> A.L. Lloyd > Songs > Jack Orion
> Martin Carthy > Songs > Jack Orion

Glasgerion / Glenkindie / Jack Orion

[ Roud 145 ; Child 67 ; Ballad Index C067 ; DT GLENKIND , GLENKIN2 ; Mudcat 18386 , 25275 ; trad.]

James Kinsley: The Oxford Book of Ballads

A.L. Lloyd sang Jack Orion, accompanied on fiddle by Dave Swarbrick, on his 1966 LP First Person. This recording was included in 1994 on the Fellside anthology CD Classic A.L. Lloyd, in 1996 on Topic’s extended CD reissue of English & Scottish Folk Ballads, and in 2003 on the Dave Swarbrick anthology Swarb!. Lloyd noted on the original album:

In the roll call of famous musicians the sonorous name of the Bardd Glas Geraint—Geraint, the Blue Bard—occurs. He was a ninth century Welsh harper of such legendary eminence that when Chaucer wrote his House of Fame he set “the Bret Clascurion” up in the minstrels’ gallery alongside Orpheus and similar well known string-pickers. That was in the 1380s, some five hundred years after the harper’s time, but his fame endured for much longer in the English folk ballad named Glasgerion, that by chance came to be called Glenkindie when it spread to Scotland. The ballad of Glasgerion dropped out of tradition long ago, but the story it tells is an engaging one (a modern and more democratic parallel is the well-liked Do Me Ama) and it seemed to me too good a song to be shut away in books, so I took it out and dusted it off a bit and set a tune to it and, I hope, started it on a new lease of life. Farm boys, tailors’ apprentices, stable-grooms and other tricksters who overhear assignations and forestall the lover are standard stuff in folklore, but they don’t usually come to such an unjustly sticky end as opportunistic Tom, the apprentice minstrel of our ballad. The fiddler Dave Swarbrick likes this one: does he see himself as Jack or Tom?

Malcolm Douglas noted in the Mudcafé thread Lyr Req: Jack Orion / O’Rion / Glasgerion in 2001:

Lloyd didn’t say where he got the tune that he set Jack Orion to, but it bears an uncanny resemblance to Donald Where’s Your Trousers. Whether this was an inscrutable joke on his part, or whether both melodies were based on the same original (something not unlike Johnny Cope, perhaps) I really don’t know.

Bert Jansch sang Jack Orion as the title track of his Transatlantic album of 1966, Jack Orion, and he sang Jack Orion in 1970 on Pentangle’s Transatlantic album Cruel Sister. Both used Lloyd’s tune, but slowed it down a great deal.

Martin Carthy sang Jack Orion on his 1968 album with Dave Swarbrick, But Two Came By, and it was included in 1971 on his compilation album This Is... Martin Carthy and in 2001 on the definitive Martin Carthy anthology, The Carthy Chronicles. He noted on his original album:

A.L. Lloyd has done exceptional work in many fields, especially, to my mind, in knocking into singable shape songs that were lost in tradition, but have attractive and not to say very powerful story lines: Jack Orion is such a one. It is a reworking of the ballad Glasgerion or Glenkindie, and has a story not unlike the sea song Domeama, but more detailed and with an exceedingly violent end. The song in its traditional form was, according to evidence at our disposal, not very widespread, which serves to highlight one of the curious features of the folk revival, that is, the many songs which were not at all common in tradition are very commonly sung in the revival and vice versa.

Sandra Kerr sang Jack Orion in 1969 on John Faulkner’s and her Argo record John & Sandra. They noted:

A legend concerning Geraint, a famous harper of the 9^th Century, tells of how, having made a tryst with a noble lady, he was charmed to sleep by the harping of his young servant, who then kept the appointment in his master’s stead. It is known that the harpers of this period wore blue robes, and thus ‘glas’ meaning blue, coupled with ‘Geraint’ leads eventually to the ‘Briton Glaskyrion’, who is honourably mentioned as a harper in Chaucer’s poem House of Fame. The story travelled to Scotland, probably in the 16^th Century, and became the ballad Glenkindie.

