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Survey of Traditional Music, Vol. 1: From British Tradition

by Field Recorders' Collective

I’ll tell you about a brisk young farmer Who was handsome and renowned. He courted a fair, lovely maiden, And her name was Molly Brown. When his parents came to know this They were angry and did say, “We’ll send him across the widest ocean. There he never will see her face.” He sailed the ocean over and over, Then came back to his native side. Said, “If Molly is alive, and I can find her, Oh, I’ll make her my lawful bride.” It was early in the morning, And he was walking down the street, Thinking of his Molly darling, When his true love he chanced to meet. “It’s good morning, good morning, my pretty fair maiden. Good morning, and could you ever fancy me?” “No, my fancy’s on a brisk young farmer Who’s gone sailing on the sea.” “Describe him to me, my pretty fair maiden Will you describe him unto me? Perhaps I had a chance to see him; I have lately crossed the sea.” “Oh, he’s proper and he’s very handsome. He’s all so slim and tall. His hair is dark and very curly. His pretty blue eyes the best of all.” “I guess I saw him, and I know him Would his name be William Hall? I saw a cannonball shot through him, And in death I saw him fall.” Such screams, such screams from the pretty fair maiden, Crying, “Alas, and what shall I do? We were parted, both broken hearted. Now my heart will break in two.” “Cheer up, cheer up, my pretty fair maiden. Cheer up, cheer up, for I am he. Now to convince you of my story, Here’s the ring you once gave me.” They joined their loving hands together. To the church they straight did go. This young couple were lawfully married, Whether the parents were willing or no.
The puncher being cold, he went up to bed. He asked for a candle to light his way to bed. She showed up to bed like a good girl should. He said, “Young lady, will you go to bed, too?” Chorus: It’s home to your home, wherever you may be. It’s home to your home to your own country, Where the oak and the ash and the buttonwillow tree, The lark sings gaily in his own country. Early in the morning the puncher arose. He filled her apron with silver and gold. “With silver in your pockets, gold in your purse, Should you get into trouble, you can hire you a nurse.” “Oh, if it’s a girl, pat her curly head. Remember the night when with me you went to bed. Oh, if it’s a girl, bounce her on your knee, Tell her of her daddy who is far across the sea. “If it’s a boy, call him Willie Lee, And when he’s twenty-one you can send him o’er to me, With his boots and his chaps, his Gallop saddle new, I’ll make him punch cows like his daddy used to do.”
Well, the first come down was dressed in red. The next come down in green. Next come down Lord Daniel’s wife, Fair as any queen, queen, Fair as any queen. “May I go home with you little love? Home with you tonight?” “I can tell by the rings you wear, You are Lord Daniel’s wife, wife, You are Lord Daniel’s wife.” The little foot-path was a standing by, And he heard every word was said. “If I don’t die ‘fore the break of day, Lord Daniel’ll hear of that, that, Lord Daniel’ll hear of that.” Well, he had about sixteen miles to go, Eight of them he run Run, ‘Til he came to the broken down bridge, Fell to his breast and he swum, swum, Fell to his breast and he swum, swum, Rattled at the door and she rung. Rattled at the door and it rung, rung, Rattled at the door and it rung. “What is the matter, my little foot-path? What is the matter now?” “Another man’s in the bed with your wife, And both their hearts is one, one, Both their hearts is one.” Well, he called his army to his side, Told them for to go, They threw them bugles to their mouth, They began to blow, blow, They began to blow. “Get up, get up my old true love, Better get up and go. Lord Daniel’s coming home this night; I can hear them bugles blow, blow, Hear them bugles blow.” They begin to hugging and a kissing. They both fell off to sleep. When they awoke, their hearts was broke; Lord Daniel was at their feet, feet, Lord Daniel was at their feet. “Get up, get up, little Mattie Groves. Fight me for your life.” “How can I fight you for my life? You two brand new swords, Me not much as a pocket knife, knife, Not much as a pocket knife.” “Oh, yes, I have two brand new swords, The best I’ll give to thee.” And the very first lick Lord Daniel took, Lowered Mattie Groves to his knee. And the very first lick little Mattie Groves took, He destroyed Lord Daniel’s soul, soul, He destroyed Lord Daniel’s soul.
