Oak and ash and thorn lyrics

Lyrics for Oak, Ash and Thorn by The Unthanks

Of all the trees that grow so fair, Old England to adorn, Greater are none beneath the Sun,

Than Oak and Ash and Thorn. Sing Oak and Ash and Thorn, good Sirs (All of a Midsummer′s morn)! Surely we sing of no little thing, In Oak and Ash and Thorn! Oak of the Clay lived many a day, Or ever Aeneas began; Ash of the Loam was a lady at home, When Brut was an outlaw man; Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town (From which was London born); Witness hereby the ancientry Of Oak and Ash and Thorn! Yew that is old in churchyard mould, He breedeth a mighty bow; Alder for shoes do wise men choose, And beech for cups also. But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled, Your shoes are clean outworn, Back ye must speed for all that ye need, To Oak and Ash and Thorn! Elm she hates mankind, and waits Till every gust be laid, To drop a limb on the head of him That anyway trusts her shade: But whether a lad be sober or sad, Or mellow with ale from the horn, He'll take no wrong when he lieth along ′Neath Oak and Ash and Thorn! Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight, Or he would call it a sin; But—we have been out in the woods all night, A-conjuring Summer in! And we bring you news by word of mouth— Good news for cattle and corn— Now is the Sun come up from the South, With Oak and Ash and Thorn! Sing Oak and Ash and Thorn, good Sirs (All of a Midsummer's morn)! England shall bide till Judgement Tide, By Oak and Ash and Thorn!

Writer(s): Rudyard Kipling, Peter Bellamy

lyrics © 1995 by Catherine Faber
To the Peter Bellamy tune for"A Tree Song" (aka "Oak and Ash and Thorn" the lyrics of which were written by Rudyard Kipling.)

Some time between the year fourteen-ought-five and -fifty-one
There was a strange and radical change in spoken english done.
These letters all but past recall should not be held in scorn;
The rose in May must go the way of yogh and ash and thorn.

Yogh and ash and thorn good sirs, mouldering vellum adorn;
Here do we see mortality in yogh and ash and thorn.

Yogh to me resembles a three a little bit flattened above
And sound denotes so low in the throat as only the Dutch could love
Yet now is found both letter and sound discarded and forlorn;
Remember you are mortal too, like yogh and ash and thorn.

A "b" with a tail, thorn didn't prevail, but though it lost the race
It takes a pair of letters to wear the shoes to take its place,
And a and e an ash will be when back to back they are bourne;
Into dark the passing mark of yogh and ash and thorn.

"Vowel shift" said somebody miffed "It's more like a hey or a bransle"*
"Letter and sound keep swapping around and 'hands about go all!'"
Some were stored and some ignored and some were mangled and torn,
Caught up in the rout as vowels fell out with yogh and ash and thorn.

Time must be an enemy that ever ending brings--
Even word-fame cannot be heard when words are mortal things.
Some clever cuss in studying us some distant future morn
Will find us surely strange to her as yogh and ash and thorn.

Rich and strangely words will change in warpage under use
But why in past it happened so fast Gude Godde only knoos.**
We work the sum of what we become from where and how we are born.
And hold these three in memory: yogh and ash and thorn!

This song arose when my husband (then boyfriend) was telling me about the great vowel shift--a linguistic event that apparently seriously changed the pronounciation of the-language-that-became-English over the course of a mere fifty years.

*heys and bransles are types of Medieval and Renaissance dances. "Bransle" is prounounced "brawl," making it ideal for that verse. A rout can be the act of one side running away from a battle--or an archaic word for a party.

** "Gude Godde only knoos" is my approximation of "Good God only knows." in Middle English. Roughly "good (rhymes with "food") Goad-duh oh-nlee knoos (rhymes with goose)"

The URL of this page is http://www.echoschildren.org/NonCDlyrics/Yogh.html
It was created by Cat Faber (cat(at)echoschildren.org). It is maintained by Arlene "Callie" Hills (callie(at)echoschildren.org).

Of all the trees that grow so fair, old England to adorn

Greater are none beneath the sun than Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Yew that is old, in churchyard mould, he breedeth a mighty bow

Alder for shoes do wise men choose, and Beech for cups also

But when you have killed

And your bowl it is filled, and your shoes are clean outworn

Back you must speed for all that you need to Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Elm, she hates mankind and waits, 'til every gust be laid

To drop a limb on the head of him that anyway trusts her shade

But whether a lad be sober or sad, or mellow with ale from the horn

He'll take no wrong when he lyeth along 'neath Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Oh, do not tell the priest our plight

For he would call it a sin

But we've been out in the woods all night, a-conjuring summer in

We bring you good news by word of mouth, good news for cattle and corn

Sure as the sun come up from the south, by Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn

Sing Oak, and Ash, and Thorn, good sirs

All on a midsummer's morn

Surely we'll sing of no little thing

In Oak, and Ash, and Thorn