But it is as a result of the work of A.L. Lloyd that the ballad Jack Orion is being sung in the folk song revival today, for the text is his own adaption from traditional versions, to which he has set a driving pentatonic tune. The result is an exciting challenge for both singer and instrumentalist.

Trees sang Glasgerion in 1970 on their CBS album The Garden of Jane Delawney.

Hedgehog Pie sang Jack Orion in 1974 on their eponymous Rubber album Hedgehog Pie.

Fairport Convention sang Jack Orion in 1978 on their Vertigo album Tipplers Tales. A live recording from Home Farm, Cropredy, on 13 August 1983 was released a year later on their Woodworm cassette The Boot.

Ewan MacColl sang Glenkindie in 1982 on his and Peggy Seeger’s album Blood & Roses Volume 3. He noted:

Our version of this excellent story, and indeed all the other Scots sets of the ballad that we know of, is derived from Glasgerion, which Percy included in his Reliques (1765). In The House of Fame, Chaucer has “the gret Glascurion seated along with Orpheus, Orion, Chiron and other harpers many oon”. A more direct descent may be from the Welsh bard Glas Keraint, an eminent poet who was the son of Owain, Prince of Glamorgan.

Nancy Kerr and James Fagan sang Jack Orion on their 1997 album Starry Gazy Pie. They noted:

A.L. Lloyd’s re-working of Glasgerion (Child 67). An illustration of inter-class conflict in sexual and musical terms. Tragically the better fiddle player meets a violent end after his master’s mistress, whom he seduces, spots his mucky attire and gets suspicious.

Barry Lister sang Jack Orion in 2006 on his WildGoose album Ghosts & Greasepaint.

Danny Spooner sang Jack Orion live in June 2007 in concerts with the Australian Chamber Orchestra. A recording of these concerts was released in 2017 on his download album Enchanted: Live in Concert.

Paul Davenport sang Glasgerion in 2011 on his and Liz Davenport’s Hallamshire Traditions CD Spring Tide Rising. They noted:

This is a ballad which is based on the archaic and repellent notion that once a woman has lost her virginity she is somewhat ‘soiled’. The story is very old and is believed to be from a Welsh original, hence the protagonists name which translates as ‘Geriant the Blue Bard’ or in Welsh, ‘Bard Glas Geraint’. The notion of musical ability as being somehow ‘magical’ is at the core of this story of betrayal and suicide. This is basically Child’s A text with the stanzas re-arranged to fit Child’s initial verse. The tune is by Paul.

Jon Boden sang Jack Orion as the 18 March 2011 entry of his project A Folk Song a Day. He noted in his blog:

Learnt from Bert Lloyd but the best version I’ve heard is Swarb and Carthy on The Carthy Chronicles. Mighty stuff.

Fay Hield learned Jack Orion, “a dramatic romp around the countryside”, from A.L. Lloyd’s album too and sang it in 2016 on her CD Old Adam.

Lyrics

A.L. Lloyd sings Jack Orion

Jack Orion was as good fiddler
As ever fiddled on a string,
And he could drive young women mad
With the tune his wires would sing.

He could fiddle the fish out of salt water
Or water from a marble stone,
Or the milk out of a maiden’s breast
Though baby she had none.

So he sat and played in the castle hall
And fiddled them all so sound asleep,
Except it was for the young countess,
And for love she stayed awake.

And first he played a slow, slow air
And then he played it brisk and gay,
And, “O dear love,” behind her hand
This lady she did say.

“Ere the day has dawned and the cocks have crown
And flapped their wings so wide,
It’s you may come up to my bedroom door
And stretch out at my side.”

So he lapped his fiddle in a cloth of green
And he stole out on his tip toe,
And he’s off back to his young boy Tom
As fast as he could go.

