Widdecombe Fair (Jeremy Rawson): Difference between revisions

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*'''CPDL #19773:''' [http://music.rawson.me.uk/catalogue/choral/freescores/widdecombefair.pdf {{extpdf}}]
*{{CPDLno|19773}} [http://music.rawson.me.uk/catalogue/choral/freescores/widdecombefair.pdf {{extpdf}}]
{{Editor|Jeremy Rawson|2009-07-14}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|8|75}}{{Copy|Personal}}
{{Editor|Jeremy Rawson|2009-07-14}}{{ScoreInfo|A4|8|75}}{{Copy|Personal}}
:'''Edition notes:'''
:'''Edition notes:'''

Revision as of 05:11, 11 December 2011

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  • CPDL #19773:  Icon_pdf_globe.gif
Editor: Jeremy Rawson (submitted 2009-07-14).   Score information: A4, 8 pages, 75 kB   Copyright: Personal
Edition notes:

General Information

Title: Widdecombe Fair
Composer: Jeremy Rawson

Number of voices: 4vv   Voicing: SATB

Genre: SecularFolksong

Language: English
Instruments: Piano
Published: 2007

Description: An arrangement of the English folk song for SATB with piano. This is one of Ten British Folk Song arrangements. See the composer page for the others.

External websites:

Original text and translations

English.png English text

Tom Pearse, Tom Pearse, lend me your grey mare
All along, out along, down along lee
For I want for to go to Widdecombe Fair

Refrain:
With Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney
Peter Davy, Dan Whiddon, Harry Hawk
Old uncle Tom Cobleigh and all,
Old uncle Tom Cobley and all.

And when shall I see again my grey mare?
All along, out along, down along lee
By Friday soon or Saturday noon
With Bill Brewer. . . .

Then Friday came and Saturday noon
All along, out along, down along lee
But Tom Pearse's mare have not trotted home.
With Bill Brewer. . . .

So Tom Pearse he got up to the top of the hill
All along, out along, down along lee
And he seed his old mare a-making her will.
With Bill Brewer. . . .

So Tom Pearse's old mare, her took sick and died
All along, out along, down along lee
And Tom, he sat down on a stone and he cried.
With Bill Brewer. . . .

But this isn't the end of this shocking affair
All along, out along, down along lee
Nor though they be dead of the horrid career.
With Bill Brewer. . . .

When the wind whistles cold on the moor of a night
All along, out along, down along lee
Tom Pearse's old mare doth appear ghastly white.
With Bill Brewer. . . .

And all the long night be heard skirling and groans
All along, down along, out along lee
From Tom Pearse's old mare and a rattling of bones.
With Bill Brewer. . . .