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Come All You Little Streamers / Faithful Emma

[ Roud 18820 ; Master title: Come All You Little Streamers ; Ballad Index CrMa079 ; VWML RoudFS/S141112 ; Mudcat 173795 ; trad.]

Lucy Broadwood: English County Songs

Ashley Hutchings wrote in his 1976 songbook A Little Music about Come All You Little Streamers:

This strange song comes from Ned Spooner of Midhurst, Sussex (although other, similar, versions exist). It was printed in the Journal of the Folk-Song Society, Vol. 4, No. 17, 1913 [VWML RoudFS/S141112] . together with exhaustive notes on its possible origin. In short, it is suggested that there is a religious mystical allegory in its background. I would refer those who would like to know more to the article.

Shirley Collins sang Come All You Little Streamers on her 1974 Topic album, Adieu to Old England. She also sang it with the Etchingham Steam Band. A live recording from the Norwich Folk Festival in 1974 was published in 1995 on the CD The Etchingham Steam Band.

Martyn Wyndham-Read sang Faithful Emma in 1979 on his Broadside album Andy’s Gone and in 1997 on his Fellside album Beneath a Southern Sky where he noted:

A Sussex song from the Lucy Broadwood collection of English County Songs. The thing that intrigues me about this one is that there is no mention of anyone called Emma, though there is a brief appearance of a certain Mary in the last verse. Also, as a native of Sussex, I have up till now been unaware of any mountains there, but the world is ever-changing. Just to confuse us even more, I believe this to be a variant of The Streams of Lovely Nancy. Maybe Nancy was a friend of Emma’s and Mary’s, and lived on a mountain.

Lyrics

Shirley Collins sings Come All You Little Streamers

Oh, come all you little streamers wherever you may be
These are the finest flowers that ever my eyes did see.
Fine flowery hills and fishing dells and hunting also
At the top all of this mountain where fine flowers grow.

At the top all of the mountain where my love’s castle stands
It’s over-decked with ivory to the bottom of the strand.
There’s arches and there’s parches and a diamond stone so bright;
It’s a beacon for a sailor on a dark, stormy night.

At the bottom of this mountain there runs a river clear.
A ship from the Indies did once anchor there,
With her red flags a-flying and the beating of a drum,
Sweet instruments of music and the firing of her gun.

So come all you little streamers that walks the meadows gay
And write unto my own true love wherever he may be
For his sweet lips entice me, but his tongue it tells me “No!”
And an angel might direct us and it’s where shall we go?

From Ashley Hutchings’ songbook A Little Music

Oh, come all you little streamers wherever you may be
These are the finest flowers that ever my eyes did see.
Fine flowery hills and fishing dells and hunting also
At the top of yonder mountain where fine flowers grow.

At the top all of the mountains where my love’s castle stands
It’s over-decked with ivory to the bottom of the strand.
There’s arches and there’s parches and a diamond stone so bright;
It’s a beacon for a sailor on a dark, stormy night.

At the bottom of the mountain there runs a river clear.
A ship from the Indies did once anchor there,
With her red flags a-flying and the beating of a drum
Sweet instruments of music and the firing of her gun.

Martyn Wyndham-Read sings Faithful Emma

The lambs they skip with pleasure, and the meadows are all green.
One of the finest mountains that ever eyes have seen.
There’s fine hunting, fine fishing, and fine fowling also,
On the top of yonder mountain where the finest flowers grow.

On the top of yonder mountain my true love’s castle stands,
It is decked up with ivy from the top down to the strands.
There’s fine arches, fine porches, and there’s diamond stones so bright,
It’s a haven for the sailors on a dark stormy night.

At the ford of yonder mountain runs a river so clear,
And a ship from the West Indies once lay in harbour there;
With a red flag a-flying and the beating of a drum,
Sweet instruments are playing, and the firing of a gun.

If Mary was faithful she might have been a bride,
But her mind was as fickle as the rain on the tide,
Like a ship on the ocean she was tossed to and fro,
May the angels now protect her whersoever she may go!

Acknowledgements

The lyrics were copied from the Ashley Hutchings songbook A Little Music.