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Gathering Rushes in the Month of May
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Gathering Rushes in the Month of May
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Underneath Her Apron
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Steeleye Span >
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Underneath Her Apron
Three Maids A-Rushing / Gathering Rushes in the Month of May / Underneath Her Apron
[
Roud 899
/ Song Subject MAS281
; Master title: Three Maids A-Rushing
; G/D 7:1493
; Ballad Index DTundrap
; VWML RoudFS/S276420
; Bodleian
Roud 899
; GlosTrad
Roud 899
; DT UNDRAPRN
, BIRDAPRN
; Mudcat 95892
, 169020
; trad.]
Sheila Douglas: The Sang’s the Thing Come Gie’s a Sang Steve Gardham: A Yorkshire Songster Kathy Henderson with Frankie Armstrong and Sandra Kerr: My Song Is My Own Maud Karpeles: Cecil Sharp’s Collection of English Folk Songs The Crystal Spring A.L. Lloyd: Folk Song in England James Reeves: The Idiom of the People The Everlasting Circle Stephen Sedley: The Seeds of Love Mike Yates: Traveller’s Joy
Edgar Button sang Underneath Her Apron at The Eel’s Foot in Eastbridge, Suffolk, in 1938/39. This BBC recording (which, according to the Roud Index, was made by A.L. Lloyd and Francis Dillon) was included in 2000 on the Veteran CD of traditional singing and music from The Eel’s Foot, Good Order! Ladies and Gentlemen Please.
Anne Briggs sang Gathering Rushes in the Month of May in 1966 on the Topic theme album of traditional erotic songs, The Bird in the Bush. As all of her tracks from this album it was reissued on her two compilations Classic Anne Briggs (1990) and A Collection (1999). A.L. Lloyd noted on the original album:
How many country girls through the centuries have been heartened by the sweet nobility of this song? A girl bears a bastard. She is afraid of her father’s displeasure, but her pride in her baby and in the way she got it triumphs over her fear. The song has been common enough (the present set was got in Suffolk in 1937) but no collector thought it fit to publish. Queer lot. It’s one of the masterpieces of English love songs. Gathering rushes—used chiefly as floor covering and for basket-making—was traditionally thought propitious for love encounters, no doubt because rushes grew in lonely spots and offer good cover for secret sport.
Danny Brazil sang Underneath Her Apron in a recording made by Peter Shepheard in The Tabard Bar in Gloucester in May 1966 that was included in 2007 on the Brazil Family’s Musical Traditions anthology Down by the Old Riverside.
Shirley Collins sang Gathering Rushes in the Month of May unaccompanied in 1969 on her and her sister Dolly’s album Anthems in Eden, next to another song about unwanted pregnancy, Nellie the Milkmaid.
Bob Hart sang Underneath Her Apron at home in Snape, Sufffolk to Rod and Danny Stradling on 8 July 1969. This recording was included in 2007 on his Musical Traditions anthology A Broadside. He also sang it at the Crown Inn in Snape, Suffolk in the 1960s in a recording made by Neil Landham that was included in ca.2000 on the Helions Bumpstead antholog Songs From the Singing Tradition of Snape Crown (Voice of Suffolk Vol. 9). Another home recording made by Tony Engle in July 1972 was released a year later on his Topic album Songs From Suffolk on which A.L. Lloyd noted:
One of those much-sung, seldom-published songs. The old model of it is a rather elegant, somewhat mysterious song called Gathering Rushes in the Month of May (it’s on Topic 12T135). Some time in the nineteenth century, Gathering Rushes became parodied or ground down into Underneath Her Apron, and in that shape it has amused three or four generations of country folk, particularly—for some reason—in the stretch between Aldeburgh and the Norfolk Broads.
And Rod Stradling noted on the Musical Traditions anthology:
Bob’s final comment refers to the fact that I was a teacher at the time!
Robert Burns collected a set of a fine ballad in Dumfriesshire under the title The Rowin’t in Her Apron, which he sent to Johnson for his Scots Musical Museum (1787-1803), where it is song number 424, in volume 5 of the collection. The Rowin’t in Her Apron may be the forerunner of the English song Underneath Her Apron (which also, of course, turns up in Scotland; see the version called The Tamosher in Sheila Douglas’s Come Gie’s a Sang). Certainly the earliest known English broadside of Underneath Her Apron (issued by Ryle & Co c.1830) postdates The Rowin’t in Her Apron, and the English song does seem to omit much of the story that we find in Scots versions.
