Song picture
By The Ash Grove (Take 1)
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This is a traditional Welsh that I play on just guitar with a keyboard bass.
lute philip rosseter robert jones put your bum to work you wont like most of it frances pilkington
Artist picture
Elisha Zaporelostzi's first performances were the Open Stages put on by the Bytown Live in Ottawa Ontario, Canada. It is how Neil Young and Joni Mitchell started. Phreap magazine is a one page thing that went around Ottawa in the 1980s. Now it is a web site; http://home.att.ne.jp/blue/patchan With the help of Joe-Charly Smith, Molly Ding, Calhoon-Fred Febealie, and Butter Jones I was able to put out Phreap magazine.
Song Info
Author
Traditional Public domain
Rights
P. T. Connolly
Uploaded
May 22, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 1.4 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Story behind the song
This is the first take of my recording, of The Ash Grove, that I did on August 17, 2001. I only got through one strain of the song. I did a complete second take of the song and sang it, however there are flaws in my singing that I may try and repair, later. In the meantime I thought I would throw up this, short and forgotten simple frist take, just to get (something of) a second song on my SoundClick site. There is a nice site by Gail Gurman that gives a history of this delightful, traditional, Welsh song. Learn about The Ash Grove by going to; http://www.gurman.org/ashgrove - Trick T Olly
Lyrics
The Ash Grove (Take 1 - August 17, 2001) A traditional Welsh song. Down yonder green valley, Where streamlets meander, When twilight is fading, I pensively rove, Or at the bright noontide, In solitude wander, Amid the dark shades of The lonely ash grove. ÔTwas there while the blackbirds Were joyfully singing, I first met that dear one, The joy of my heart; Around us for gladness, The bluebells were ringing, Ah! then little thought I How soon we should part. Still glows the bright sunshine, O'er valley and mountain, Still warbles the blackbird, His note from the tree. Still trembles the moonbeam On streamlet and fountain, But what are the beauties Of nature to me? With sorrow, deep sorrow, My bosom is laden, All day I go mourning In search of my love. Ye echoes, oh tell me, Where is the sweet maiden? She sleeps 'neath the green turf Down by the Ash Grove.
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