As I was out walking down by the seashore, The waves they were playing, the wind it did roar. There I sat amusing my self in the grass, And who did I spy but a young Indian lass. She came and set by me, and taking my hand, She said, “You’re a stranger, and in a strange land, But if you will follow and come go with me, I’ll teach you the language of the little Mohee.” The sun was a sinking far over the sea As I wandered along with my little Mohee. Together we wandered, together we roamed, ‘Til we came to the cottage that she called her home. She asked me to marry and offered her hand Saying, “Father’s a chieftain, and rules this fair land. My father’s a chieftain, you ruler can be. I’m his only daughter, my name is Mohee.” “Oh, no, my dear maiden, that never can be; I have a dear sweetheart in my own country. I’m going to leave you, so farewell, my dear. My ship sails are spreading, and home I will steer.” The last time I saw her, she knelt on the sand, And as my boat passed her, she waved me her hand. “When you get over, with the girl that you love, Just remember your Mohee in the coconut grove.” And when I had landed, with my girl on the shore, Both friends and relations gathered round me once more. I gazed all around me, not one did I see That could ever compare with my little Mohee. And the girl I had trusted proved untrue to me, So I said “I’ll turn backward and cross the blue sea.” I took my course backward, away I did flee, To spend all my days with my little Mohee.
[Oh Betsy is a lady fair, Just lately come from weekly share. There being a merchant in the town, Beautiful Betsy to him was bound. All on one Sunday evening as I've heard tell,] I said to Betsy, “I love you well. I love you dearer than my own life, And I’ll take you to be my wife.” His mother lying in the next room, A hearing what her son resumed. She was resolved within her mind To disappoint her son’s desire. Early next morning when she arose, She said, to Betsy, “Put on your clothes. Along with me you now must go, To wait on me one day or so.” And Betsy put on her rich array. She looked like a lady forced away. The boat was waiting at the town. Poor Betsy strode for Jimmie Brown. And when she was returning home And meeting of her own dear son, “Oh, mother, oh mother, you’re welcome home, But where’s poor Betsy, for her I mourn?” “Oh son, oh son, I played a scheme That all your love’s for poor Betsy. Love her no more, ‘tis all in vain; Poor Betsy sails far o’er the main.” From this her son was taken sad. No joys on earth could make him glad. From this, her son was heard to sigh, “Oh, Betsy dear, for thee I’ll die.” Then when she saw her son was dead, She rung her hands, she tore her hair, Saying, “If my son could live again, I’d send for Betsy o’er the main.”
Lord Lovel’s standing by his white castle gate, A-combing his milk white steed. Along came Lady Nancy Bell, A-wishing her lover good speed. (2) “When will you be back, Lord Lovel?” she said, “When will you be back?” said she. “In a year or two, or three at least, I’ll return to my Lady Nancy.“ (2) Well, he hadn’t been gone a year or two, Or maybe it was not three, ‘Til loving thoughts came in his mind, “Lady Nancy I’ll go see.” (2) Well, he rode and he rode on his milk white steed, ‘Til he came into London’s town, And there he heard the prince’s bell And the people all mourning around. (2) “Oh, what is the matter,” Lord Lovel, he said “Oh, what is the matter?” said he.“ Well, the Lord Lady’s dead,” a woman replied, “And some calls her Lady Nancy.” (2) Well, he ordered her grave to be opened wide, Her shroud unfolded down, And there he kissed her clay cold cheeks, ‘Til the tears came streaming down. (2)
There was an old preacher, he thought himself bold. He preached for the money but not for your soul. He’d ride the circuit twelve times every year, If you lost your soul, he didn’t much care, And it’s hard times. There was an old jeweler had watches to sell. He said they’d keep time all the time very well. The very first time your head’s turned away, They gain forty minutes the very next day, And it’s hard times. There was an old blacksmith, you better take care, He said he’d mend your plows for a year. He’d mend an old shoe, and he’d sharpen an old plow, And the very next day he would take your best cow, And it’s hard times. Now there was an old doctor, I like to forgot, I swear I believe he’s the worst of the lot. He’d tell you he’d cure you for half you possess, And then he’d kill you, and he’d take all the rest, And it’s hard times.
