To Hear the Nightingales Sing

Collected by Bob Copper from George Attrill (right) in Stopham, Sussex in about 1954: see Chapter Eight, pp. 73-82, of Songs and Southern Breezes for the details; and the appendix, pp. 210, for these words. The photo of George Attrill, West Sussex Council roadman, is credited to George Garland of Petworth (West Sussex).

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As I was a-walking one morning in May,
I saw a lovely couple a-wending their way,
And one was a fair maid and a beauty I'll declare,
While the other was a soldier, a bold Grenadier.

And as they was a-walking through the forest, so green,
They sat themselves down, my boys, by a clear crystal stream
They sat themselves down, my boys, by a clear crystal stream
All for to see the flowers blow, hear the nightingales sing.

And the soldier took the fair maid all fast round the middle,
And out of his knapsack he drew a long fiddle,
And he played her such a tune, my boys, made the valleys to ring
Hark, hark, cries the fair maid, how the nightingales sing.

Said the soldier to the fair maid, It is time to give o'er,
Oh, no, said the fair maid, give me just one tune more
For I love your music so beautiful and the touch of your string
And I like it much better when the nightingales sing.

And now, cries the fair maid, why can't you marry me?
Oh no, said the soldier, such a thing cannot be,
For I have got a wife in my own country
As neat a little woman as my eyes ever see.

So I off to the West Indies, to West India I'll steer,
Where they drink wine and water instead of strong beer,
And if ever I should return again it shall be in the spring
All for to see the flowers blow, hear the nightingales sing.

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