Andrew McKay & Carole Etherton

Songs marked "PBLG" are on "Pennbucky to Llangenny", those marked "CHAR" are on "Characters"

Tomorrow Noon (CHAR)
© Andrew McKay

My hills are green beneath the sun and grey beneath the rain;
My hills will stand for ever, though I'll not stand here again.
My hills are brown with bracken fronds and purple with the ling:
Though I may walk a far-off land it's of my hills I'll sing.
(Chorus) So we'll raise the glass of fellowship and the words of friendship say,
But tomorrow noon is coming soon, and I am going away
Yes tomorrow noon is coming soon and I am going away.

My streams are white beneath the stars and black upon the stones;
They run below my fathers' walls and above my fathers' bones.
Beside my streams my parents worked, my children played their games;
Though my streams are left so far behind, I'll not forget their names.
(Chorus)

Yes, I'll leave behind old memories, but also old restraints;
I'll leave the bones of sinners alongside those of saints.
I'll face a new tomorrow into which my dreams have flown
And I will walk a far-off land and call it's plains my own.
(Chorus) So we'll raise the glass of fellowship and the words of friendship say,
But tomorrow noon is coming soon, and I am going away
Yes tomorrow noon is coming soon and I am going away.

An emigration song, remembering the land soon to be left while admitting to its drawbacks and looking forward to a new life. For anyone who has ever moved home in search of a better tomorrow.

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Too High or else Too Low (CHAR)
© Andrew McKay

There was a jolly tinker, a worker in fine metal,
Who swore that he would mend a crack in any pot or kettle, oh
The farmer's daughter hearing this, said to him "Ah no!
I'm sure your hammers they would beat
Too high or else too low, too low,
I'm sure your hammers they would beat too high or else too low."

"But you come into the kitchen and we'll sit upon the floor,
I'll show to you a little pot that needs some working over,
And if you do your work right well, to pay I won't be slow,
But still I'm sure your hammers would beat
Too high or else too low, too low,
Still I'm sure your hammers would beat too high or else too low."

But when the tinker was at work, the maid in anger cried,
Because he did not clench his nails upon the further side, oh.
He said "Your kettle's very cracked, it'd never stand the blow,
It isn't that my hammers beat
Too high or else too low, too low,
It isn't that my hammers beat too high or else too low."

"Your kettle's in a sorry state, it's very worn and old,
There have so many nails been drove, that mine can't get a hold, oh,
It never more will liquor take, and that's the truth you know,
It isn't that my hammers beat
Too high or else too low, too low,
It isn't that my hammers beat too high or else too low."

This maid she sighed and sobbed and cried, "Oh come, for pity's sake!
I know it has endured some knocks, but a few more it will take yet!
I know it would good liquor hold, if you'd strike the rising blow,
The trouble is, your hammers beat
Too high or else too low, too low,
The trouble is, your hammers beat too high or else too low."

She said that she'd improve his wage, if he'd improve his work,
He squared his shoulders in a rage, and hammered like a Turk, oh.
At last he got her kettle stopped, which pleased this maiden so,
No more did she complain he beat
Too high or else too low, too low,
No more did she complain he beat too high or else too low.

The farmer's maid was pleased with what he had contrived to do,
But after forty weeks were up, her kettle fell in two, oh.
So now she has a pair of little saucepans on the go,
I hope she will no more complain,
"Too high or else too low, too low,"
I hope she will no more complain, "Too high or else too low."

Based loosely on an anonymous broadsheet published in "The Common Muse", but substantially re-written and set to a suitably scurrilous tune. It tells the old story of the travelling tinker who goes about stopping up the holes in ladies' kettles - and if you believe that, you'll believe anything!

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Walk Her Away (CHAR)
© Andrew McKay

(Chorus) So, heave her up and walk her away,
Stamp her, me bullies, round,
We are warping her out of the old North Dock
And she's sailing away from town.

She's sailing away with a bully, bully crew,
The finest that sailed the sea,
And we're warping her out of the old North Dock,
We're the crew of the dockside quay.
(Chorus)

Here's old blind Jenks, he's the leader of our crew,
His lights went out long ago,
But he can tell by the sounds in the timber and the rope
How well the work do go.
(Chorus)

Here's old Molly Grey from the stone-crushing crew,
With her pipe and her old green shawl,
She is grasping at the timber with her copper-stained hands
As we heave from pawl to pawl.
(Chorus)

Here's Banjo Dan with the strings upon his back,
He sailed the sea long ago,
He can sing you a song of the girl he left behind
In the port of Callao.
(Chorus)

Here's young Alice Lee, she lives behind the quay,
Where her father runs the bar,
She's winking at a sailor boy up upon the deck
As she heaves at the old wooden spar.
(Chorus)

For she's sailing away to the far southern seas,
Where the waves roll high and cold,
She will turn our coal into the finest copper ore,
Then we'll turn all her copper into gold.
(Chorus) So, heave her up and walk her away,
Stamp her, me bullies, round,
We are warping her out of the old North Dock
And she's sailing away from town.

Before the advent of tugboats, ships were warped in and out of dock with quay-mounted capstans (photo, top). Anyone around at the time was likely to be drafted in to help, so this was one time when men and women would work, and sing shanties, together. Everyone who works in the docks ultimately depends for their prosperity on the success of the ship's voyage.

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Young Billy Young he was handsome, he was bold,
He was always on the lookout when the dice of fate were rolled,
If a chance came along, he didn't need to be told;
"It's do it now or never", said young Billy Young.
"Oh do it now or never", said young Billy Young.

Young Billy Young took a ship from the quay,
To cross the mighty ocean to far Amerikee,
With his hopes for the future he set out to sail the sea,
"Oh, do it now or never", said young Billy Young
"Oh do it now or never", said young Billy Young

Young Billy's ship had just left Ireland on the lee,
When a French Man o' War came up and hailed them haughtily
"If you don't back your sails up we'll sink you in the sea!"
"Oh do it now or never", said young Billy Young
"Oh do it now or never", said young Billy Young

Young Billy Young he was taken back to Brest
Where they put him in a prison ship along with all the rest,
"I'm getting out of here, it's making me depressed,
"Oh, do it now or never", said young Billy Young
"Oh do it now or never", said young Billy Young

A ship into Brest from the Admiralty came,
With words of kings and diplomats a-playing of the game,
"She's sailing homewards and I'd like to do the same,
"Oh, do it now or never", said young Billy Young
"Oh do it now or never", said young Billy Young

So he slid into the water and he swam upon the tide,
The sailors hauled him up upon the frigate's further side,
The Captain said, "I'll take you home to Swansea by and by."
"Oh do it now or never," said young Billy Young.
"Oh do it now or never", said young Billy Young

Billy Young's adventure took place in 1796, during the French Wars. Navies at that time had to be self-financing, and civilian ships were often siezed, their crews pressed, and their passengers ransomed or sold into slavery. After his escape, Billy seems to have given up thoughts of emigrating to America and settled in South Wales. Under his full name of William Weston Young, he followed several careers, as land surveyor, marine salvage consultant, inventor (he developed a heat-resistant silica brick used to line furnace chimneys) and, perhaps most successfully, a painter of fine ceramics at the celebrated Nant Garw and Cambrian Potteries.

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