To think what England once had been, When such poor folk, by right of birth, Claimed an inalienable share And tenure of their native earth; When even the least enjoyed the yield Of labour in the common field, And kept his pig, and grazed his cow, And gathered firewood on the waste To warm his bones in Winter. Now The hirelings of a heartless caste, Owners of factories and mills, Puffed with undigested pride, And flushed by the tax-eater’s greed, Have stolen half the countryside With their accursed Enclosure Bills; While humble folk who’ve earned the meed Of painful husbandry, despoiled Of their scant share of paradise, See high park-walls and paling rise About the land where once they toiled. Now the mantrap’s iron teeth Lurk in the woods and on the heath, And never a rabbit or a hare Sweetens the labourer’s skimpy fare- Though men with hunger-hollowed eyes Hear the grai-fed pheasant’s cries Taunting their stomachs as they gaze Disheartened on the dwindling blaze That lights their cheerless chimney-side, And shiver.
Francis Brett Young (29 June 1884 – 28 March 1954) was an English novelist, poet, playwright, composer, doctor and soldier – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francis_Brett_Young – he wrote The Island in 1944.
I was told about Hamish Henderson a few weeks ago and just spent a delightful hour making friends with his best known song ‘Freedom Come All Ye’.
There have been a few translations into English but I didn’t really like any of them so I’ve written my own, building on unattributed previous efforts. It’s such a shame that ‘down’ and ‘bloom’, and ‘more’ and ‘bare’ don’t rhyme in my southern English accent!
Hamish Henderson – Freedom Come All Ye
Original scots:
Roch the wind in the clear day’s dawin Blaws the cloods heilster-gowdie owre the bay But there’s mair nor a roch wind blawin Thro the Great Glen o the warld the day
It’s a thocht that wad gar oor rottans Aa thae rogues that gang gallus fresh an gay Tak the road an seek ither loanins Wi thair ill-ploys tae sport an play
Nae mair will our bonnie callants Merch tae war when oor braggarts crousely craw Nor wee weans frae pitheid an clachan Mourn the ships sailin doun the Broomielaw
Broken faimlies in lands we’ve hairriet Will curse ‘Scotlan the Brave’ nae mair, nae mair Black an white ane-til-ither mairriet Mak the vile barracks o thair maisters bare
Sae come aa ye at hame wi freedom Never heed whit the houdies croak for Doom In yer hoos aa the bairns o Adam Will find breid, barley-bree an paintit rooms
When Maclean meets wi’s friens in Springburn Aa thae roses an geans will turn tae blume An the black lad frae yont Nyanga Dings the fell gallows o the burghers doun.
Robin’s English translation/adaptation*
Rough the wind in the clear day’s dawning Blows the clouds topsy-turvy about the bay, But there’s more than a rough wind blowing Through the great glen of the world today.
It’s a thought that will make our tyrants (Rogues who fancy themselves so fine and gay) Take the road, and seek other pastures For their ill ploys to sport and play
No more will our bonnie callants March to war when our braggarts crudely caw, Nor wee ones from pit-head and hamlet Mourn the ships sailin’ down the Broomielaw.
Broken families in lands we’ve harried, Will curse ‘Scotland the Brave’ no more, no more; Black and white, hand in hand together, Will drive the tyrants from each and every shore
So come all ye at home with freedom, Never heed the cronies croak for doom. In your house all the bairns of Adam Will find bread, barley-bree and painted rooms.
When MacLean meets with friends in Springburn Sweet the flowers will bloom that day for thee And a black boy from old Nyanga Will break his chains and know true liberty
* There are a few places where I have chosen to use different but congruent imagery that will speak more immediately to modern English speaking listeners and singers whilst also keeping the overall shape, meaning and rhyming structure intact.
As a result this is considered an adaptation as much as a translation, coming from a place of really wanting to find an authentic way to sing this song I love in my own voice.
I have left in a few Scots words like ‘bonnie callants’ as the surrounding lyrics make it easy for the singer or listener to understand the meaning.
The Green Backyard in Peterborough have just signed a 12 year lease, winning an amazing victory saving land from some dubious business people and a council which has some amazing people in it …and others with more questionable motives. Read about it in the Peterborough Telegraph:
In twenty zero eight, two enterprising souls
Set to work to realise their very worthy goals
They met allies and met baddies, now listen as i tell
A tale of Peterborough’s finest and some pond scum straight from hell
There’s pair of Antonelli’s, both grafters through and through
Give them tools and wellies… there is nothing they can’t do
I sure want them on my team when we build the barricades
As we fight the fight for all that’s right with rascals and comrades
Three cheers for the green backyard, ’tis a glorious hour for people power
On two acres of good land that never knew concrete
They set to work creating a paradise complete with
Veg and flowers and people, and ponds and compost loos
But a few in power (with faces sour) had some other views
In twenty and eleven, the council battle began
Machen and Kneally, they worked an evil plan
And we mustn’t forgot Cereste, they don’t get more corrupt
Someone should him soon arrestie, cos he’s such an evil fuck ….refrain
But in our growers’ corner we’ve Gillian Beasly who was
A very early ally and the council chief exec too!
And props to Jay and Allan, more people joined the team
Now the scene is set, the players met, all captured in one tune
We mustn’t forget ‘Metal’, who invite arty sorts
And let them loose around here, to sow creative thoughts
Like ‘if this were to be lost’ and ‘this land is our land’
And ‘people before profit when when we all together stand’ ….refrain
‘For sale’ the sign was raised, this was a big mistake
Gave our growers marching orders, even set a date
But the town and country planning act, a couple of VIPs
Plus a tonne of people power brought the blighters to their knees
so to conclude my story, there’s still much work to do
but this is quite a victory, so credit where its due
and i hope our children’s children can be nurtured by this land
and people far from peterborah will know of this fine stand ….refrain
Roy Palmer has spent much of the last thirty years hunting for ballads and using them to weave together a people’s history of England. He has mastered the art of this in a number of excellent books of which this is a great starting point.
This book is utterly superb and should be bought without hesitation. Each song has a melody and words, along with a page or two giving its historical context.
A Ballad History of England
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