There was an old man, lived all alone, He had three sons, was almost grown. Oh, when he come to make his will, All he had was a little old mill. Come a whack come a ra (2) Whack come a ra come a ri-do. Then he called his oldest son, “Son, oh son, my days are done. Oh, if to you the will I’d make, I’d love to know the toll you take.” Come a whack.... “Father, oh father, my name is Rex. Out of every bushel I’d take a peck. Oh, every bushel the mill would grind, A very good living I would find.” Come a whack... “Well, the mill’s not yours,” the old man cried, “The mill’s not yours,” the old man cried, “Well, the mill’s not yours,” the old man cried, “‘Cause you’ve not fairly learned your trade.” Come a whack... Then he called his next oldest son, “Son, oh son,” my days are done. “Oh, if to you the will I’d make, I’d love to know the toll you’ll take.” Come a whack... “Father, oh father, my name is Ralph. Out of every bushel I’d take a half. Well, every bushel the mill would grind, A very good living I would find.” Come a whack... “Well, the mill’s not yours,” The old man cried, “The mill’s not yours,” The old man cried, “Well, the mill’s not yours,” the old man cried, “‘Cause you’ve not fairly learned your trade.” Come a whack... Then he called his youngest son, “Son, oh son, my days are done. Oh, if to you the will I’d make, I’d love to know the toll you’ll take.” Come a whack... “Father, oh father, my name is Wright. Stealing corn is my delight. I’d steal the corn and swear to the sack, And give him a licking when he got back.” Come a whack... “Well, the mill is yours,” the old man cried, “The mill is yours,” the old man cried, “Well, the mill is yours,” the old man cried. He shut his eyes and there he died. Come a whack...
One morning, one morning, one morning in May, I spied a young couple a-making their way. One was a maiden so tender and fair, And one was a soldier, a brave volunteer. “Good morning, good morning, good morning,” said he, “And where you going, my pretty lady?” “I am going to the banks of the sea, To see the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing.” They hadn’t been walking but a moment or two, When out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew. He played it so sweet you could hear the birds sing, You could hear the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing. “Pretty soldier, pretty soldier, will you marry me?” “Oh no, my pretty maiden, this never can be. I’ve a wife in old England, and children quite three. Two wives and the army’s too many for me.” “Pretty maiden, pretty maiden, it’s time to give o’er.” “Oh no, my pretty soldier, please play one tune more, For I’d rather hear your fiddle and the sound of one string Than to see the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing.” “I’ll go back to old England and stay but one year, Then I willreturn to thee, my little dear. But when I return it will be in the spring, To see the water gliding, hear the nightingale sing.”
Last May morning as I walked out All down by the riverside, There I spied a couple courting That filled my own heart’s pride. “Kind heaven, I’ll bless you my pretty little miss. Will you sing me one more song? Will you be my wife, will you be my bride?” She answered, “I am too young.“ “Then the younger you are, my pretty little miss The better you’ll be to me, And I will vow and solemnly swear That I’ll marry no other but thee.” Now in the first part of that night, Was all in sport and play, But in the later part of that night, All in his arms she lay. The night passed off, the day coming on All cold and bright and clear, The young man rose, put on his clothes, Said, “Fare you well, my dear.” “Then was this the promise you made to me Down by the riverside? You promised that you’d marry me, Make me your own sweet bride.” “Then if I have promised I’d marry you, That’s more than I can do, For I can afford to hunt another girl Just as easily coaxed as you. “Now you go back to your father’s garden, Set down and cry your fill, And then if you think of what you’ve done, Just blame your own good will.” “But a farmer’s daughter now goes to market And walks the streets all through; But me, poor girl, who stays at home And rocks a cradle for you.” But a many a man who stayed at home And sang this many sweet song, But a many man rocks some other man’s babe, Thinks he’s rocking his own.
I am a young sportsman, never yet been taunted. I always had money and plenty when I wanted. Courting these fair ladies, I know it was my folly. My life I would adventure for you, my dearest Molly, Chorus: With your much-a-ring-around Right to my loddy (2) For there’s whiskey in the jar. As I was a going across King’s Mountain, I met Captain Devin, and his money he was counting. First I pull my pistol and then I pull my saber, Saying, “Stand and deliver, for I am your bold deceiver.“ I picked up his gold, feeling gay and jolly, I picked up his gold, took it home to Lottie. Told her all about it, thought she never would deceive me, But the devil’s in the women and they never can be easy. I went to Molly’s chamber for to take a slumber. I went to Molly’s chamber cold, wet, and hungry. I lay down to take a nap, not thinking any matter. She discharged both my pistols and filled them full of water. Next morning very early, between six and seven, There I was surrounded for killing Captain Devin. I reached for my pistol and found I was mistaken, For my pistol was discharged and a prisoner I was taken.
