CHILDREN’S SONGS AND GAMES

“Singing Together”


Aiken Drum

There was a man lived in the moon,
Lived in the moon, lived in the moon
There was a man lived in the moon,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

Chorus:
And he played upon a ladle,
A ladle, a ladle,
And he played upon a ladle,
and his name was Aiken Drum.

And his hat was made of good cream cheese,
Of good cream cheese, of good cream cheese,
And his hat was made of good cream cheese
And his name was Aiken Drum.

Chorus

And his coat was made of good roast beef,
Of good roast beef, of good roast beef,
And his coat was made of good roast beef,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

Chorus

And his buttons made of penny loaves,
Of penny loaves, of penny loaves,
And his buttons made of penny loaves,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

Chorus

And his breeches made of haggis bags
Of haggis bags, of haggis bags
And his breeches made of haggis bags,
And his name was Aiken Drum.

Chorus


Bobby Shaftoe

Bobby Shafto’s gone to sea,
Silver buckles on his knee,
He’ll come back and marry me,
Bonny Bobby Shafto!

Bobby Shafto’s bright and fair,
Combing down his yellow hair;
He’s my love for evermair,
Bonny Bobby Shafto!


Bonnie Dundee

Tae the lairds i’ convention t’was Claverhouse spoke
E’er the Kings crown go down, there’ll be crowns to be broke;
Then let each cavalier who loves honour and me
Come follow the bonnet o’ bonnie Dundee.

Chorus:
Come fill up my cup, come fill up my can
Saddle my horses and call out my men
And it’s Ho! for the west port and let us gae free,
And we’ll follow the bonnets o’ bonnie Dundee!

Dundee he is mounted, he rides doon the street,
The bells they ring backwards*, the drums they are beat,
But the Provost, douce man, says “Just e’en let him be
For the toon is well rid of that de’il o’ Dundee.”

Chorus.

There are hills beyond Pentland and lands beyond Forth,
Be there lairds i’ the south, there are chiefs i’ the north!
There are brave duniewassals, three thousand times three
Will cry “Hoy!” for the bonnets o’ bonnie Dundee.

Chorus.

Then awa’ to the hills, to the lea, to the rocks
E’er I own a usurper, I’ll couch wi’ the fox!
Then tremble, false Whigs, in the midst o’ your glee
Ye ha’ no seen the last o’ my bonnets and me.

Chorus.


Camptown Races

De Camptown ladies sing dis song
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
De Camptown racetrack five miles long
Oh! doo-dah day!
I come down dah wid my hat caved in
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
I go back home wid a pocket full of tin —
Oh! doo-dah day!

Chorus
Gwine to run all night! Gwine to run all day!
I’ll bet my money on de bob-tail nag
Somebody bet on de bay!

De long tail filly and de big black hoss —
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Dey fly de track and dey both cut across
Oh! doo-dah day!
De blind hoss sticken in a big mud hole
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Can’t touch bottom wid a ten foot pole
Oh! doo-dah day!

Chorus

Old muley cow come on to de track —
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
De bob-tail fling her ober his back —
Oh! doo-dah day!
Den fly along like a rail-road car
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Runnin’ a race with a shootin’ star —
Oh! doo-dah day!

Chorus

Seen dem flyin’ on a ten mile heat
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
Round de race track, den repeat
Oh! doo-dah day!
I win my money on de bob-tail nag
Doo-dah! doo-dah!
I keep my money in an old tow-bag
Oh! doo-dah day!

Chorus


Dashing Away With The Smoothing Iron

’Twas on a Monday morning
When I beheld my darling
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-washing of her linen, O!

Dashing away with the smoothing iron
Dashing away with the smoothing iron
She stole my heart away.

’Twas on a Tuesday morning
When I beheld my darling
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-hanging out her linen, O!

Chorus.

’Twas on a Wednesday morning
When I beheld my darling
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-starching of her linen, O!

Chorus.

’Twas on a Thursday morning
When I beheld my darling
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-ironing of her linen, O!

Chorus.

’Twas on a Friday morning
When I beheld my darling
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-folding of her linen, O!

Chorus.

’Twas on a Saturday morning
When I beheld my darling
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree
She looked so neat and nimble, O
An-airing of her linen, O!

Chorus.

’Twas on a Sunday morning
When I beheld my darling
She looked so neat and charming
In every high degree
She looked so neat and nimble, O
A-wearing of her linen, O!

Chorus.


The Drummer and the Cook

This song has variants

Oh there was a little drummer and he loved a wall-eyed cook,
He loved her, oh he loved her, though she had a cock-eyed look.
With her one eye on the pot and the other up the chimney,
With a bow wow wow, fa la the dow-a-diddy, bow wow wow.

