True English Evening
Sunday night I had Sunday Roast dinner with the family I'm living with and with a couple of their friends who were in town on holiday. These friends were not just any old friends - they were the former vicar at the church here and his lovely wife - both quite characters.Dinner was absolutely wonderful - roast lamb with onion gravy, mint sauce, veg, roast potatoes and brown gravy. For dessert, cherry crumble with cream and for afters, cream crackers and cheese -- not just any kind of cheese, brie and stilton and english cheddar and some other soft cheese thing. About 2 hours before starting dinner, we were served wine - which continued all through the meal until dessert, when it suddenly became port.
Well full and more than tipsy (because before the wine and port, they had commemorative Trafalgar beers as well), Jim (the dad here) and Chris (the retired vicar) decided they would introduce me to some classic English songs - like traditional pub type songs. For a little over an hour, Jim pounded away on the piano - all by heart and learned by ear and Father Chris sang with his deep resounding English voice. It was so much fun. I do not think that I have done something that fun and entertaining since I've been here.
Here's the lyrics to one song they were singing. I wish that I would have thought to record it on my camera, but I was enjoying it too much to even think about it.
Harry Clifton, 1832-1872
I am a broken-hearted milkman, in grief I'm arrayed
Through keeping of the company of a young servant maid.
Who lived on board and wages the house to keep clean
In a gentleman's family near Paddington Green.
Chorus:She was as beautiful as a butterfly and proud as a Queen,
Was pretty little Polly Perkins of Paddington Green.
She'd an ankle like an antelope and a step like a deer,
A voice like a blackbird, so mellow and clear,
Her hair hung in ringlets so beautiful and long,
I thought that she loved me but I found I was wrong.
Chorus
When I'd rattle in the morning and cry "Milk below!",
At the sound of my milk cans her face she did show,
With a smile upon her countenance and a laugh in her eye.
If I'd thought that she loved me I'd have laid down to die.
Chorus:
When I asked her to marry me she said 'Oh what stuff',
And told me to drop it, for she'd had quite enough.
Of my nonsense -- At the same time, I'd been very kind,
But to marry a milkman she didn't feel inclined.
Chorus:
"The man that has me must have silver and gold,
A chariot to ride in and be handsome and bold.
His hair must be curly as any watch-spring,
And his whiskers as big as a brush for clothing."
Chorus:
The words that she uttered went straight through my heart
I sobbed and I sighed, and I straight did depart.
With a tear on my eyelid as big as a bean
I bid farewell to Polly and to Paddington Green.
Chorus:
In six months she married, this hard-hearted girl,
But it was not a Wi-count, and it was not an earl,
It was not a 'Baronite', but a shade or two wuss,
It was a bow-legged conductor of a tupenny bus.
horus:
posted by Shelley @ 8:55 PM
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