By far the best English version of the song, in my view, can be found in a track on Topic’s 1966 LP The Bird in the Bush (12T135), recently re-released on TSCD504 Anne Briggs—A Collection, where Anne sings Gathering Rushes in the Month of May, which came to her from A.L. Lloyd … and starts off something of a mystery. In the notes to the LP, Lloyd wrote: “The song has been common enough (the present set was got in Suffolk in 1937) but no collector thought it fit to publish. Queer lot. It’s one of the masterpieces of English love songs.”
One might applaud this sentiment—except that the following year, 1967, he printed the text and tune, untitled, in his Folk Song in England on p.185 [in my copy of the book it’s on p.181 and without a footnote -rz], and stated that he himself had collected it in Woodbridge in 1937 (the footnote reads: “A.L.L. [Suffolk 1937] MS”). So in claiming to be its collector some 30 years earlier, he is placing himself amongst the ‘queer lot’ who though it unfit for publication! If he believed it to be “one of the masterpieces of English love songs”, then why didn’t he publish it in The Singing Englishman in 1944, or in The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs in 1959? Queer is right!
For CD versions of Underneath Her Apron, see Good Order (Veteran VT140CD), where it is sung by Edgar Button [and which was recorded by Lloyd in 1938/39! -rz], and The Broom Blooms Bonny (MTCD313), where Joe Rae sings Oor Young Lady, a more historically-based Scots version.
Percy Ling sang Pretty Little Mary in The Ship Inn, Blaxhall in 1972. This was included in 2007 on the Musical Traditions anthology of songs recorded by Keith Summers in Suffolk, A Story to Tell. Percy Ling also sang Underneath Your Apron in another recording made by Keith Summers in 1974-5 that was published in 1977 on the Ling Family’s Topic album Singing Traditions of a Suffolk Family. Rod Stradling’s notes are basically the same as on Bob Hart’s MT anthology.
Swan Arcade sang this song as Little Maiden in 1976 on their LP Matchless.
The Clutha sang My Apron on their 1977 Topic album The Bonnie Mill Dams. An October 1981 live recording from Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, was released in 2019 on their album Live From Harvard. Don Martin noted on the original album:
The melody of this song, with one verse and chorus, was collected by Alan Reid, secretary of the Rymour Club, from Bruce Home of Edinburgh in November 1906. Mr. Home had first learned it in the capital city during the 1840s. The song was also found by George Ritchie Kinloch, who printed eight verses in his Ballad Book of 1827 [pp. 71-72]. It would appear that the familiar ‘apron’ motif, denoting pregnancy, has had a long history of application throughout the English speaking world. It even makes an appearance in the American blues song, Careless Love ‘apron high, apron low’.
The Battlefield Band sang The Tamosher in 1978 on their Topic album At the Front. This track was also included in 1979 on the German label Anvil’s compilation of “songs from England, Ireland and Scotland” from Topic albums, Folk Vol. 1. They noted:
Alan [Reid] learnt this song from Tocher magazine, a publication of selections from the archive of The School of Scottish Studies, Edinburgh University. It was collected from Bessie Whyte, who is of travelling stock, but now lives in Montrose [VWML RoudFS/S276420] . We hope she doesn’t mind the slight changes we have made in our arrangement of the song. Bessie says that the “Tamosher is the thing that makes weans…”
John Kirkpatrick sang Underneath Her Apron in 1980 on the Umps and Dumps’ Topic album The Moon’s in a Fit. This track was also included in 1994 in his Topic anthology A Short History of John Kirkpatrick. He recorded the song again in 1998 for his CD One Man & His Box on which he noted:
Learned originally from the singing of Suffolk singer Percy Ling on the Topic album The Ling Family, released in 1977. Although any given melody in English folk music tends to be firmly based on the notes of one particular scale, and therefore demands a reasonably modest landscape of chords behind it, occasionally I hear the voices of accordion demons in my head which say “they’re all there—so use them”. That seems to have happened here.