“Ere the day has dawned and the cocks have crown
And flapped their wings so wide,
I’m bid to go to that lady’s door
And stretch out at her side.”

“Well lie down, rest you, my good master,
Here’s a blanket to your hand.
And I’ll waken you in as good a time
As any cock in the land.”

And Tom took the fiddle into his hand,
Fiddled and he sang for a full hour,
Till he played his master fast asleep
And he’s off to that lady’s bower.

And when he come to the countess’ door
He twirled so softly at the pin,
And the lady true to her promise
Rose up and let him in.

Well he didn’t take that lady gay
To bolster or to bed,
But down upon her bedroom floor
Right soon he had her laid.

And he neither kissed her when he came
Nor yet when from her he did go,
But in and out of her bower window
The moon like a coal did glow.

“Oh ragged are your stockings, love,
And stubble is your cheek and chin,
And tangled is that yellow hair
That I saw late yestre’en.”

“My stockings belong to my boy Tom
And they were the first come to my hand,
And I tangled all my yellow hair
When coming against the wind”

He took his fiddle into his hand,
So saucy there he sang,
And he’s off back to his own master
As fast as could run.

“Well up, well, my master dear,
For while you sleep and snore so loud
There’s not a cock in all this land
But has flapped his wings and crowed.”

Jack Orion took the fiddle into his hand
And he fiddled and he played so merrily,
And he’s off away to the lady’s house
As fast as go could he.

Well, when he come to the lady’s door
The fiddler twirled upon the pins,
Saying softly, “Here’s your own true love,
Rise up and let me in.”

She says,“Surely you didn’t leave behind
A bracelet or a velvet glove,
Or are you returned back again
To taste more of me love?”

Jack Orion swore a bloody oath,
“By oak and ash and bitter thorn,
Lady, I never was in your room
Since the day that I was born.”

“Oh then it was your little foot page
That falsely has beguiled me,
And woe that the blood of that ruffian boy
Should spring in my body.”

And home then went Jack Orion, crying,
“Tom, my lad, come here to me!”
And he hanged that boy from his own gatepost
High as the willow tree.

Martin Carthy sings Jack Orion

Jack Orion was as good fiddler
As ever fiddled on a string,
And he could drive young women mad
By the tune his wires would sing.

But he would fiddle the fish out of salt water,
Water from bare marble stone,
Or the milk from out of a maiden’s breast
Though baby she had none.

And there he played in the castle hall
And there he played them fast asleep,
Except it was for the young countess,
And for love she stayed awake.

And first he played there a slow, slow air
And then he played it brisk and gay,
And it’s, “O dear love,” behind her hand
The lady she did say.

“Ere the day has dawned and the cocks have crown
And flapped their wings so wide,
It’s you must come up to my chamber there
And lie down by my side.”

So he lapped his fiddle in a cloth of green
And he stole out on his tip toe,
And he’s off back to his young boy Tom
As fast as he could go.

“Ere the day has dawned and the cocks have crown
And flapped their wings so wide,
I’m bid to go up to that lady’s door
And stretch out by her side.”

“Lie down, lie down, me good master
And here’s a blanket to your hand.
And I’ll waken you in as good a time
As any cock in the land.”

So Tom took the fiddle into his hand
And he fiddled and he sang for a full hour,
Until he played him fast asleep
And he’s off to the lady’s bower.

And when he come to the countess’ door
He twirled so softly at the pin,
And the lady true to her promise
Rose up and let him in.

Well he did not take that lady gay
To bolster nor to bed,
But down upon the hard cold bedroom floor
Right soon he had her laid.

And neither did he kiss her when he came
Nor when from her he did go,
But in at the lady’s bedroom window
The moon like a coal did glow.

“Oh ragged are your stockings, love,
And stubbly is your cheek and chin,
And tousled is that yellow hair
That I saw late yestre’en.”