And this couple went a courtin’ for to walk along the shore,
Said the drummer to the cookie, “You’re the girl that I adore.”
With her one eye on the pot and the other up the chimney,
With a bow wow wow, fa la the dow-a-diddy, bow wow wow.

Said the drummer to the cookie “Will you name the wedding day?”,
Said the cookie “We’ll be married in the merry month of May.”
With her one eye on the pot and the other up the chimney,
With a bow wow wow, fa la the dow-a-diddy, bow wow wow.

Said the drummer to the cookie, “Will you buy the wedding ring?”
Said the cookie “Now you’re talkin’, that would be the very thing.”
With her one eye on the pot and the other up the chimney,
With a bow wow wow, fa la the dow-a-diddy, bow wow wow.

When they went to church to say “I will” the drummer got a shock,
For her one eye killed the parson and the other stopped the clock.
With her one eye on the pot and the other up the chimney
With a bow wow wow, fa la the dow-a-diddy, bow wow wow.


D’ye ken John Peel

D’ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay,
D’ye ken John Peel at the break of day,
D’ye ken John Peel when he’s far away,
With his hounds and his horn in the morning.

For the sound of his horn brought me from my bed
And the cry of his hounds which he oft times led,
Peel’s ’view hullo’ would awaken the dead
Or the fox from his lair in the morning.

Yes I ken John Peel and Ruby too
Ranter and Ringwood and Bellman and True,
From a find to a check, from a check to a view
From a view to a death in the morning.

Then here’s to John Peel with my heart and soul
Let’s drink to his health, let’s finish the bowl,
We’ll follow John Peel through fair and through foul
If we want a good hunt in the morning.


Early One Morning

Early one morning,
Just as the sun was rising,
I heard a young maid sing
In the valley below.

Oh, don’t deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you use
A poor maiden so?

Remember the vows
That you made to your Mary,
Remember the bow’r
Where you vowed to be true.

Chorus

Oh gay is the garland,
And fresh are the roses,
I’ve culled from the garden,
To place upon thy brow.

Chorus

Thus sang the poor maiden,
Her sorrows bewailing,
Thus sang the poor maid,
In the valley below.

Chorus


Elsie Marley

Elsie Marley is so fine
She won’t get up to feed the swine
But lies in bed till eight or nine,
Lazy Elsie Marley!


The Girl I Left Behind Me

I’m lonesome since I crossed the hill
And oe’r the moor and valley
Such heavy thoughts my hearts do fill
Since parting from my Sally.

I seek no more the fine and gay
For each doth but remind me
How swiftly passed the hours away
With the girl I left behind me.

Oh ne’er shall I forget that night
The stars were bright above me
And gently lent silv’ry light
When first she vowed to love me.

But now I’m bound for Brighton camp,
Kind Heaven then pray guide me,
And send me safely back again
To the girl I left behind me.

Her golden hair in ringlets fair
Her eyes like diamonds shining
Her slender waist, with carriage chaste
May leave the swain repining,

O God above! O hear my prayer!
Thy beauteous fair to bind me,
And send me safely back again
To the girl I left behind me.


Hearts of Oak

Come cheer up my lads,
’Tis to glory we steer
To add something more
To this wonderful year
To honour we call you,
As free men, not slaves
For who are so free
As the sons of the waves

Hearts of oak are our ships
Jolly tars are our men
We’re always at the ready
Steady, boys, steady
We’ll fight and we’ll conquer,
Again and again

Our worthy forefathers,
Let’s give them a cheer
To climates unknown
Did courageously steer
Through oceans to deserts,
For freedom they came
And dying, bequeathed us
Their freedom and fame

Hearts of oak are our ships
Jolly tars are our men
We’re always at the ready
Steady, boys, steady
We’ll fight and we’ll conquer,
Again and again.


The Jovial Beggar

There was a jovial beggar,
He had a wooden leg,
Lame from his cradle,
And forced for to beg.
And a-begging we will go, we’ll go, we’ll go;
And a-begging we will go!

A bag for his oatmeal,
Another for his salt;
And a pair of crutches,
To show that he can halt.
And a-begging, &c.

A bag for his wheat,
Another for his rye;
A little bottle by his side,
To drink when he’s a-dry.
And a-begging, &c.

Seven years I begged
For my old Master Wild,
He taught me to beg
When I was but a child.
And a-begging, &c.

I begged for my master,
And got him store of pelf;
But now, Jove be praised!
I’m begging for myself.
And a-begging, &c.

In a hollow tree
I live, and pay no rent;
Providence provides for me,
And I am well content.
And a-begging, &c.