“Well met, well met,” said an old true love, “Well met, well met,” said he. “I once could have married a king’s daughter dear, And she would-a married me.” “I’m sure if you could have married a king’s daughter dear, It was all your blame For I have married a house carpenter, And I think he’s a nice young man.” “If you will leave your house carpenter And go away with me, I will take you where the grass grows green, On the banks of sweet Marie.” “If I should leave my house carpenter And go away with thee, Would you have anything to maintain me on, For to keep me from slavery?” “I have ten ships a-sailing on the sea, A hundred and ten young men. If you will go away with me, You can have all of these at command.” She picked up her sweet little babe, And kisses give it three. Says, “Stay at home, my sweet little babe, Keep your papa company.” We hadn’t been on board more than two weeks; I’m sure it was not three, ‘Til she begin to weep and she begin to mourn, And she wept most bitterly. “Is it for my riches that you weep, Or is it for the store? Or is it for that house carpenter That you never shall see no more?” “It’s neither for your riches that I weep, It’s neither for your store. It’s all about my sweet little babe That I never shall see no more.” We hadn’t been on board more than three weeks; I’m sure it was not four, ‘Til in that ship there sprang a leak, And she sank to rise no more.
Well, I dreamed last night I went a crawlin’ and a creepin’. (2) And I crawled in the room where my baby was sleeping, And I never want to do it again. My baby woke up and she called the law. (2) The next stop I made was the City Hall. Never want to do it again. The judge says, “Young man, don’t you laugh, (2) This crawlin’ and creepin’ gonna be your last. You’ll never want to do it again.” Well, he gave me nine months for crawlin’ and a creepin’, (2) For going in the room where my baby was sleeping, But I never want to do it again. Listen here, young men, when you are sleeping, Don’t never get the habit of crawlin’ and a creepin’ And goin’ in the room where your baby is a sleeping. You’ll never want to do it again.
Early one morning come crawling and creeping, I spied a fair maid was snoring and sleeping. Lay over, lay over, lay your left leg over mine. I said, “Fair maid, may I come to bed to you?” She snored and replied, “I’m afraid you’ll undo me.” Lay over... “Oh no, fair maid I won’t undo you.” She snored and replied, “Then come to bed to me.” Lay over... “You’ve got on drawers and I can’t undo them.” (3) She snored and replied, “Then take a knife to them.” Lay over... “I ain’t had a knife since I can remember.” (3) She snored and replied, “There’s one in the window.” Lay over.... In about nine months and wasn’t that a wonder (3) That it hadn’t got killed in that lightning and thunder. Lay over...
“True love, true love, let us get married. Our love is so great, how can you slight me? If it weren’t for my .... (Stanleys: “I’ll work for you both late and early”) If you my only little wife would be.” “True love, true love, let us consider, We’re both too young for to marry, my dear. When we get married we’re bound together. Let us stay single three more years.” He saw her dancing with another fellow. A jealous thought it came on his mind. “I’ll kill that girl, she’s my own true lover Before another boy shall beat my time.” He went to the barroom and he started to drinking, And a jealous thought it was still on his mind. “I’ll kill that girl, she’s my own true lover I will give her poison in a glass of wine.” He went to [the] window and he called unto her. She said, “Willie, my dear, what do you want with me?” “Come and drink with the man that really loves you, It’s better than any other man,” said he. She went to the barroom and she started to drinking, And her red rosy cheeks they never before, But she did not know what that she was a-drinking, It would lay her in her grave below. She lay her head over on Willie’s shoulder Said, “Willie, my dear, please take me home, For the last glass of wine that I have drinken, It has made it to my head, babe, and done me a wrong.” He laid his head over on her shoulder, And he told her his love, and he read her his mind. “True love, true love, ...... (Stanleys: “Molly dear, I’m sorry to tell you”) We did both drink poison in a glass of wine.” Willie laid his head over on her shoulder, And he placed his arms all across her breast, “Here is two lovers bound together, Oh lord, oh lord, take us home to rest.”
“Young Edward, you look handsome now, Your clothes looks neat and clean. I haven’t saw you drink a drop. Pray tell me a drunkard’s dream.” “I dreamed I staggered home last night, And sadly was the gloom. My wife was gone, where could she be? And strangers filled her room. “I thought my baby said to me ‘Oh poppy, mama’s dead. She will no longer hold to you Or come when I want bread.’ “I dreamed I staggered where she lie And kneeled down by her side. I kissed her lips as cold as clay, Was once so warm and bright. “‘Wake up, wake up, my Mary dear, So natural did it seem. But praise to God forever more, For sending me that dream.”
