> A.L. Lloyd > Songs > Lovely Joan
> Martin Carthy > Songs > Lovely Joan
> Shirley Collins > Songs > Lovely Joan
> Peter Bellamy > Songs > Lovely Joan

Lovely Joan

[ Roud 592 ; Ballad Index ShH57 ; trad.]

Ralph Vaughan Williams collected Lovely Joan in 1908 from Christopher Jay, Acle, Norfolk, and later published it in The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs. A.L. Lloyd recorded it in 1960 for A Selection from the Penguin Book of English Folk Songs. Like all tracks from this LP it was reissued in 2003 on the CD England & Her Traditional Songs. Lloyd wrote in the album's sleeve notes:

The words of this skittish song have hitherto been published only in modified form. It's easy to scoff at the bowdlerising habits of early collectors, but it must be remembered that, half a century ago, folk song was generally considered to be of doubtful value, and collectors were under pressure to compromise, if they were going to get the tunes heard at all. The rather intricate moral issues suggested by Lovely Joan delighted country audiences, as they amuse us now; but may powerful folk to whom the collectors looked for support would have found the authentic text deeply shocking. Several tunes go to Lovely Joan, none of them duds. This one was sung to Vaughan Williams in a Norfolk pub by a labourer named Christopher Jay. Later, the composer wove the tune into his well-known Fantasia on Greensleeves.

Lovely Joan was also sung by Martin Carthy on his first record, Martin Carthy, and with John Kirkpatrick playing accordion and Howard Evans playing trumpet on Because It's There. The latter recording was re-released on the Topic sampler The Good Old Way and on two Martin Carthy anthologies, The Collection and Rigs of the Time. A previously unreleased recording - live at Folk City NY, October 27, 1983 - is included in The Carthy Chronicles. He also sang it live in studio in July 2006 for the DVD Guitar Maestros.

Martin Carthy commented his first album's notes:

The heroine of Lovely Joan may not have had quite the same resources at her disposal [as the girl in The Broomfield Hill] but succeeds no less in thwarting the young man's designs by swift action rather than chicanery. Found in southern England, East Anglia and elsewhere.

and Steve Winick in the The Collection sleeve notes:

Lovely Joan has been collected in Southern England, East Anglia and elsewhere. Ralph Vaughan Williams and A.L. Lloyd wrote of it: “Many of our amatory folk songs show a double sentiment of gaiety and irony that comes as a surprise to those expecting merely yokel quaintness. The young lady may show herself at a loss over the conduct of a false lover, but, confronted with importunity, she remains as a rule unruffled, completely mistress of herself. And if the subterfuges she adopts are of doubtful honesty, the implied judgement is that she is a smart girl and it serves that young fellow right.” In other words, never underestimate anyone on account of social class or gender. If you do, you'll deserve what you get.

Shirley Collins sang Lovely Joan in 1967 on her album The Power of the True Love Knot. She commented in the album notes:

Etched in sunlight on a bright green field, Joan, with her resource and agility (not to mention her faithfulness to her true-lover) is immortal. The air is well-known: Vaughan Williams used it as an interlude in his Greensleeves Fantasia. Dolly's completely radical yet simple arrangement seems to underline the young man's caddish advances.

Peter Bellamy sang Lovely Joan unaccompanied in 1968 on his first solo album, Mainly Norfolk.

See also Coope Boyes & Simpson's version on their 2005 album Triple Echo: Songs collected by Ralph Vaughan Williams, George Butterworth and Percy Grainger.

Lyrics

A.L. Lloyd sings Lovely Joan	Martin Carthy sings Lovely Joan
A fine young man it was indeed, He was mounted on his milk-white steed. He rode, he rode, himself all alone Until he came to lovely Joan.	A fine young man it was indeed, Mounted on his milk-white steed. He rode, he rode, and he rode all alone Until he came to lovely Joan.
“Good morning to you, pretty maid.” And “Twice good morning, sir,” she said. He gave her a wink, and she rolled her eye. Says he to himself, “I'll be there by and by.”	“Good morning to you, my pretty maid.” And “Twice good morning, sir,” she said. He tipped her the wink, and she rolled her dark eye. Says he to himself, “I'll be there by and by.”
“Oh, don't you think these pooks of hay A pretty place for us to play? So come with me like a sweet young thing, And I'll give you my golden ring.”	“Oh, don't you think these pooks of hay A pretty place for us to play? So come with me, me sweet young thing, And I'll give you my golden ring.”
Then he pulled off his ring of gold, “My pretty little miss, do this behold, I'd freely give it for your maidenhead.” And her cheeks they blushed like the roses red.	So he took off his ring of gold, Says, “Me pretty fair miss, do this behold. Freely I'll give it for your maidenhead.” And her cheeks they blushed like the roses red.
“Give me that ring into my hand And I would neither stay nor stand. For this would do more good to me Than twenty maidenheads,” said she.	“Come give that ring into my hand And I will neither stay nor stand. For your ring is worth much more to me Than twenty maidenheads,” said she.
And as he made for the pooks of hay, She leapt on his horse and tore away. He called, he called, but it was all in vain, Young Joan she never looked back again.	And as he made for the pooks of hay, She leapt on his horse and tore away. He called, he called, but he called in vain, For Joan she ne'er looked back again.
She didn't think herself quite safe Not till she came to her true love's gate. She'd robbed him of his horse and ring And left him to rage in the meadows green.	Nor did she she think herself quite safe Until she came to her true love's gate. She'd robbed him of his horse and ring And she left him to rage in the meadows green.

Shirley Collins sings Lovely Joan	Peter Bellamy sings Lovely Joan
A fine young man it was indeed, Mounted upon his milk-white steed. He rode, he rode, himself all alone Until he came to lovely Joan.	A fine young man it was indeed, He come mounted on his milk-white steed. He rode and he rode himself all alone Until he come to lovely Joan.
“Good morning to you, my pretty little maid.” “Twice good morning, sir,” she said. He tipped her the wink, she rolled her eye. Said he to himself, “I'll be there by and by.”	“Good morning to you, my pretty fair maid.” “And it's twice good morning, sir,” she said. He gave her the wink and she rolled her eye. Said him to himself, “Well, I'll be there by and by.”
“Now, don't you think there pooks of hay A pretty place for us to play? So come with me like a sweet young thing, And I'll give you my golden ring.”	“Well, don't you think that these pooks of hay Are a pretty place for us to play? So come with me, my pretty young thing, And I'll give you this golden ring.”
Then he pulled off his ring of gold, “My pretty little miss, do this behold, I'd freely give it for your maidenhead.” Her cheeks they blushed like roses red.	Then he pulled off his ring of gold, Saying, “Pretty little miss, do this behold, I'd freely give it for your maidenhead.” And her cheeks they blushed like the roses red.
“Give me the ring into my hand And I will neither stay nor stand. For that would be more use to me Than twenty maidenheads,” said she.	“It's give me that ring all into my hand And I will neither stay nor stand. For that golden ring it is worth to me Much more than twenty maidenheads,” said she.
Then as he made for the pooks of hay, She leapt on his horse and she tore away. He called and called, but all in vain, For Joan she never looked back again.	But as he made for the pooks of hay, She jumped upon his horse and she tore away. He cursed and he swore, but it was all in vain, Young Joan she never looked back again.
Nor did she think herself quite safe Not till she came to her true love's gate. She's robbed the lord of his horse and ring And left him to rage in the meadows green.	And she didn't think herself quite safe Until she had come to her father's gate. She's robbed him of his horse and his ring And left him to rage in the meadows green.

Acknowledgements

Transcribed from the singing of Martin Carthy by Garry Gillard.