Of all the occupations,
A beggar’s life’s the best;
For whene’er he’s weary,
He’ll lay him down and rest.
And a-begging, &c.

I fear no plots against me,
I live in open cell;
Then who would be a king
When beggars live so well?
And a-begging, &c.


I’s the by that builds the boat

I’s the b’y that builds the boat
And I’s the b’y that sails her
I’s the b’y that catches the fish
And takes ’em home to Lizer.

Hip your partner, Sally Tibbo,
Hip your partner, Sally Brown,
Fogo, Twillingate, Morton’s Harbour,
All around the circle!


The Lass of Richmond Hill

On Richmond Hill there lives a lass
More bright than May-day morn
Whose charms all other maids’ surpass
A rose without a thorn.
This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet
Has won my right good will
I’d crowns resign to call thee mine
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.

Sweet lass of Richmond Hill
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill
I’d crowns resign to call thee mine
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.

Ye zephyrs gay that fan the air
And wanton thro’ the grove
O whisper to my charming fair
“I die for her I love. “
This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet
Has won my right good will
I’d crowns resign to call thee mine
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.

Sweet lass of Richmond Hill
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill
I’d crowns resign to call thee mine
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.


The Lincolnshire Poacher

When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire
Full well I served my master for more than seven years
Till I took up to poaching, as you shall quickly hear
Oh, ’tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

As me and my companions were setting of a snare
’Twas then we spied the gamekeeper, for him we dld not care
Far we can wrestle and fight, my boys and jump out anywhere
Oh, ’tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

As me and my companions were setting four or five
And taking on ’em up again, we caught a hare alive
We took a hare alive my boys, and through the woods did steer
Oh, ’tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

I threw him on my shoulder and then we trudged home
We took him to a neighbour’s house, and sold him for a crown
We sold him for a crown, my boys, but I did not tell you where
Oh, ’tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.

Success to ev’ry gentleman that lives in Lincolnshire
Success to every poacher that wants to sell a hare
Bad luck to ev’ry gamekeeper that will not sell his deer
Oh, ’tis my delight on a shiny night in the season of the year.


Linden Lea

Within the woodlands, flowery gladed,
By the oak tree’s mossy moot,
The shining grass-blades, timber-shaded,
Now do quiver under foot;
And birds do whistle overhead,
And water’s bubbling in its bed,
And there for me the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

When leaves that lately were a-springing
Now do fade within the copse,
And painted birds do hush their singing
Up upon the timber tops;
And brown-leaved fruit’s a-turning red,
In cloudless sunshine, overhead,
With fruit for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.

Let other folk make money faster
In the air of dark-roomed towns,
I don’t dread a peevish master;
Though no man do heed my frowns,
I be free to go abroad,
Or take again my homeward road
To where, for me, the apple tree
Do lean down low in Linden Lea.


Men of Harlech

Men of Harlech! In the Hollow,
Do ye hear like rushing billow
Wave on wave that surging follow
Battle’s distant sound?

Tis the tramp of Saxon foemen,
Saxon spearmen, Saxon bowmen,
Be they knights or hinds or yeomen,
They shall bite the ground!

Loose the folds asunder,
Flag we conquer under!
The placid sky now bright on high,
Shall launch its bolts in thunder!

Onward! ’tis the country needs us,
He is bravest, he who leads us
Honor’s self now proudly heads us,
Freedom, God and Right!

Rocky Steeps and passes narrow,
Flash with spear and flight of arrow
Who would think of death or sorrow?
Death is glory now!

Hurl the reeling horsemen over,
Let the earth dead foemen cover
Fate of friend, of wife, of lover,
Trembles on a blow!

Strands of life are riven!
Blow for blow is given
In deadly lock, or battle shock,
And mercy shrieks to heaven!

Men of Harlech! young or hoary,
Would you win a name in story?
Strike for home, for life, for glory!
Freedom, God and Right!


Michael Finnegan

There was an old man called Michael Finnegan,
He grew whiskers on his chinnigin,
The wind came up and blew them in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan,
Begin again.

There was an old man called Michael Finnegan,
He grew whiskers on his chinnigin,
The wind came up and blew them in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan,
Begin again.

There was an old man called Michael Finnegan,
He grew whiskers on his chinnigin,
The wind came up and blew them in again,
Poor old Michael Finnegan,
Begin again
Begin again.