Jean Redpath sang A Wee Bird Cam tae My Apron in 1986 on her Philo album Lowlands. She noted:
This text comes from Kinloch’s Ballad Book (1827), the tune [and chorus] I learned from the singing of Gordeanna McCulloch. The song was collected in 1906 from a Mr Bruce Home of Edinburgh (who had learned it there in the 1840s) by Alan Reid, secretary of the Rymour Club.
Peta Webb sang Underneath Her Apron in a 1989 recording by John Howson on her 2003 Musical Traditions anthology The Magpie’s Nest.
Poachers Pocket sang Three Pretty Maids in 1994 on their WildGoose album Fair Game. They noted:
A cautionary tale about work experience.
Maddy Prior sang Underneath Her Apron in 1996 on Steeleye Span’s album Time. The latter album’s sleeve notes commented:
A fifteen year old girl woke her mother at 4 o’clock in the morning with the words “I think I’m going to have a baby, now.” This happened to my personal knowledge within the last ten years. And she shared her room with her sister. She just used a baggy sweater rather than an apron to hide her predicament.
Charlotte Greig sang Gathering Rushes on her 1998 album Night Visiting Songs.
Joe Rae sang Oor Young Lady in 2001 on his Musical Traditions album of ballads, songs and stories from Ayrshire, The Broom Blooms Bonny. Rod Stradling noted in the accompanying booklet:
Robert Burns collected a set of this fine ballad in Dumfriesshire, under the title The Rowin’t in her Apron, which he sent to Johnson for his Scots Musical Museum (1787-1803), where it is song number 424, in volume 5 of the collection. Interestingly, Joe’s penultimate verse is missing from the Burns’ version. Presumably Burns, or his informant, did not wish to upset the Maxwells, who would then have been an extremely powerful family.
The Rowin’t in her Apron may be the forerunner of the English song Underneath Her Apron (which also, of course, turns up in Scotland. See the version called The Tamosher in Sheila Douglas’s Come Gie’s a Sang). Certainly the earliest known English broadside of Underneath Her Apron (issued by Ryle & Co. c.1830) postdates The Rowin ’t in her Apron, and the English song does seem to omit much of the story that we find in Joe’s version. Joe, who learnt the song from his grandfather, feels that Oor Young Lady possibly comes from Nithsdale —he sometimes calls it The Nithsdale Ballad—because the Maxwell Family originate from that part of Scotland. His tune, by the way, is a slowed-down version of one that has been used for other Scottish ballads, including Geordie (Child 209).
In fact, it seems certain that the ballad is from Nithsdale. When William, the third Lord Herries of Terregles, died in 1543 he was without sons. (The Herries had owned land in Nithsdale since the days of the Scottish King David the 2nd—who reigned from 1329 to 1371). William’s eldest daughter Agnes Herries married Sir John Maxwell of Caerlaverock who, on William’s death, assumed the additional title of Lord of Terregles. It would therefore seem likly that a subsequent Lord Maxwell could have had a son known as Terregles. And this, of course, begs the question, could our present song be based on an actual event? According to James A. Mackay—in Robert Burns, The Complete Poetical Works (1997 edition)—the ballad deals, “with the aftermath of the 1715 Rebellion” while “Young Terreagles (sic) was John, Lord Maxwell who died in 1776”. Unfortuately, the John Maxwell who was alive in 1715, died four years later in 1719. There were subsequent John Maxwells in the 18th century, but none, to my knowledge, who died in 1776. So, again, we must ask the question, is the song based on an actual event?
Alison McMorland, Annie Grace and Gordeanna McCulloch sang A Wee Bird Cam tae My Apron at Celtic Connections at the Glasgow Royal Concert Hall in January 2001. This recording was included the following year on Greentrax’s Celtic Connections anthology Scots Women.
Jon Boden sang Gathering Rushes in the Month of May as the 8 May 2011 entry of his project A Folk Song a Day. He noted in his blog:
From Anne Briggs, whose version is so sublime nobody else has bothered trying to record it. A great song to sing. On the odd occasion when I feel the need to do a warm up (I don’t normally hold with ’em really) I generally end up singing this through as an ornaments exercise apart from anything else.
Andy Turner learned Underneath Your Apron from Percy Ling’s recording and sang it as the 30 October 2011 entry of his project A Folk Song a Week.