“Young Edward, where did you stay last night? Pray tell me where you’ve been. I’ve never seen you drink a drop; Pray tell me where you’ve been.” “Oh, Father, cruel old Father, What have you done with him? Have you murdered my young Edward bold, Who ruled the lowlands low?”
When Fortune’s blind goddess had fled my abode, And friends proved unfaithful, I took to the road. To plunder the wealthy and relieve my distress, I bought you to aid me, my bonny Black Bess. No wild whip or spur did your sides ever gall. You needed them not, you’d bound at my call. For each act of kindness you would me caress. Thou art never unfaithful, my bonny Black Bess. When dark sable midnight her mantle had thrown O’er the bright face of nature, many times we have gone To the famed Hounslow heath, though an unwelcome guest To the minions of fortune, my bonny Black Bess. How gentle you’d stand as the stages I’d stop. Down to me their money and the jewelry they’d drop. We’d never rob a poor man or ever oppress Any widows or orphans, my bonny Black Bess. When auger-eyed (i.e., Argus-eyed) Justice did hot me pursue From Yorktown to London like lightning we flew. No toll gates would stop us, high waters we’d breast. In eight hours we made it, my bonny Black Bess. But hate darkens o’er me, despair is my lot. The law does pursue me for many I’ve shot. To save me, my friend, you have done your best. You’re worn out and weary, my bonny Black Bess. Oh, hark, hear the hounds, they never shall have A friend like you, so noble and brave. You must die, my dumb friend, though it does me distress. There, I’ve shot you, my bonny Black Bess. They never can say ingratitude dwells In the breast of Dick Turpin there never was felt. Now I’m surrounded, soon be at rest, Once more I’ll be with my bonny Black Bess.
There’s a wild hog in this mountain cue can com, cue can com, There’s a wild hog in this mountain cue can com, There’s a wild hog in this mountain, a wild hog in this mountain, Saying, kill him, won’t you kill him, cue cum com, cue can com? Kill him, won’t you kill him, cue cum com? Chased that wild hog to his den… There lay the bones of a thousand men. Chased that wild hog to his den… Out with my knife and I begin to skin.
There was a bride, a beautiful bride, And three little babes had she. She sent them away to a foreign country To learn their grammary. They hadn’t been gone but a little while, About three months and a day, 'Til death [dressed white] all over the land And took her babes away. She gave them a bed in the backside room, Spread o’er with nice clean sheets. On top of the bed was a golden spread, She fixed a place to sleep. “Take it off, take it off, sweet mother dear Take it off and [say to me], For how can we stay in this wide wicked world, When there’s a better home for me?” “Oh savior,” cried the dear little bride “Do you still wear a crown? Please send to me my sweet little babes Tonight are in the cold cold [ground].” While being close to Christmas time And the nights were long and cold, Down came running her three little babes, Back to their mother’s home. She fixed them a table in the very [back] room Spread o’er with bread and wine. “Come eat and drink, my sweet little babes, Come eat and drink of mine.” “We can’t eat your bread, sweet mother dear, Or either can we drink of your wine, For yonder stands our sweet savior; From this we must resign.”
In Scarlet Town where I was born, There dwelt a fair young maiden. She was the fairest of them all, And her name was Barbry Allen. Oh, it was in the month of May, When the green buds, they were swelling. Sweet William Green on his deathbed lay, And he called for Barbry Allen. He sent his servants through the town To her own father’s dwelling. “Sweet William’s sick and sent for you, If your name be Barbry Allen.” Then slowly, slowly she got up, And slowly she went to him; But all she said when she got there, “Young man, I think you’re a-dying.” "I’m sick, so sick, I am very sick, A death’s within me dwelling. I’ll never see you by my time If I don’t get Barbry Allen.” “Oh, don’t you remember in yonder town At your own father’s dwelling, You treated me like the ladies around, And you slighted Barbry Allen.” “Yes, I remember in yonder town At my own father’s dwelling. I treated all the ladies around, But I love only Barbry Allen.” Then slowly, slowly, she got up And slowly she went from him. She’d only gone three miles or more, When she heard the death bells toiling. They rung so loud, they spoke so plain, “Hard-hearted Barbry Allen.” She looked to the east and she looked to the west, ‘Til she saw the pale corpse a-coming. “Oh, bring me here that lovely corpse, And let me gaze upon him. Sweet William died for love today, And I must die for sorrow.” They buried him in the old churchyard, And Barbary not far from him; And from his grave there sprang a rose, And a green brier out of Barbry’s. They grew and grew to the old church top, ‘Til they could not grow no higher. They wrapped and bound in a true love’s knot, The red rose and green brier.