Oh no, John

On yonder hill there stands a maiden,
Who she is I do not know,
I will court her for her beauty,
She must answer yes or no.
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

My father was a Spanish Captain,
Went to sea a month ago,
First he kissed me, then he left me,
Bid me always answer no.
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Oh madam in your face is beauty,
On your lips red roses grow,
Will you take me for your lover,
Madam answer yes or no.
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Oh madam I will give you jewels,
I will make you rich and free,
I will give you silken dresses,
Madam will you marry me?
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Oh madam since you are so cruel,
And that you do scorn me so,
If I may not be your lover,
Madam will you let me go?
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Then I will stay with you forever,
If you will not be unkind,
Madam, I have vowed to love you,
Would you have me change my mind?
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!

Oh hark, I hear the churchbells ringing,
Will you come and be my wife?
Or dear madam, have you settled,
To live single all your life?
Oh no John, No John, No John, No!


O soldier, soldier, won’t you marry me?

O soldier, soldier, won’t you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have no coat to put on.

So up she went to her grandfather’s chest
And she got him a coat of the very, very best,
She got him a coat of the very, very best,
And the soldier put it on.

O soldier, soldier, won’t you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you,
For I have no hat to put on.

So up she went to her grandfather’s chest
And she got him a hat of the very, very best,
She got him a hat of the very, very best,
And the soldier put it on.

O soldier, soldier, won’t you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have no gloves to put on.

So up she went to her grandfather’s chest
And she got him a pair of the very, very best,
She got him a pair of the very, very best
And the soldier put them on.

O soldier, soldier, won’t you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have no boots to put on.

So up she went to her grandfather’s chest
And she got him a pair of the very, very best,
She got him a pair of the very, very best,
And the soldier put them on.

O soldier, soldier, won’t you marry me
With your musket fife and drum?
O no sweet maid I cannot marry you
For I have for I have a wife of my own.


The Raggle-Taggle Gypsies

Three gypsies stood at the castle gate,
They sang so high, they sang so low,
The lady sat in her chamber late,
Her heart it melted away as snow.

The sang so sweet, they sang so shrill
That fast her tears began to flow,
And she laid down her silken gown
Her golden rings and all her show.

She plucked off her high-heeled shoes
A-made of Spanish leather-o,
She went in the street with her bare, bare feet
All out in the wind and weather-o.

O saddle to me my milk-white steed
And go and fetch my pony-o
That I may ride and seek my bride
Who is gone with the raggle taggle gipsies-o.

O he rode high and he rode low,
He rode through wood and copses too
Until he came to an open field
And there he espied his lady-o.

What makes you leave your house and land,
Your golden treasures for to go?
What makes you leave your new-wedded lord
To follow the raggle taggle gipsies-o?

What care I for my house and my land?
What care I for my treasure-o?
What care I for my newly-wedded lord?
I’m off with the raggle taggle gypsies-o.

Last night you slept on a goose feather bed
With the sheets turned down so bravely-o,
For tonight you willl sleep in a cold open field
Along with the raggle taggle gypsies-o.

What care I for a goose-feather bed
With the sheets turned down so bravely-o?
For tonight I shall sleep in a cold open field
Along with the raggle taggle gypsies-o.


Uist Tramping Song

Come along, come along,
Let us foot it out together,
Come along, come along,
Be it fair or stormy weather,
With the hills of home before us
And the purple of the heather,
Let us sing in happy chorus,
Come along, come along.

O gaily sings the lark,
And the sky’s all awake
With the promise of the day,
For the road we gladly take;
So it’s heel and toe and forward,
Bidding farewell to the town,
For the welcome that awaits us
Ere the sun goes down.

Come along, come along, etc

It’s the call of sea and shore,
It’s the tang of bog and peat,
And the scent of brier and myrtle
That puts magic in our feet;
So it’s on we go rejoicing,
Over bracken, over stile,
And it’s soon we will be tramping
Out the last long mile.

Come along, come along, etc


What shall we do with the Drunken Sailor

What shall we do with the drunken sailor
What shall we do with the drunken sailor,
What shall we do with the drunken sailor,
Early in the morning?

Chorus: Hooray! and up she rises,
Hooray! and up she rises,
Hooray! and up she rises,
Early in the morning!

Put him in the long boat ’til he’s sober
Put him in the long boat ’til he’s sober
Put him in the long boat ’til he’s sober
Early in the morning!

Put out the plug and wet him all over
Put out the plug and wet him all over
Put out the plug and wet him all over
Early in the morning!

Put him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him
Put him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him
Put him in the scuppers with a hosepipe on him
Early in the morning!

Heave him by the leg in a runnin’ bowling
Heave him by the leg in a runnin’ bowling
Heave him by the leg in a runnin’ bowling
Early in the morning!

 

Contact: Stephanie Jenkins

 

Last updated: 11 November, 2014