LP - B&C CAS 1035 (UK, 1971) LP - Mooncrest CREST 12 (UK) LP - Shanachie 79046 (US) CD - Shanachie 79046 (US, 1991) CD - Mooncrest CRESTCD 023 (UK,1996)	Maddy Prior & Tim Hart: Summer Solstice 1. False Knight On The Road 2. Bring Us In Good Ale 3. Of All The Birds 4. I Live Not Where I Love 5. The Ploughboy And The Cockney 6. Westron Wynde 7. Sorry The Day I Was Married 8. Dancing At Whitsun 9. Fly Up My Cock 10. Cannily Cannily 11. Adam Catched Eve 12. Three Drunken Maidens 13. Serving Girls Holiday
musicians:	Maddy Prior - vocals Tim Hart - vocals, guitar, dulcimer, harmonium, psalter, tabor Andy Irvine - mandolin John Ryan - string bass Gerry Conway - percussion, bells Pat Donaldson - electric bass Robert Kirby - string arrangement on "Dancing At Whitsun"
other credits:	Produced by Sandy Roberton for September Production Ltd.

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L y r i c s

False Knight On The Road "Oh, what brings you here so late?'' said the knight on the road. "I go to meet my God,'' said the child as he stood. And he stood and he stood, And it's well that he stood. "I go to meet my God,'' said the child as he stood. "Oh, how will you go by land?'' said the knight on the road. "With a strong staff in my hand,'' said the child as he stood. And he stood and he stood, And it's well that he stood. "With a strong staff in my hand,'' said the child as he stood. "Oh, how will you go by sea?'' said the knight on the road. "With a good boat under me,'' said the child as he stood. And he stood and he stood, And it's well that he stood. "With a good boat under me,'' said the child as he stood. "Oh, me thinks I hear a bell.'' said the knight on the road. "It's ringing you to hell,'' said the child as he stood. And he stood and he stood, And it's well that he stood. "It's ringing you to hell,'' said the child as he stood. "Oh, what brings you here so late?'' said the knight on the road. "I go to meet my God,'' said the child as he stood. And he stood and he stood, And it's well that he stood. "I go to meet my God,'' said the child as he stood. Bring Us In Good Ale Bring us in no brown bread, for that is made of bran, Nor bring us in no white bread, for therein is no grain, Chorus: But bring us in good ale, good ale, and bring us in good ale, For our blessed Lady's sake, bring us in good ale. Bring us in no beef, for there are many bones, But bring us in good ale, for that goeth down at once. Chorus Bring us in no mutton, for that is seldom lean, Nor bring us in no tripes, for they are seldom clean. Chorus Bring us in no eggs, for there are many shells, But bring us in good ale, and bring us nothing else. Chorus Bring us in no capon's flesh, for that is often dear, Nor bring us in no duck's flesh, for they slobber in the mire Chorus Westron Wynde Westron wynde, when will thou blow The small rain down can rain Cry said my love were in my arms And I in my bed again Adam Catched Eve Adam catched Eve by the fur below Adam catched Eve by the fur below And that's the oldest catch I know And that's the oldest catch I know And that's the oldest catch I know

Dancing At Whitsun It's fifty long springtimes since she was a bride, But still you may see her at each Whitsuntide In a dress of white linen and ribbons of green, As green as her memories of loving. The feet that were nimble tread carefully now, As gentle a measure as age do allow, Through groves of white blossoms, by fields of young corn, Where once she was pledged to her true-love. The fields they stand empty, the hedges grow free No young men to turn them or pastures go see They are gone where the forests of oak trees before Have gone, to be wasted in battle. Down from the green farmlands and from their loved ones Marched husbands and brothers and fathers and sons. There's a fine roll of honor where the Maypole once stood, And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun. There's a straight row of houses in these latter days All covering the downs where the sheep used to graze. There's a field of red poppies (a gift from the Queen) But the ladies remember at Whitsun, And the ladies go dancing at Whitsun. Three Drunken Maidens There were three drunken maidens Came from the Isle of Wight They drunk from Monday morning Nor stopped till Saturday night When Saturday night did come me boys, They wouldn't then go out These three drunken maidens, They pushed the jug about. Then in comes bouncing Sally, Her cheeks as red as blooms Move up me jolly sisters, And give young Sally some room For I will be your equal Before the night is out These four drunken maidens, They pushed the jug about. There's woodcock and pheasant, There's partridge and hare There's all sorts of dainties, No scarcity was there There's forty quarts of beer, me boys, They fairly drunk them out These four drunken maidens, They pushed the jug about. But up comes the landlord, He's asking for his pay It' a forty pound bill, me boys These gals have got to pay That's ten pounds apiece, me boys, But still they wouldn't go out These four drunken maidens, They pushed the jug about. Oh where are your feathered hats, Your mantles rich and fine They've all been swallowed up, In tankards of good wine And where are your maidenheads, You maidens frisk and gay We left them in the alehouse, We drank them clean away

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