Early in Spring- Fred Whiting (Suffolk) 1985 Howson
[My abbreviated title. From the recording VT130CD, Who Owns the Game? ‘Traditional songs and melodeon tunes from Central Suffolk’ --field recordings 1985-87 by John Howson. His notes follow,
R. Matteson 2017]
This song has been known in Britain, U.S.A and Australia under many different titles including 'The Sailor Boy', 'The Sailing Trade', 'The Sailor Boy and his Faithful Mary', 'The Faithful Lovers' and 'Sweet William'. It probably dates from the time of George III, during the wars with France. The song appears in just about every folk-song collection in the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library, and there are numerous recordings of it. Fred told me this: "I learned that one from Ernie Mayes. We were sitting in a meadow one Sunday there, when he came along and he said, 'I'll sing you a song you've never heard before!' and that's the one he sung us. I had a fantastic memory that time of day and I knew it word-for-word as soon as he'd sung it.
Bio: Fred Whiting was born in Kenton near Debenham and lived there for most of his life. 'Pip’, as he was often known left school at thirteen. He told me how he started his working life: "I went with a flock of sheep and worked seven days a week, and the only concession I got was I could knock off at half-past three on a Sunday afternoon. I got seven bob a week and I paid six bob a week board, so I had a shilling a week for myself!"
I first met Fred soon after I moved to Suffolk. I wrote to him, and soon he was telling me about the days when he used to sing in Earl Soham Victoria, Rishangles Swan, Kenton Crown, and Westleton Crown where he would meet up with the local fishermen. We started to pick him up on Saturday nights and he would take us to some of the pubs he had known; in particular I remember the heady nights at Brundish Crown. Fred was not only an excellent singer, he also played fiddle left-handed. He actually had it strung normally, so he played it upside down! During our nights out singing and playing, he would get out his dancing dolls which always pleased the gathering.
Fred was in fact a prolific song collector himself, and over the years he picked up songs wherever he went, including some from New South Wales where he spent a few years in his late ’teens. It was his father who started him off singing: "I'll tell you the first song I ever learned in my life, and I learned it from my father. My mother died when I was about half past five, and my father used to sing a song to get me to sleep, and he'd get me to sing with him. The first song he ever learned me was 'The Sailor Boy'. It’s known all the way up the east coast of England. Well after that, like any kid, I wanted something fresh when I'd learned it, and he got me onto 'To be a farmer's boy', and I believe that was written by an old Suffolk shoemaker. The other song he used to sing was 'What's the life of a man', but I forgot most of that now. That's how I started my career as a singer." (John Howson)
One Fine Morning Early in Spring
It was one fine morn all early in spring,
I went on board to serve my King.
Leaving my dearest girl behind,
She always told me that her heart was mine.
I built my love a little boat,
On the ocean waves that she might float.
And every ship that passed her by,
She made enquire of her sailor boy.
So she set sail across the deep,
For a big King's ship she chanced to meet.
'Come tell me, bold sailor, come tell me true,
Is my boy Bill on board with you?'
'Ah no, fair maid, he is not here,
He's dead and drowned, I do declare.
On yonder waves that roll so high,
There I lost sight of your sailor boy.'
She wrung her wrists and tore her hair,
Like some poor girl in deep despair.
Her little boat on the rocks did run,
Oh, what shall I do now my sailor be gone?'
'I will go home and write a song,
I'll write it clear, I'll write it long.
And every line I'll shed a tear,
And every verse, farewell my dear.'
Three days later this maiden died,
Leaving this song by her bedside.
To tell the world of why she died,
She could not be a sailor's bride.
So dig her grave both wide and deep,
And on it plant the lilies sweet.
And upon her breast put turtle doves,
To tell the world she died for love.