to see the Notes.
Place cursor on the red asterisks to see the Notes.
| Italics indicate the refrain |
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It's of a pretty ploughboy was gazing o'er his plough His horses stood resting 'neath the shade 'Twas down in yonder grove he went whistling to his plough And he chanced there to meet a pretty maid, pretty maid, And chanced there to meet a pretty maid And this was his song as he walked along Sweet maid you are of high degree If I should fall in love and your parents come to know The next thing they would send me to the sea, to the sea The next thing they would send me to the sea O when that her parents they did come to know The ploughboy was ploughing on the plain A press gang they were sent for and they took her love away And they sent him to the wars to be slain, to be slain, And they sent him to the wars to be slain Well, early next morning she dressed all in her best Her pockets she lined well with gold This maid she traced the streets with tears all in her eyes Until she met a jolly sailor bold, sailor bold, Until she met a jolly sailor bold O sailor have you seen my pretty ploughing boy? A press gang has taken him to sea He has just sailed for the fleet but his captain you can meet If you care to take a ride along with me, 'long with me If you care to take a ride along with me They rowed till they came to the ship her love was in Then unto the captain did complain Have you seen my pretty ploughboy, O captain, she did cry That is sent to the wars to be slain, to be slain That is sent to the wars to be slain One hundred bright guineas she freely then pulled out And gently she trolled them on the floor The ploughboy he was sent for and she took him in her arms Then she rowed her pretty ploughboy safe to shore, safe to shore Then she rowed her pretty ploughboy safe to shore Then blessed be the day when all true lovers meet And young men are no longer sent to war She set the bells to ring and so sweetly did she sing Because she found the lad she adored, she adored, Because she found the lad she adored. |
Contributed by Annie Dearman (gamut @ dial.pipex.com) - 6.4.05
The song Pretty Ploughboy is not untypical of the process by which Dearman, Gammon and Harrison repertory is developed. Having spent a fair number of years singing in various harmony groups in Essex, my home county, I naturally spent many hours at Cecil Sharp house trawling for suitable material. I had amassed many photocopies, some of which were never pressed into service at the time, but languished in files until recently. My move to Yorkshire some fifteen years ago ironically rekindled an interest in singing songs collected in Essex. One photocopy of a song collected by Ralph Vaughan Williams from Mr Pottipher in Ingrave not far from Ingatestone where my grandmother was born, showed only one verse and a delightful tune, immediately seized upon by my partner Steve. This fragment set me on a quest to find more. Enquiries to Cecil Sharp house revealed more tunes and verses, none of which took our fancy (though you might take a different view). There are versions recorded by Walter Pardon (whose tune is similar to Mr Pottipher’s) and Harry Cox. I then turned my attention to the Broadside collection housed at the Bodleian Library. Steve and I have used a text that we uncovered there to form the basis of the song. Most of the textual changes that we made were in order to adapt its metre to fit our preferred tune. We condensed the final two verses of the broadside into one in order to avoid some rather clumsy and contradictory sentiments of the original. In verse 6, we substituted ‘rowed’ for ‘rode’ on the grounds that the ploughboy was later rowed safely to shore, implying that his true love must earlier have been rowed out to the fleet by the kindly jolly sailor. We thought that the tune demanded a refrain in the Sussex style, and indeed we are not the only performers of this song to have done so.
Notes on construction of the song:
| Broadside - Pretty ploughboy | Changes to text by AD & SH |
|---|---|
|
It is of a pretty
ploughboy was
gazing o’er his plough His horses stood under the
shade T’was down in yon grove he
went whistling to his plough And # chanced # to meet a pretty maid. |
It’s resting ‘neath the shade yonder When he there |
|
And this was his song as he
walked along Sweet maid you are of high
degree If I should fall in love and
your parents come to know The next thing they would send
me to # sea |
the |
|
O when # her loving
parents # # came to know The ploughboy was ploughing on the plain A pressgang # was sent # and they pressed her love away # they sent him to the wars to be slain |
that they did come The pressgang they were sent for And |
|
# # # # she dressed herself all in her best Her pockets she lined well with gold # # # # To see her trudge the streets with tears # in her eyes # # # # When in search
of her jolly sailor bold |
Well, early next morning This maid she traced all Until she met a |
|
The first that she met was a jolly sailor bold Have you seen my pretty ploughboy she cried He has just crossed the deep in sailing for the fleet Then he said my pretty maid will you ride? |
O sailor have you seen my pretty ploughing boy The pressgang has taken him to sea He has just sailed for the fleet And his captain you can meet If you care to take a ride along with me |
|
She rode till she came to the ship her love was in Then unto the captain did complain Says she I am come to seek my pretty ploughboy That is sent to the wars to be slain |
They rowed till they
Have you seen my pretty ploughboy? O captain, she did cry |
|
One hundred bright guineas she freely # pulled out And gently she told them all o’er And when she had got him in her arms She hugged him till he got on shore |
then trolled on the floor The ploughboy he was sent for And she took him in her arms Then she rowed her pretty ploughboy Safe to shore |
|
When she had got her pretty ploughboy in her arms Where oft she had had him before She set the bells to ring and so sweetly did she sing Because she met the lad she did adore |
(see combined last verse) |
|
Then blessed be the day when all true lovers do meet Their sorrows are at an end The last cruel war called many lads away And their true lovers will never find them more |
Then blessed be the day when all true lovers meet And young men, no longer sent to war She set the bells to ring And so sweetly she did sing Because she found the lad that she adored |