“My stockings belong to my boy Tom
But they were the first came to my hand,
And the wind did tousle my yellow hair
As I rode over the land.”

Tom took the fiddle into his hand
And he fiddled and he played so saucily,
And he’s off back to his master’s house
As fast as go could he.

“Then up, then up, my good master,
Why snore you there so loud?
For there is not a cock in all this land
But has clapped his wings and crowed.”

Jack Orion took the fiddle into his hand
And he fiddled and he played so merrily,
And he’s off away to the lady’s house
As fast as go could he.

And when he come to the lady’s door
He twirled so softly at the ring,
Saying, “Oh me dear it’s your true love,
Rise up and let me in.”

She said “Surely you didn’t leave behind
A golden brooch nor a velvet glove,
Or are you returned back again
To taste more of me love?”

Jack Orion he swore a bloody oath,
“By oak, by ash, by bitter thorn,
Lady, I never was in this room
Since the day that I was born.”

“Oh then it was your own boy Tom
That cruelly has beguiled me,
And woe that the blood of that ruffian boy
Should spring in my body.”

Jack Orion took off to his own house saying,
“Tom, my boy, come here to me!”
And he hanged that boy from his own gatepost
As high as the willow tree.

Pentangle sing Jack Orion

Jack Orion was as good a fiddler
As ever fiddled on a string,
He could make young women mad
To the tune his fiddle would sing.

He could fiddle the fish out of salt water
Or water from a marble stone,
Or milk out of a maiden’s breast
Though baby she’d got none.

He’s taken his fiddle into his hand,
He’s fiddled and he’s sung,
And oft he’s fiddled unto the King
Who never thought it long.

As he sat fiddling in the castle hall,
He’s played them all so sound asleep.
All but for the young princess
And for love she stayed awake.

At first he played a slow grave tune
And then a gay one flew,
And many’s the sigh and loving word
That passed between the two.

“Come to my bower, sweet Jack Orion
When all men are at rest.
As I am a lady true to my word
Thou shalt be a welcome guest.”

He’s lapped his fiddle in a cloth of green,
A glad man, Lord, was he.
Then he’s run off to his own house,
Says, “Tom come hither unto me.

“When day has dawned and the cocks have crown
And flapped their wings so wide
I am bidden to that lady’s door
To stretch out by her side.”

“Lie down in your bed, dear master
And sleep as long as you may,
I’ll keep good watch and awaken you
Three hours before ’tis day.”

But he rose up that worthless lad,
His master’s clothes did don.
A collar he’s cast about his neck,
He seemed the gentleman.

Well he didn’t take that lady gay
To bolster nor to bed,
But down upon the bower floor
He quickly had her laid.

And he neither kissed her when he came
Nor when from her he did go,
And in and out ofher window
The moon like a coal did glow.

“Ragged are your stockings love,
Stubbley is your cheek and chin.
And tangled is that yellow hair
That I saw yester ’een.”

The stockings belong to my boy Tom,
They’re the first come to my hand.
The wind it tangled my yellow hair
As I rode o’er the land.”

Tom took his fiddle into his hand,
So saucy there he sang,
Then he’s off back to his master’s house
As fast as he could run.

“Wake up, wake up my good master,
I fear ’tis almost dawn.
Wake up, wake up the cock has crowed,
’Tis time that you were gone.”

Then quickly rose up Jack Orion,
Put on his cloak and shoon,
And cast a collar about his neck,
He was a lord’s true son.

And when he came to the lady’s bower
He lightly rattled the pin.
The lady was true to her word,
She rose and let him in.

“Oh whether have you left with me
Your bracelet or your glove?
Or are you returned back again
To know more of my love?”

Jack Orion swore a bloody oath
By oak and ash and bitter thorn,
Saying, “Lady I never was in your house
Since the day that I was born.”

“Oh then it was your young footpage
That has so cruelly beguiled me.
And woe that the blood of the ruffian lad
Should spring in my body.”

