Annotation:Cruel wars of high Germany: Difference between revisions
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'''CRUEL WARS OF HIGH GERMANY.''' English, Air (6/8 time). G Major. Standard tuning (fiddle). One part. Cecil Sharp writes: | '''CRUEL WARS OF HIGH GERMANY.''' English, Air (6/8 time). G Major. Standard tuning (fiddle). One part. Cecil Sharp writes: | ||
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<font color=red>''Printed sources''</font> : - Milligan-Fox & Hughes | <font color=red>''Printed sources''</font> : - Milligan-Fox & Hughes, ''Journal of the Irish Folk Song Society'', vol. 1, no. 1, 1904; p. 10. | ||
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Latest revision as of 05:20, 13 November 2021
X:1 T:Cruel wars of high Germany M:6/8 L:1/8 R:Air B:Journal of the Irish Folk Song Society vol. 1 No. 1 (1904, p. 10) N:Contributed by Cecil Sharp K:G G|G3G2A|B2A G2G|A2G G2G|G3-G2G| A3A2B|c2Bc2d|e2d d2e|d3 d2B| [M:9/8]G2B d2d e2f|[M:6/8] g3 f2g|e2e g2e|d3 G2A| B2B c2d|e2d B2G|A2G G2G|(G3 G2)||
CRUEL WARS OF HIGH GERMANY. English, Air (6/8 time). G Major. Standard tuning (fiddle). One part. Cecil Sharp writes:
Taken down from Tom Sprachlan at Hambridge, Somerset, on Dec. 29th, 1903. Words are printed on a broadside by Such, No. 329. The tune has some affinity with "Blue Muslin" in "Songs of the West." Whether it is a genuine Irish tune I should not like to say, but it has certainly some Irish characteristics. I noted the same song from an old singer in another part of Somerset to, however, a different and a far older modal melody.
O Polly, dear Polly, the rout has now begun,
And I must away by the beating of the drum;
So you dress yourself in all your best, and come along with me,
And I'll take you to the cruel wars of High Germany.
O Harry, dear Harry, you mind what I do say,
My feet are so tender I cannot march away;
And besides, dear Harry, I am in love with thee,
I'm not fitted for the cruel wars of High Germany.
O I'll buy you a horse, my love, and on it you shall ride,
And all my delight shall be a-riding by your side;
So we'll call at every ale-house and drink when we are dry,
As quickly on the road, my boys, we'll marry by and by.
O cursed was the cruel wars that ever they should rise,
And out of Merry England pressed many a lad likewise;
They pressed young Harry from me, likewise my brothers three,
And sent them to the cruel wars of High Germany.