Folkcorn

Ghy sotten

1992, CD, Clipsound CCD 955
  1. Kattendans (1:34) (instr.)
  2. Isabelle, mijn dochterken (2:34)
  3. Den droogen haring (2:01)
  4. Doen Hanselijn over de heyde reed (2:30)
  5. Hennen blijff-t'huys (2:14)
  6. Hout uw canneken vaste (3:09)
  7. Contradans (3:32) (instr.) 07-Contradans (instr.).mp3
  8. Het beste van de wijne (3:29)
  9. Ik zou er van deze avond (2:29)
  10. Stort tranen uyt (1:18)
  11. Bezemdans (1:45) (instr.)
  12. Thyske van der Schilde (3:12)
  13. Te Haerlem in den Houte (2:45) 13-Te Haerlem in den Houte.mp3
  14. Ghy sotten ende sottinnekens (3:48)

(Isabelle, mijn dochterken)

Isabelle, my dear daughter

Isabelle, my dear daughter, where did you learn how to sew?
In Gent, at my stepmother's house, oh woe is me.

Isabelle, my dear daughter, what did you eat there?
A fish with yellow stripes*, oh woe is me.

Isabelle, my dear daughter, where did they catch the fish?
In a cellar with a pair of tongs, oh woe is me.

Isabelle, my dear daughter, where did they throw the cooking water?
Into the street for the dogs, and they died on the spot, oh woe is me.

Isabelle, my dear daughter, what would you wish for yourself?
A spade to dig my grave, oh woe is me.

Isabelle, my dear daughter, what would you wish for your stepmother?
An oven for her to burn in, oh woe is me.

Isabelle, my dear daughter, what would you wish for your (step)brother?
A wife just like his mother, oh woe is me.

* Probably a poisonous toad


(Den droogen haring)

The song of the dried herring*

We want to sing the praises of the dried herring.
We'll jump high** in honour of his little head.
It's about his head, just jump up high, it's about the dried herring.

We want to sing the praises of the dried herring.
We'll jump high in honour of his little eye.
It's about his eye, just jump up high, it's about the dried herring.

We want to sing the praises of the dried herring.
We'll jump high in honour of his little belly.
It's about his belly, just jump up high, it's about the dried herring.

We want to sing the praises of the dried herring.
We'll jump high in honour of his little back.
It's about his back, just jump up high, it's about the dried herring.

* There were lots of herring in the North Sea in the past, a valuable source of food for the common people. Once caught, the fish were hung in the open air to dry in order to preserve them.
** jump high = dance


(Doen Hanselijn over de heyde reed)

As Hanselijn rode over the heathland

As Hanselijn rode over the heathland
He was soon captured
And led into a tower
Where he was chained up.

A young girl heard of this,
A maid of seventeen years.
She first approached her mother
And then went to stand before her father.

"Oh father!" she cried, "father of mine,
Oh, most merciful lord
Please give to me the man who has been captured
For the honour of the pious foot soldier"

"You shall not have this prisoner
For he must die.
Her has been judged by seven lords
in far-off lands."

The girl ordered two white loaves to be baked
With two sharp files in the loaves.
She threw them - oh so high - into the tower
Saying: "Hey, foot soldier, free yourself with the files".

He filed away for many a night and day,
For many a bold hour,
Until the tower was unlocked -
Never was a foot soldier seen weeping there.

She dressed him in a pair of boots
With two sharp spurs;
She sat him upon her father's grey horse, saying:
"Foot soldier, do not lose heart".

When he had gone half his journey
He looked back many a time.
He thought again of the tall tower
But even more of the young girl.

"Henceforth I shall love all maidens
All because of that one girl.
For she has saved my life.
If only I could be her servant!"


(Hennen blyff-t'huys)

Stay-at-home Hennen

Woe is me! I have a wife - now hear my lament:
She wears the trousers*, with violence she defends her territory.
She talks, she chatters, she gives me a pain in the head,
And I have to rock the cradle - fa la la - singing the baby to sleep.

She goes off to the tavern with all kinds of riff-raff,
Leaving me at home without spark or fire in the hearth, without bread or beer.
She drinks and pours the Spanish wine paid for with our money
And I have to sing - fa la la - to get the baby to sleep.

* wears the trousers = is the boss in the house


(Hout u canneken vaste)

Hold tight onto your jug

Once a girl went out for wine - keep your little jug safe -
By night in the moonlight, by night, by night.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.

And what did she find on the road? - keep your little jug safe -
A fine journeyman, true enough, by night, by night.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.

The rider asked the girl - keep your little jug safe -
If she would fulfil his desires, by night, by night.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.

And though the young girl was unwilling - keep your little jug safe -
He forced her down into the green grass, by night, by night.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.

After he had had his way - keep your little jug safe -
My love you may go back home, by night,by night.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.

The man who first sang this song for us - keep your little jug safe -
His bells they made no sound at night, by night, by night.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.
Hold tight onto your jug, Dianneken, hold tight onto your jug.


(Het beste van de wijne)

The best wine

The best wine belongs in my mouth.
Even if I lay sick in bed, I would become well again.
Even if I lay sick in bed, tormented by many agonies,
The wine would cure the pain - oh wine! welcome, wine!