Then she pulledforth a little sharp knife
That hung down at her knee.

O’er her white feet the red blood ran
Or ever a hand could stay,
And dead she lay on her bower floor
At the dawning of the day.

Jack Orion ran to his own house,
Saying, “Tom my boy come here to me,
Come hither now and I ’ll pay your fee
And well paid you shall be!

“If I had killed a man tonight,
Tom I would tell it thee,
But if I have taken no life tonight
Tom thou hast taken three.”

Then he pulled out his bright brown sword
And dried it on his sleeve
And he smote off that vile lad’s head
And asked for no man’s leave.

He set the sword’s point to his breast,
The pommel to a stone.
Through thefalseness of that lying lad
These three lives were all gone.

Ewan MacColl sings Glenkindie

Glenkindie was a harper guid
He harpit tae the king,
Glenkindie was the best harper
That ever harped on a string.

He could harpit a fish oot o’ saut water
Or water oot o’ a stane;
He could harpit the milk fae a maiden’s breist
Wha ne’er gied souk tae wean.

He’s harpit in the King’s castle,
He’s harpit them a’ asleep;
A’ but the bonnie young countess
Wha love did wauken keep.

First he harpit a dowie air
And syne he harpit a gay;
And mony a sigh between the hands
I wat the lady gie.

“When day is dawen and cocks are crawin’
And wappit their wings sae wide;
It’s ye may come unto my bower
And lie doon by my side.

“But mind that ye tell na Jock, your man,
Whatever that ye dae:
For if an ye tell Jock, your man,
He’ll beguile baith you and me.”

He’s ta’en his harp intil his hand,
He harpit and he sang;
And he is hame tae Jock, his man,
As fast as he can gang.

“I think that I could tell ye, Jock,
Gin I a man had slain.”
“Ay, that ye micht, my maister dear,
Although ye had slain ten.”

“When day is dawen and cocks hae crawn,
And wappit their wings sae wide,
I’m bidden to yon lady’s bower
Tae lie doon by her side.

“Then harken weel noo, Jock my man,
And tak’ tent whit I say:
Gin ye dinna wauken me in time,
High hangit ye shall be.”

“Than gang tae your bed, my maister dear,
I fear ye’ve waked ower lang,
I’ll wauken ye in as guid time
As ony cock in the land.”

Jock’s ta’en his harp intil his hand
He harpit and he sang;
Until Glenkindie laid him doon
And fast asleep did gang.

Then he has gane tae the lady’s bower
As fast as he could rin;
And when he ca’ tae the bower door,
He tirled at the pin.

“O, wha is this,“ the lady cried,
“That tirls at the pin?”
“Wha but Glenkindie, your ain true love?
O, rise and let me in.”

She kent he was nae gentle knicht
That she had letten in;
For neither when he came or went
Kissed he her cheek nor chin.

He neither kissed her when he cam’
Nor clappit her when he gaed;
And in and at her bower window
The moon shone like a gleid.

“O, ragged is your hose, Glenkindie,
Riven are your sheen;
A’ raivelled is your yellow hair
That I saw late yestreen.”

“The stockings they are Jock, my man’s,
Cam’ first intae my hand;
The sheen as well belong tae him,
At my bed-foot they stand;
And I raivelled a’ my yellow hair
Wi’ rinnin’ against the wind.”

He’s ta’en his harp intil his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
And he’s awa’ tae his maister dear,
As fast as he could gang.

“C’wa, c’wa. my maister dear,
I fear ye sleep ower lang.
There’s no’ a cock in a’ the land
But has wappit his wings and crawn.”

Glenkindie’s ta’en his harp in hand,
He harpit and he sang;
And when he cam’ to the lady’s bower
He chappit wi’ his hand.

He chappit at the lady’s bower
And tirled at the pin;
“Rise up, rise up, my bonnie may,
O rise, and let me in!”

