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I wish I could help you, but no, I don't have that recording. I'd love to hear it, too. I know there's an album of songs and tunes by Sherman Hammons of Marlinton, West Virginia that was put out by The Field Recorders’ Collective. "FRC 701 - Sherman Hammons (Wayne Howard collection)". There's also an album called "The Hammons Family - A Study of A West Virginia Family's Traditions" with songs by Sherman and other family members. Sadly Old Bangum isn't included on either of those albums. Gilbert Wayne Howard, Alan Jabbour and Carl Fleischhauer, Mike Mirarchi, Dwight Diller and Tom Brown all visited the Hammons family at various points in the early 70s and recorded songs from them. Those recordings are archived at the Archive of Folk Culture, American Folklife Center, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C., but they haven't been digitized for online listening. Dwight Diller recorded a cover of Sherman Hammons' Wild Hog (Bangum) on his 1996 CD "O Death!". Worth a listen, he sings it unaccompanied without any fancy stuff, just like in the old times, you can find the recording online. I suppose it's the next best thing to having the original Hammons performance of the song.

Hello Andy, Sorry to message you twice, but I just thought of something. Did your grandfather also sing that verse: Bangum made him a wooden gun To shoot that wild boar as he run. Can you remember? Because I have not heard that line in any version other than Sherman Hammons'. That stands out. Usually it's only a (wooden) knife he's carrying, the gun is an interesting addition. If you know the full song as your grandfather sang it would you be able to share it with us? It'd be wonderful to have the words and (and if possible also the tune) preserved and we'd be able to compare them to those of other Appalachian versions. Bangum is a fairly rare song, there's probably less than 100 traditional US versions in total if we don't count covers and versions recorded from several singers of the same family.

Sadly I've got nothing on that. I know which song you mean. I never came across a field recording of it. Its closest relative appears to be "The Lover's Ghost" from P. W. Joyce's "Old Irish Folk Music and Songs" (1909). These songs retain most stanzas of The Grey Cock (Child No. 248) but with a dramatic ghost ending that must've been added from a different song. It's a bit of a mystery. "The Night Visiting Song" (Roud No. 22568) "Willie-O/Bay of Biscay-O" (Roud No. 22567) "The Grey Cock" (Child No. 248) "Willie's Fatal Visit" (Child No. 255) They all tend to get mixed up in traditional texts. The bluegrassmessengers website appears to be offline but I saved the transcriptions of Maud Karpeles' Newfoundland versions. A. The Lover's Ghost - Matthew Aylward of Stock Cove, Bonavista Bay, Newfoundland, collected by Karpeles, version A, on Sept. 20, 1929. She said to her mama, she said to her dada, "There’s something the matter with me, There’s something the matter and I don’t know what it is, And I’m weary from lying alone." John he came there at the very hour appointed, He tapped at the window so gay; This fair maid arose and she hurried on her clothes, And let her true love John in. She took him by the hand and on the bed she laid him, Felt he was colder than clay. "If I had my wish and my wish it would be so, This long night would never be morn." "Crow up, crow up, my little bird, And don’t crow before it is day, And your cage shall be made of the glittering gold," she said, "And your doors of the silver so gay." "Where is your soft bed of down, my love, And where is your white Holland sheet, And where is the fair maid that watches on you While you are taking your long silent sleep?" "The sand is my soft bed of down, my love, The sea is my white Holland sheet, And long hungry worms will feed off of me While I’m taking my long silent sleep." "And when will I see you, my love," she cries, "And when will I see you again?" "When the little fishes fly and the seas they do run dry And the hard rocks they melt with the sun." B. The Lover's Ghost - Sung by Mr. James Day at Fortune Harbour, 1st October, 1929; Karpeles B. Johnny is the young man that lately promised he'd marry me, But I am afeard that he is . . . There's something else bewailed him or else he got a charm Or always with some fair one he's gone. But John he come back at the very hour he appointed, Tappen to her window so low. The fair one then arose and hurried on her clothes And welcomed her true love young John. She got him by the hand and 'twas through the room she ledded him, She felt he was colder than clay. She says: My dearest dear, if I only had my wish, This long night would never be day. Where is your soft bed of down, my love, she cries, Or where is your white holland sheet, Or where is the maiden sweet that used to wait on you Every night in your long silent sleep? The sand is my soft bed of down, my love, he cries, And the waves is my white holland sheet, And the rocks and the worms is my jury just [sic] companion, Every night I sleep in the deep. When will I see you again, my love, she cries, Or when will I see you any more? When the little fishes fly and the seas will run dry And the hard rocks will melt with the sun. Additional stanza given 2nd October: The birds they must be false and very false, she cries, They crow two hours too soon; Their combs must be made of the very beads of gold And their wings of the silver so fine. A related text was noted by the Irish song collector Patrick W. Joyce who learnt it as boy in the 1830's in his native village of Glenosheen, Co. Limerick. It was printed in "Old Irish Folk Music and Songs", Dublin, 1909 under the title "The Lover's Ghost: “Oh, you’re welcome home again,” said the young man to his love, “I’ve been waiting for you many a night and day. You are tired, you are pale,” said the young man to his dear, “You shall never again go away.” “I must go away,” she said, “when the little cock will crow, For here they will not let me stay. But if I had my wish, oh, my darling,” she said, “This night should be never, never day.” “Oh my pretty pretty cock, oh my handsome little cock, I pray you will not crow before day; And your comb shall be made of the very beaten gold, And your wings of the silver so grey!” But oh, this pretty cock, this handsome little cock, He crew loufd a full hour too soon: “Oh, my true love,” she said, “It is time for me to part, It is now the going down of the moon!” “And where is your bed, my dearest dear?” he said, “And where are your white holland sheets? And where are the maidens, my dearest love,” he said, “That wait on you while you are asleep?” “The clay is my bed, my dearest dear,” she said, “The shroud is my white holland sheet; The worms and the creeping things are my waiting maids, To wait on me whilst I am asleep.”