Kirsty Potts sang A Wee Bird Cam tae My Apron on her 2015 album The Seeds of Life. She noted:
Learnt from Alison [McMorland, Kirsty’s mother] in the distant past. I have enjoyed the infectious dance music from Democratic Republic of Congo since the early 90s including Kanda Bongo Man and Yondo Syster. I wanted to put Africa and Scotland together in one song and it features Bhundu Boy, Rise Kagona from Zimbabwe but who now lives in Leith!
The Furrow Collective sang The Tamosher in 2017 as the title track of their digital download EP The Tamosher. They noted on their website:
We learnt The Tamosher [VWML RoudFS/S192027] from the singing of the late Perthshire Traveller singer Betsy Whyte, who was also well-known as the author of the autobiographical book The Yellow on the Broom. It’s a song about concealed pregnancy and childbirth, a relatively common theme in both Scottish and English tradition with other examples including songs such as A Wee Bird Cam Tae My Apron and Gathering Rushes. One theory about the origin of the term ‘tamosher’ suggests that it might be a corruption of “stomacher”, referring to a triangular panel women wore over the chest ending in a stiff point over the stomach. Another theory suggests that it may be related to a Gaelic term for reproach, disgrace or offence—but Betsy herself believed that ‘tamosher’ is an old Scots word for ‘the thing that makes a wean’.
Rosie Hodgson sang Gathering Rushes in the Month of May in 2021 on her download EP Common or Garden. She noted:
I first heard, and fell in love with, a relative of this song sung by The Battlefield Band when I was small. This version I learned from the singing of Anne Briggs and I love the defiance of this young girl who seems to refuse to be shamed by the taunting of her father. I’m pleased to add my version to the vast family of songs documenting the “unlikely-things-Sally-had-underneath-her-apron”…
Lyrics
Edgar Button sings Underneath Her Apron
(Philip Lumpkin) Order please for Underneath the Apron
Now it was little Sarah with her pail and broom,
She had to loose her apron strings to give her belly room.
When in came her master, and unto her did say,
“O what is that you have got beneath your apron?”
“It’s nothing, Sir, it’s nothing sir, O nothing Sir”, said she.
“It’s only a muslin gown my mother gave to me.
I had nowhere to put it, ’twas too tight to be worn
So I tucked it snugly underneath me apron.”
After some months, a baby boy was born.
Born without a father, without a home at all.
When in came her master, and unto her did say,
“Did you get that from underneath your apron.”
“Was it by a tinker, was it by a clown,
Was it by a soldier-boy who fights for England’s crown?”
“No sir, it was by a sailor, who ploughs the angry sea,
Who was it who popped it underneath me apron.”
“Now was it in the parlour, was it in the hall,
Was it in the larder, or in the house at all?”
“No sir it was in the garden, up against the wall,
When Jack he popped it underneath me apron.”
Now all you pretty girls, Take this tip from me,
Never trust a sailor-boy one inch above your knee,
If you do, the sailor he’ll haul your colours down,
And he’ll drop his anchor underneath your apron.
Anne Briggs sings Gathering Rushes in the Month of May
A fine young girl all in the month of May,
She was gathering rushes just at the break of day.
But before she’s come home she’s born a little son,
And she’s rolled him underneath her apron.
Well, she cried at the threshold as she coming at the door,
And she folded in her apron the little babe she bore.
Said her father, “Where’ve you been, my little daughter Jane,
And what’s that you’ve got underneath your apron?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she.
“It’s only my new gown and that’s too long for me.
And I was afraid it would draggle in the dew,
So I rolled it underneath my apron.”
But in the dead of the night, when all were fast asleep,
This pretty little baby, O it began to weep.
Said her father, “What’s that bird a-crying out so clear
In the bedroom among the pretty maidens?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she,
“It’s just a little bird that fluttered to my knee,
And I’ll build for it a nest, and I’ll warm it on my breast
So it won’t wake early in the May morning.”
But in the third part of the night, when all were fast asleep,
This pretty little baby again began to weep.
Said her father, “What’s that baby a-crying out so clear
In the bedroom among the pretty maidens?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she,
“It’s just a little baby that someone gave to me.
