She's Like the Swallow

Just over a week ago we uploaded this track to Soundcloud. You can listen and download it there, or here:

We performed this Newfoundland folksong at St John on Bethnal Green in July as part of a concert. It was first collected in 1930 by the British folksong collector Maud Karpeles, who made the claim, now disproven, that since the tune was so beautiful, it must have originated in Britain. There are a few different versions of the lyrics, but these are the ones we used:

She's like the swallow that flies so high,
She's like the river that never runs dry,
She's like the sun that shines on the lee shore
I love my love, but love is no more.


T'was down in the meadow this fair maid went
A-plucking the rose just as she went,
The more she plucked and the more she pulled
Until she'd gathered her apron full.

She climbed on yonder hill above
To give the roses unto her love
She gave him one, she gave him three
She gave him her heart for company.


How foolish, foolish you must be,
To think I loves no one but thee.
The world's not made for one alone,
I takes delight in everyone.

It's of those roses she made a bed,
A stony pillow unto her head,
Now this fair maid, no word did she say,
Until her very dying day.

There is a man on yonder hill
He's living there and living still
He's got a heart as hard as stone,
He's got two hearts instead of one.


She's like the
swallow that flies so high,
She's like the river that never runs dry,
She's like the sun that shines on the lee shore
I love my love, but love is no more.

1 comment:

  1. The haunting melody reminds me of
    "But a single girl I never shall be
    Till apples grow on an orange tree."

    ReplyDelete