For comparison, here are a few traditional texts of The Grey Cock taken from field recordings. Sung by Joe Holmes of Ballymoney, Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland. Recorded by Hugh Shields in 1975: ruclips.net/video/Yz8IlGBSHAE/видео.html It happened for to be on a cold winter's evening A fair maid sat waking alone; She was thinking of her father, likewise her aged mother And also her true lover John. Young Johnny he was sweet and he promised for to meet But he tarried an hour too long; He met with great delay which caused him for to stray And I weary waiting all alone. Young Johnny came at last and he found the door was fast And he slowly, slowly tinkled at the pane; This fair maid she arose and hurried on her clothes In order to let young Johnny in. He took her in his arms and off to bed they went And it's there they lay talking of their plan; 'I wish' this maid said she 'this night would prove to be As long as since the world first began, Fly up, oh fly up, my pretty little cock, And don't crow until it breaks day And your cage it shall become of the very shining gold And your wings of a silvery grey.' But this pretty little cock, so cruel as he was, He crowed out an hour too soon And he sent my love away before the break of day, It being only the light of the moon. This fair maid she arose and quickly followed after Saying 'When will you come to see me?' When the fishes they do fly, the seas they all run dry And seven moons shine brightly o'er yon lea.' There was once I thought my love was as constant unto me As the stones that lie under yon ground, But now since I do find he's altered his mind I would rather live single as be bound. Sung by John McLaverty of Belfast, Northern Ireland. Recorded by Peter Kennedy in 1952: ruclips.net/video/D6gqVu8TH0M/видео.html It was on a moonlight night when the moon was shining bright, A young maid she was sighing all alone, She was sighing for her father, lamenting for her mother, Sheding tears for her true lover John. Now young John has come at last and the door was bolted fast, And softly he tinkled on the ring, And up the maid arose and she bundled on her clothes, And it's all to let her true lover in. Oh, ye birds of early dawn, ye well feathered birds, Do you not crow before it is day, And she thought that it was day and she sent her love away, But it was only the light of the moon. Sung by Robert Cinnamond of Ballinderry, Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland. Recorded by Sean O'Boyle in 1955: "Fly up my cock, You're my well-feathered cock, And don't crow till the break of day. "Your red rosy comb Will it be of the beaten gold And your neck of a silvery grey." Oh my cock flew up And my cock flew down, Abd he then crowed one hour too soon. This young man he arose And hurried on his clothes, But it was only the light of the moon. "When will you be back My dear Jimmy," she said, "For to wed with a gay gold ring?" "Seven moons," said he, "Shining o'er the lea And the skies to yield up no more rain." For now I do see The contrary way, And it's better to live single or be bound. Sung by Maud Long of Hot Springs, North Carolina. Recorded by Prof. Kenneth S. Goldstein in 1956: ruclips.net/video/e7rCnqzL8Os/видео.html All on one summer's evening when the fever were a-dawning I heard a fair maid make a mourn. She was a-weeping for her father and a-greiving for her mother And a-thinking all on her true love John. At last Johnny came and he found the doors all shut And he ding-led so low at the ring Then this fair maid she rose and she hurried on her clothes To make haste to let Johnny come in. All around the waist he caught her and unto the bed he brought her, And they lay there a-talking awhile. She says: O you feathered fowls, you pretty feathered fowls, Don't you crow till 'tis almost day, And your comb it shall be of the pure ivory And your wings of the bright silveree (or silver grey). But him a-being young, he crowed very soon, He crowed two long hours before day; And she sent her love away, for she thought 'twas almost day, And 'twas all by the light of the moon. It's when will you be back, dear Johnny, When will you be back to see me? When the seventh moon is done and passed and shines on yonder lea, And you know that will never be. What a foolish girl was I when I thought he was as true As the rocks that grow to the ground; But since I do find he has altered in his mind, It's better to live single than bound. Sung by Hattie Hicks Presnell of Beech Mountain, North Carolina. Recorded by Sandy Paton 1961c: ruclips.net/video/gWmv5jpXkVI/видео.html The moon it shines bright, and the stars they give light, While this fair miss she worries alone. There's something in the way that is causing him to stay, It's I am worried alone, 'lone, 'lone, It's I am worried alone. Her true love come at last, and he come very fast, Come tripplin' through the plain. This fair miss she rose, and she threw on her clothes, For to let her old true lover in, in, in, For to let her old true lover in. "My pretty little chicken, my pretty crowin' chicken, Say, don't you crow before day. I'll make your wings of a yeller beading gold, And your comb of the silver so gay, gay, gay, And your comb of the silver so gay." This chicken proved false-hearted to her, And crowed one hour too soon. She sent her love away, before it was day, And he traveled by the light of the moon, moon, moon, And he traveled by the light of the moon. She saddled up her milk white horse, And also her dapple grey. She rode through the dark wilderness, At the length of a long summer day, day, day, At the length of a long summer day. "My old true love, my sweet turtledove, Oh, when shall I see you again?" "When the moon and the stars enters in yonders green, And the sky shall shed no more rain, rain, rain, And the sky shall shed no more rain." Sung by Peter Christie of Stonehaven, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Recorded by James Madison Carpenter 1929c-1935c: ruclips.net/video/pwKZDOSAcOE/видео.html "Saa ye my faether? or saa ye my maether? Or saa ye my truelove, John?" "I never saa yer maether, nor yet saa yer faether, But I saa yer truelove, John." "Wis John rinnin? or wis John comin? Or wis John gaein hame?" "John wis rinnin fast, love, an' John'll be here at last." An' he rattled at the gate, love, sae fine, Up the lassie raise, an' she pit on her claes, An' she's clasped him in her airms again, Crying, "O if it were but as lang, fie day As sin eever the warld began! "Ye my bonie cockie, an' O my pretty cockie That cries i' the morning sae shoon, 'O if it were but as lang, fie day As sin eever the warld began!'" He's mounted on his white milk steg, An' he's awa ridin hame; An' what stid up by yon kirk stile But a ghost on the side o the road. "Often ye hae roden this road, Willie, An' over me ye've gane; An' often ye hae trodden this road, Willie, But ye'll never trod them again." She's taen Willie, torn him fae ear tee ear, Cut him fae gair tee gair; In a' the four corners o the churchyaird An' bits o Sweet Willie lie there. This Scottish text appends the last three stanzas from Child 255, Willie's Fatal Visit. It's a curiousity. Another ghost ending, but different from The Lover's Ghost.