Let it lie, let it sleep this night along o’ me
And I tell to you its daddy in the May morning.”
“Well, was it by a black man or was it by a brown,
Or was it by a ploughing lad a-ploughing up and down,
That gave to you the stranger you wear with your new gown,
That you rolled up underneath your apron?”
“No, it wasn’t by a black man and it wasn’t by a brown,
I got it from a ploughing lad that ploughs the watery main.
He gave to me the stranger I wear with my new gown
That I’ve rolled up underneath my apron.”
“Well, was it in the kitchen got or was it in the hall?
Or was it in the cow-shed or was it in the stall?
I wish I had a firebrand to burn the building down
Where you met with him on a May morning.”
“No, it wasn’t in the kitchen got, it wasn’t in the hall,
And neither in the cow-shed and neither in the stall.
It was down by yonder spring where the small birds they sing
That I met with him on a May morning.”
Shirley Collins sings Gathering Rushes in the Month of May
It’s of three young maidens a-rushing they went,
And a-gathering of rushes it was their intent;
But before one’s come home she’s born a little son,
And she’s rolled it underneath her apron.
So it’s home came young Sally with her eyes all full of tears,
“What is it that ails you, my little daughter dear?
And what is it that ails my pretty little Sal?
And what have you got underneath your apron?”
O then, “Father, O father, O father dear,” said she,
“It is but my new gown that’s too long for me,
And I was afraid it would draggle in the dew,
So I rolled it underneath my apron.”
But it’s in the first part of the night, when all were fast asleep,
The pretty little baby began for to weep.
Said her father, “What’s that a-crying out so shrill
In the room all among the pretty maidens?”
Well then, “Father, O father, O father dear,” said she,
“It is but a little baby someone gave to me.
Let it lie, let it lie this night along of me
And I tell to you its daddy in the morning.”
“Well then, was it by a black man got, or was it by a brown,
Or was it by a ploughing lad a-ploughing up and down,
For if I had a sword I would run the villain through,
And leave him to die in the morning.”
“Well, it wasn’t by a black man got, it wasn’t by a brown,
But it was by a sailor lad that came from London town,
And he left me a posy to wear with my new gown
And I met him early in the May morning.”
“Well then, was it in the kitchen got or was it in the hall?
Or was it in the stable or was it in the stall?
For if I had a brand I would burn the building down
Where you met with your love on a May morning.”
“Well, it wasn’t in the kitchen, it wasn’t in the hall,
It wasn’t in the stable, it wasn’t in the stall.
It was down by yonder spring where the small birds they do sing
That I met with my love on a May morning.”
Bob Hart sings Underneath Her Apron
Pretty little Sarah, sweeping up the room,
Had to loose her apron strings to make a bit o‘ room.
Her master, he came to her and unto her did say,
“What is that you have got underneath your apron?”
“O nothing, Sir, O nothing, nothing Sir”, cried she.
“Nothing but a muslin gown me mother gave to me.
I‘d nowhere to put it, to keep it nice and clean,
So I tucked it snugly underneath me apron.”
A few months after, a baby boy was born.
Born without a father, without a home at all.
Her master, he came to her and unto her did say
“I see now what you had underneath your apron.”
“Was it by a tinker, was it by a clown,
Was it by a soldier-lad who fights for England‘s crown?”
“No, it was by a sailor, who ride the angry sea,
And he tucked it snugly underneath me apron.”
“Was it in the kitchen, was it in the hall,
Was it in the parlour, or in the house at all?”
“No it was in the garden, up against the wall,
Where he tucked it snugly underneath me apron.”
Now all you single ladies, wherever you may be,
Never trust a sailor-lad an inch above your knee,
If you do, you‘ll rue the day, he‘ll leave you in the lurch,
After he have tucked it underneath your apron.
(spoken) Now don‘t start humming that in class!
Percy Ling sings Pretty Little Mary
Percy Ling: “Are you going to do a bit of singing?”
Cyril Poacner: “I asked you to sing. It was my call.”
Crowd: “Pretty Little Mary.” “It’s the singer’s call.”
WR: “Order Please!”
Pretty little Mary was sweeping up the room
She untied her apron strings to get a bit of room.
In come the master and undo her did say:
“What is that you’ve got underneath your apron?”