My tender parents brought me up, Provided for me well. ‘Twas in the city of Lexington, They put me in the mill. ‘Twas there I spied a fair young maid, On her I cast my eye. I asked her if she’d marry me, And she believed a lie. I went down to her mother’s house At eight o’clock last night. I asked her if she’d take a walk A little way with me. We walked along both side by side, ‘Til we came to a solemn place. I took a stick from off of the fence And struck her in the face. She fell down on her bended knees And loud for mercy did cry, “For heaven’s sake, don’t murder me For I’m unprepared to die.” I did not attend her mercy cry, But I struck her all the more, ‘Til I saw the innocent blood appear That I could never restore. Then I run my hands through her coal black hair, To cover up my sin. I drug her to the riverside, And there I plunged her in. Young men, young men, take warning from me, And if your sweetheart’s true, Don’t ever let the devil get The upper hand of you.
“Now what we gonna do, Lady Margaret?” he said. “Well, it’s what can we do?” said she, “For before tomorrow’s sun goes down, Lord William’s new bride I’ll see, Lord William’s bride I’ll see.” Lady Margaret sat in her high hall window A-combing out her yellow hair, And along came William from the church nearby, Leading his bride so fair (2). Now she threw down her ivory comb, And back she tossed her hair, And down she fell from her high hall window. (She) Never more was seen there (2). Now day is done, and the night’s come on, And the people are all asleep. Lady Margaret rose from her coffin cold, Stood weeping at William’s bed feet (2). “And it’s how do you like your bed making, And it’s how do you like your sheet, And it’s how do you like your new made bride, There in your arms asleep? She’s laying there looking so sweet.” “Well, it’s well that I like this bed making, And it’s well do I like my sheet, But it’s better would I like my own true love Here in my arms asleep, Not a weeping at my bed feet.” “Such a dream what an awful dream I’ve had. I fear it means no good. I dreamed my room was full of tears, And my bride drowned in blood, And my bride all drowned in blood.” And then he called down his waiting men, By one, and two and three. “Will you ask me to leave of my new made bride, For Lady Margaret I would see, For Lady Margaret I must see.” “Now if you go back to your Lady Margaret, Then what’s to become of me?” “Well, I won’t be gone but an hour or two, Until I return unto thee, Then I’ll be true to thee.” “Oh, is she in her bowery room, Or is she in her hall, Or is she in her chambery, A lady among them all? Lady Margaret’s the fairest of all.”


Outside of the Preview volume (FRC800), the 15 volumes of this survey focus on specific themes within North American traditional music. The tracks are entirely drawn from the North American Traditions (NAT) collection, recorded between 1972 and 2008, primarily by myself, Lou Curtiss, John Harrod, Morgan MacQuarrie, Gordon McCann, and Gus Meade. Most of these recordings were made in connection with a series of commercial releases by Rounder Records, although much of the present survey has not been previously released in any form. The 16 FRC releases serve both as a guide to the full NAT Research Archive (which is now publicly accessible; see tinyurl[dot]com/NAT-Research-Archive) and as a vehicle for outlining what we have learned about these songs and their position within historical tradition. To this end, Norm Cohen, myself, and others have prepared extensive notes for each volume (see tinyurl[dot]com/NAT-volume-notes).

Volume 1 concentrates upon the older songs and ballads that originated within the British Isles but have often assumed markedly different musical personalities as they have adapted to the American experience. Some of the musicians sampled here are comparatively well known, whereas others have never appeared on disc before.

—Mark Wilson

Extensive album notes are included with this download or may be found at tinyurl[dot]com/V1-NAT-notes.


released August 7, 2023

©2022 Field Recorders’ Collective, Inc. Produced by Mark Wilson and John Schwab. Mastered by John Schwab. All tracks Ⓟ Mark Wilson. Graphic design: Jim Garber, PaperClip Design. Photos © Mark Wilson (cover photo: Mary and John Lozier). Detailed credits in the accompanying PDF notes, included with this download. Special thanks to Norm Cohen, Bill Nowlin, and John Harrod.


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