I was just thinking of this song today. Then I saw your comment. I love the beautiful tune of Isla's version. Previously I heard Stanley Robertson sing Robert Burns' fragment, "Mirk, Mirk Is the Midnight Hour" to this same tune. The tune is said to be a variant of "The Miller of Dee" although much more graceful sounding than any version of that song I heard. If you want to explore other performances of Child 76, I made a playlist here: ruclips.net/video/cgvzUf8fD3o/видео.html

I'm glad you like it. I think Steeleye based their recording on Caroline Hughes version. The tune is great but the words as she sang them were pretty garbled. Later I came across a more complete version from Bob Lewis, a traditional singer from Sussex: ruclips.net/video/JQl45KxxE2M/видео.html All the tunes I heard for it are really beautiful. Sometimes the song is also known as False/Fair Flora or The Unkind Shepherdess.

They really are. It's one of my favourite ballads. Did you see the playlist I put together? It gives an overview over variants collected from traditional singers: ruclips.net/video/5zhPDUQMGuk/видео.html

Never mind I just read the description of the video lol

It is indeed. You can hear more recordings of Allie Long Parker in the "Max Hunter Folk Song Collection". Just google it, it should be the first result that shows up. Even more recordings are to be found in the "Mary Celestia Parler Ozark Folk Song Collection" of the University of Arkansas. On both websites you can search for "Allie" to find the recordings. That should work.