“O master, O master, O master” cried she,
“It’s only a muslin gown my mother gave to me,
I had nowhere to keep it, to keep it nice and warm
So I tucked it snugly underneath my apron.”
A few months later a baby boy was born
Born without a father, without a home at all.
In come the master and undo her did say:
“Now I see what you had underneath your apron?”
“Was it by a tinker or was it by a clown,
Or was it by a soldier-boy who fought for England’s crown?”
“No it was by a sailor who rowed the angry sea.
And he tucked it snugly underneath my apron.”
“Oh, was it in the kitchen, or was it in the hall?
Was it in the parlour or in the house at all?”
“No it was in the garden, up against the wall
That he tucked it snugly underneath my apron.”
“Now come all you young women, this warning by me take
And never trust a sailor lad an inch above your knee.
For if you do you’ll rue the day; he’d leave you in the lurch
After he had tucked it underneath your apron.”
Jean Redpath sings A Wee Bird Cam tae My Apron
It fell on a morning, a morning in May
My faither’s cows they a’ went astray
I loutit me down and the heather was gay
A burr stack tae my apron
Chorus:
Wi’ a rye doo a dum, wi’ a rye doo a day
Rye doo a dum, and a rye doo a day
Rye doo a dum, and a rye doo a day
A wee bird cam’ tae my apron
O aince my apron it was wide
But noo my knees it scarce can hide
And O the grief that I’ve tae bide
When I look tae my apron
O aince my apron it was new
But noo it’s gotten another hue
Noo it’s gotten another hue
There’s a braw lad below my apron
I saw my faither on the stair
Cambing doon his yellow hair
Says, “What is that ye’ve got in there
Sae weel rowed aneath yer apron?”
It’s neither vagabond nor loon
He’s the best stay-maker in the toon
And he’s made me a stomacher to bear up my goon
And I rowed it beneath my apron
I saw my mother on the stair
Cambing doon her yellow hair
Says, “What is that ye’ve got in there
Sae weel rowed aneath yer apron?”
O it is my mantle and my shirt
I had nae will tae daidle it
I had nae will tae daidle it
And I rowed it beneath my apron
As I was going doon the street
My siller slippers on my feet
O aye my freends I’d ill-well tae meet
And my braw lad rowed aneath my apron.
Maddy Prior sings Underneath Her Apron
A pretty young girl all in the month of May,
A-gathering rushes just at the break of day
And before she’s come home she has born a little son,
And she’s rolled him underneath her apron.
All in the first part of the night, when all were fast asleep,
This pretty little baby, O it began to weep.
“O what’s that little babe that’s a-crying out so clear
In the bedroom among the pretty maidens?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she.
“It’s a little bird that my sister gave to me
And I’ll build for it a nest, and I’ll warm it on my breast
So that it won’t wake you early in the May morning.”
All in the last part of the night, when they were fast asleep,
This pretty little baby, again, began to weep.
“O what’s that little babe that’s crying out so clear
In the bedroom among the pretty maidens?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she.
“It’s just a little baby that someone gave to me
Let it lie, let it sleep this night along o’ me
And I tell to you its daddy in the May morning.”
“Oh, was it by a black man or was it by a brown,
Or was it by a ploughing boy that’s ploughing up and down,
That gave to you the stranger you wear with your new gown,
That you’ve rolled up underneath your apron?”
“It wasn’t by a black man and it wasn’t by a brown
But it was by a sailor lad that ploughs the watery main
And ’t was him gave me the stranger that I wear with my new gown
That I’ve rolled up underneath my apron.”
“Oh, was it in the kitchen got or was it in the hall?
Or was it in the cow-shed or up against the wall?
I wish I had a firebrand to burn the building down
Where you met with him on a May morning.”
“It wasn’t in the kitchen got, it wasn’t in the hall.
It wasn’t in the cow-shed nor up against the wall?
It was down by yonder spring where them pretty birds do sing
That I met with him on a May morning.”
Joe Rae sings Oor Young Lady
Oor young lady’s a-huntin gane,
Hawk or hound she hasna tane.
She’s borne her young son or she’s come hame
An she’s rowed him in her apron.
Her apron was o’ the Hollands fine,
Rowed aroon wi the laces nine.