“O, hae ye left behind wi’ me
Your hat or else your glove?
Or are ye come to me again
To ken mair o’ my love?”

Glenkindie swore a muckle oath,
“By airn, by oak, by thorn,
I was never in your chamber, lass,
Frae the day that I was born.”

“Then God forbid,” the lady cried,
“Sic shame should e’er betide,
That I should first be a wild loon’s thing
And then a young knicht’s bride.”

Then she has ta’en her wee penknife
That hung doon by her gair,
“My body’s kent a man this nicht
But it shall ken nae mair.”

Glenkindie’s rode up yon high hill
As fast as he could gae,
“C’wa, c’wa, noo, Jock, my man,
And I will pay your fee.”

Then he has ta’en him, Jock his man,
And hangit him fu’ high;
He’s hangit him ower his ain yett
As high as high could be.

He’s ta’en his harp intil his hand
Saw sweetly as it rang;
But wae and weary was to hear
Glenkindie’s dowie sang.

His lady she was cauld and deid
And didna hear his mane;
And gin he harps till aoomisday,
She’ll never hear him again.

Fay Hield sings Jack Orion

Jack Orion was as good fiddler
As ever fiddled on a string,
And he could drive the women wild
At the noise his wires would ring.

He’d fiddle the fish out from the sea
Or water from a marble stone,
Milk out of a maiden’s breast
Though baby she had none.

There he played in the castle hall,
And there he played them fast asleep,
Excepting for the young countess,
For love she stayed awake.

”When the day has dawned and the cocks have crowed
And flapped their wings so wide,
It’s you may come up to my chamber door
And lie down by my side.”

So he’s wrapped his fiddle in a cloth of green
And stolen out on his tip toe,
He’s off back to his own man Tom
As fast as he could go.

“When the day has dawned and the cocks have crowed
And flapped their wings so wide
I’m bid to go to my lady’s door
And lie down by her side.”

“Lie down, lie down my good master,
Here’s a blanket to your hand.
And I’ll waken you in as good a time
As any cock in the land.”

Tom took the fiddle into his hand
And he fiddled and he sang for a full half hour,
Played his master fast asleep
And he’s off to his lady’s bower.

And when he come to the countess’ door
He twirled so softly at the pin,
And the lady true unto her word
Rose up and let him in.

Didn’t he take our lady gay
To bolster or to bed,
But down upon the cold hard floor,
Right soon he’s had her laid.

“Oh ragged are your stockings, love,
Stubbly is your cheek and chin,
And tousled is your yellow hair
I saw late yestreen.”

“Oh, my stockings belong to my boy Tom,
They were the first came to my hand,
And the wind did tousle my yellow hair
As I rode over the land.”

So Tom took the fiddle into his hand
And he fiddled and he played so saucily,
And he’s off back to his master’s home
As fast as go could he.

“Up, and up, my good master,
Why snore you there so loud?
There’s not a cock in all this land
Has flapped his wings and crowed.”

Jack Orion took the fiddle in his hand
And he fiddled and he sang so merrily,
He’s off unto his lady’s door
As fast as go could he.

When he came to the lady’s door
He twirled so softly at the pin,
Saying, “Oh my dear it’s your true love,
Rise up and let me in.”

“Well did you not now leave behind
A golden watch nor velvet glove?
Are you come now back again
To taste more of my love?”

Jack Orion swore a bloody oath
By oak, and ash, and bitter thorn,
“Lady. I never was in this room
Since the day that I was born.”

“Oh then it was your own boy Tom,
That cruelly has beguiled me.
Woe the blood of that ruffian boy
Should spring in my fair body.”

Jack Orion flew to his home crying,
“Tom, my boy, come here to me.”
He hung that boy from his own gatepost
High as the willow tree.

Acknowledgements

Transcribed by Garry Gillard. Thanks for suggestions to Wolfgang Hell and Susanne Kalweit. There are still a few small guesses and/or assumptions here.