@@Liederfuchsthank you for the information 🙂✌🏻

That reminds me, I wish we had a recording of Obray Raymsey singing Young Emily. I heard Betty Smith sing it, she said she'd learned it from Obray and they sometimes sung it together, alternating verses. It's a hauntingly beautiful version. Young Emily was a pretty fair miss. She loved a driver boy Who drove the stage from the Golden Gate, Way down in the lowlands low, my love, Way down in the lowlands low. My father owns a boarding house Along yon river side. Go there, go there and enter in, This night with me abide, my love, This night with me abide. I like that song a lot, and Obray was such a good singer. I should try asking around if someone knows if he ever recorded it.

@@Liederfuchs ❤️ I'll have to look for that one. My favorite by Obray is Rain and Snow.

It's a really strange expression. But fittingly nasty as a punishment I guess. The only field recording I heard of this religious ballad by Emily Bishop of Herefordshire, England is missing the serpent verses.

I uploaded Emily Bishop's version of Dives and Lazarus here: ruclips.net/video/FkslcSR7eNA/видео.html Oh, and there's also a fun children's song telling that same biblical story about the rich man and the poor man. It's called "Hi-Ro-Jerum". Here's a great performance of it: ruclips.net/video/EaAoZtrCu3A/видео.html

King Orfeo is a medieval retelling of an ages old story from ancient Greece. The story of Orpheus, a legendary musician who travelled to the underworld to rescue his wife Eurydice. Orpheus went to Hades and he failed to free his wife. Orfeo got a happy ending. He went to the fairy realm and suceeds in rescuing Isabel by charming the fairy king with the beauty of his musical performance. I don't think Isabel was dead, although I could be wrong. I want to think that "corpse" here refers to her being in a state of deep sleep or trance. The fairy king pierces her with a dart and it makes her fall asleep, then he caries her away to the fairy realm. Another great performance of King Orfeo was by Thor and Anne Marie. I have the video on my channel. Quality isn't great, but I love the power of that performance. Worth checking out.

Actually, looking at this text again, maybe she was dead and got revived. It could be a carryover from the Orpheus story where he literally went to the underworld, the realm of the dead, to get his wife back. Interesting, I never thought much of this until you mentioned it. The verses about Isabel being dead are indeed traditional, recited by one Bruce Sutherland in North Yell, Shetland in 1865.

This song was included on her Musical Traditions album. A 3 CD set called "Sarah Makem: As I Roved Out" (MTCD353-5), released in 2011.

I'm not sure if my link goes through, but if it does, here are the Liner Notes which show all the songs included in the set and transcriptions and info on them and a little biography on Sarah Makem too: www.mustrad.org.uk/articles/makem.htm The album is still available, if not on CD directly from Musical Traditions then at least digitally as an MP3 download: rodstrad.gumroad.com/l/TMWK

@Liederfuchs woah, I'd love to hear the rest of the songs! I have a copy of her LP The Ulster Ballad Singer and the CD The Heart Is True, but I haven't seen the 3 CD set pop up anywhere!

As for this particular song, it appears to be quite rare. I found only one other sound recording of it, sung by John McLaverty of Belfast in 1952 for the BBC. You can listen to John's version The Galway Girl here: ruclips.net/video/4LVavXS59EU/видео.html

​@Liederfuchs happy to say that I just purchased the MP3s yesterday!

It’s one of the rare songs where the woman kills the man. Most people never say “coldest song ever” when it’s a man killing a woman.

Thanks foxy Hope your doing well

Foxy where did you get this recording? I'd love to hear the whole thing Thanks as always From The ghost on the shore

Abbot?

You perfectly described why I like field recordings so much. ^-^

@@Liederfuchs 🙌🏻 your channel is an absolute treasure trove! I’m so happy I found it, and very grateful for your effort and enthusiasm. If I could only listen to one RUclips channel this would be it! The most genuine music.

@@vivianfreelandmusic Thank you! ^_^ I started this as an online archive for myself at first to have the ballad recordings and transcriptions easily available from any place with internet access. I never imagined that so many people would find it useful. It makes me very happy.

You're welcome. ^-^ I like Frank Quinn's singing very much. His version of Lord Randal is similarly splendid. His last verse here in How Came the Blood really gets to me. I often think of it when someone mentions this song.