She was feart her babe wad tine,
So she’s rowed him in her apron.
Her apron was o’ the Hollands sma,
Rowed aroon wi the laces aa.
She was feart her babe wad faa,
So she’s rowed him in her apron.
Her faither says within the haa,
Among the lords and nobles aa,
“I thocht I heard a bairnie caa
In oor young lady’s chamber.”
“O faither dear it is a bairn,
I trust that ye’ll dae it nae hairm,
For the laddie I loed and he loed me again,
For the rowin it in my apron.”
“O is he a lord or is he a loon,
This man wha brocht thy fair body doon?
I wadna hae’t for aa in this toun,
The rowin it in thy apron.”
“O young Terregles is nae loon,
He is the toss o’ Edinbra toon.
Aye and he’ll buy me a braw new goun,
For the rowin it in my apron.”
It’s oot and spak Lord Maxwell then,
He was the chief o’ aa his kin.
“Wi my son Terregles ye shall be wad,
For the rowin it in thy apron.”
“For it’s I hae barns and I hae booers,
I hae castles and I hae toors.
And aa that is mine it shall be thine,
For the rowin it in thy apron.”
The Furrow Collective sing The Tamosher
The were twa bonnie lassies and they were dressed in blue,
And they went out some rushes for tae pu’.
And yin o’ them caught a wee thing before she did return
And she bundled it and rolled it in her apron.
Well, the first yin that she met was her faither on the stair,
“O daughter, dear daughter, it’s what have you got there?
Who gave to you the tamosher to wear the starched gown
And you bundled it and rolled it in your apron?
“O was it to the baker, or was it to the clown,
Or was it to the bonnie boy who sails the world around?
Who gave to you the tamosher to wear the starched gown
And you bundled it and rolled it in your apron?”
“Well, it wasn’t to the baker, it wasn’t to the clown,
But it was to the bonnie boy who sails the world around.
He gave to me the tamosher to wear the starched gown
And I bundled it and rolled it in my apron.”
Well, here comes little Molly, she comes to the town
With her ricky-rocky slippers in her newly starched gown.
Her ricky-rocky slippers in her newly starched gown,
And she bundled it and rolled it in her apron.
Rosie Hodgson sings Gathering Rushes in the Month of May
A fine young girl all in the month of May,
She was gathering rushes just at the break of day.
But before she’s come home she’s born a little son,
She’s bundled him up underneath her apron.
She hollered at the threshold as she’s come in at the door,
She’s bundled in her apron that little babe she bore.
Says her father, “Where’ve you been, my little daughter Jane,
And what’s that you’ve got underneath your apron?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she.
“It’s only my new gown and that’s too long for me.
And I was afraid it would draggle in the dew,
So I rolled it up all underneath my apron.”
But in the first part of the night, when all were fast asleep,
This pretty little baby, O it began to weep.
Says her father, “What’s that bird a-crying out so clear
In the bedrooms all among the pretty maidens?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she,
“It’s just a little small bird that fluttered to my knee,
And I’ll build for it a nest, and I’ll warm it on my breast
So it won’t wake you so early in the May morning.”
But in the last part of the night, when all were fast asleep,
This pretty little baby again began to weep.
Says her father, “What’s that baby a-crying out so clear
In the bedrooms all among the pretty maidens?”
“O father, dear father, it’s nothing then,” said she,
“It’s just a little baby that someone gave to me.
Let it sleep, let it lie this night along o’ me
So it won’t wake you so early in the May morning.”
“Well, was it by a black man or was it by a brown,
Or was it by a ploughing lad a-ploughing up and down,
Who gave to you that stranger you wear with your new gown,
That woke us all so early in the May morning?”
“It wasn’t by a black man nor was it by a brown,
O it was by a ploughing lad a-ploughing up and down.
He gave to me the stranger I wear with my new gown
That woke you all so early in the May morning.”
“Oh, was it in the kitchen got or was it in the hall?
Or was it in the cow-shed all up against the wall?
I wish I had a firebrand to burn the building down
Where you met with him on a May morning.”
“It wasn’t in the kitchen got, it wasn’t in the hall,
Nor neither in a cow-shed, nor neither in the stall.
It was down by yonder stream where the small birds they sing
Where I met my lover early in the May morning.”