It is right that wine should be praised: it is worthy of honour.
And beautiful women too - those we also like.
I have more to do than to deal with this mere small glass,
So I would like to praise them - oh wine! welcome, wine!

The wine comes from afar, borne over many a mile
On wagons and carts right into our towns.
It comes from the land of Cologne across the Rhine,
Carried in full barrels - oh wine! welcome, wine!

When it is red and clear, then it is to our taste,
And it caresses the tongue, unimaginably good.
Oh! When friends drink together
And you hear the clink of glasses - oh wine! welcome, wine!

My friends, have no worries even if our money runs out.
The inkeeper told me he'll put it on the slate* .
We'll ask him to pour the wine and we'll be merry.
Let's stay the whole evening - oh wine! welcome, wine!

* To "put something on the slate" means allowing the buyer to pay at a later date.


(Ik zou er van deze avond)

Last night I would…

Last I would go out courting.
I made love the whole night through
Until the beautiful dawn broke.

My mother started to scold me for coming home so late.
I said: "Oh, mother, please don't scold,
It does me such dishonour".

"Why should I not scold you? I think it's high time I did!
I think you are carrying a little one, yes - a child.
You have lost your honour!"

"How could I be carrying a child, I a pretty girl who know no man?
It's not caused by the cool breeze blowing from the northeast,
That's not the cause!"

"Not the cool breeze blowing from the northeast -
That's not the cause. It comes from all that dancing and jumping about,
Through the streets late in the evening.
That's where it comes from!"

"Even if the lads dance their shoes off,
They'll get new ones.
But if a young maiden loses her honour,
Her honour - yes, her honour -
She'll never get it back again."


(Stort tranen uyt)

Let your tears flow

Let your tears flow, cry out loudly, weep and mourn!
I think my heart is bursting, tearing asunder.
Oh day, oh day! Oh dark sad day!
What a weeping and a wailing everywhere.

Oh Netherlands, your sovereign, your so pious prince,
The flower of the tree of Orange,
He whose virtue from the Spanish brigand
Did protect you: alas, he now lies dead.


(Thijske van der Schilde)

Thijske van der Schilde

There is peace, wondrous peace, all over Low Germany*
Without Thijske van den Schilde, who lies imprisoned in Delder.
He lies in prison, suffering greatly.

The wife of Van den Schilde could not believe it.
She had her horse saddled and bridled.
She rode to the castle in Delder.

Thijske van den Schelde ceased weeping.
He put his head out of the high tower,
Showed her his proud young body.

"Thijske van den Schilde, you would not believe me
That you should leave off your thieving by day and by night.
That you should stop your robbing in the middle of the night."

"Yes, my Lady van den Schilde, you are to blame for this,
Because you wanted to wear that silver and yellow** gold,
Because you wanted to wear that yellow beaten gold.

"Oh, Thijske van den Schilde, if only you had kept silent,
I would have bought your freedom with silver and the yellow gold.
But now it will cost you your proud young body."

* The Dutch says "duitsche landen" = German(ic) countries
** The Dutch says "roden gulden" = "red gold"


(Te Haerlem in den Houte)

In Haarlem in the Forest

In Haarlem in the Forest
- the miller goes round and round
There lived a bold young maiden
- round and round and round and round
the miller goes round and round

A certain boy heard about her
- the miller goes round and round
And wanted to sleep with the girl
- round and round and round and round
the miller goes round and round

"If my mother were to hear about it"
- the miller goes round and round
"She would shut me up in a chest"
- round and round and round and round
the miller goes round and round

"They will pour out wine for your mother"
- the miller goes round and round
"And she will be satisfied"
- round and round and round and round
the miller goes round and round.


(Ghy sotten ende sottinnekens)

You fools of men and women*

You fools of men and women, and likewise you neat maidens,
although you are fools, you only hear what you want to hear.
Nothing can hold you back when the gossip,
spread around by your tongues, is so enjoyed by the strange ones
who are pleased to dance with us in joyous rapture. But, my dear fellows, you must avoid getting too close to the beans when they are in flower.

Aechten and Nelleken, wearing fine leather coats,
are off to the church where there is a fair,
and they make up to the strange ones; Hanneken and Lijsken
chirp like sparrows, walking along with a Palm Sunday sprig in their hands, faking innocence, playing a cunning little melody
and getting too close to the beans when they are in flower.

Many a rejected lover walks around with a brave face,
wearing a silver dagger with a beautiful hilt
and a fine fur collar, then he marries a sow
or a trollop - so great is his desire to belong to the ranks of the married.
And thus we can find many a fool, even though people cry "Shame!",
for they get too close to the beans when they are in flower.

*This is a song - pretty artful for the period and in very ancient Dutch - that resembles the later Rederijker style. It is a criticism of the way some men and women present themselves to others. The foolishness of such behaviour is ascribed to the effect that flowering beanstalks were believed to have - making people lose their senses. There are even modern proverbs that refer to such a belief, e.g. "In de bonen zijn" = (literally) to be in the beans and (figuratively) to be out of your mind, on a 'high'.
The song has a very distinctive rhythm, with the lyrics in the three verses having different groups of rhyming words.
All very clever -but a little forced!