An appraisal of the Norfolk singer in “Ethnic” magazine, 1959

“There’s people making money out of these hare old songs, but it’s not us.” – Harry Cox

In the late 1950s, as the post-war revival of interest in traditional music and song was
gaining momentum, there were considerably fewer opportunities or forums available for those wishing to read, write or find out about the subject, than there are today. One
short-lived magazine, which ran to just four issues, was Ethnic magazine, edited by
Peter Grant, Reg Hall and Mervyn Plunkett. Later, Reg Hall wrote: “Mervyn Plunkett
(1920-86) tape recorded many singers and musicians in Sussex, Norfolk, Dorset,
Cornwall, Oxfordshire and Hampshire. He and I jointly produced four issues of Ethnic: A
Quarterly Survey of English Folk Music, Dance and Drama in 1959 and an EP 4 Sussex
Singers (Collector Records JEB7) in 1961, featuring George Spicer, Pop Maynard, Jean
Hopkins and Jim Wilson.” (1) Both men were involved in the West Hoathly Band of
Music, playing with the older pub musicians of that part of Sussex and, amongst other
things, brought the music of Norfolk’s Walter and Daisy Bulwer and Billy Cooper to a
wider audience. (2)

Ethnic magazine was a crude, basic affair by many standards. It contained no
photographs and comprised typed pages, with only the occasional drawing or diagram
amongst the text. The editorial policy statement read: “This Magazine is concerned with
traditional English song, instrumental music, dance, drama, and related activity and
custom. We hope to provide a common platform for singers, players, critics, collectors
and commentators who have the good of the tradition at heart.” In this respect, it
undoubtedly fulfilled a need in its short life. With this in mind, and given the rarity of
existing copies today, what follows is the article about Harry Cox, in the first issue, (3)
with the title given above, complete and without editing or abridging, including retaining
the occasional rendering of dialect speech, such as “hare” for “here”, as in the quote
above, also taken from the magazine, in a section entitled “Things They Say.” Unlike the
other articles in the rest of the magazine, no actual authorship is given.

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Harry Cox – The Catfield Wonder

No English folksinger has been more publicised than Harry Cox of Catfield, Norfolk. At
73 Harry is an almost legendary figure who for twenty years has been presented to us
as a relic miraculously preserved from a bygone age. Casual readers of the literature
during the thirties and forties might well have imagined that – apart from Philip Tanner of the Gower – Harry was the last of the Mohicans, and that with him would die the last
flicker of a fire that had burned throughout English history. Of course, people know
better now, and recognise that there are in fact several ancient English singers still
alive, or rather, lingering on.

While most field collectors would agree that there are still thousands of good traditional
singers in the countryside, Harry is widely regarded as the doyen of them all and the
post-War revival has brought him renewed recognition in the shape of BBC recording
sessions, television with Alan Lomax, and more recently a visit to the heart of
Revisionist Revivalism – the Hootingnanny. “The rummest do I bin to lately.”
Harry was born at Barton Turf on Barton Broad, one of a family of thirteen, of whom four
died in infancy. His grandfather was well known locally as a step-dancer and as a singer
with a very large repertoire. Harry learned many of his songs from him and will cite this
as evidence that some of his songs are more than a century old. In Harry’s childhood
his family had a bitter struggle to make ends meet, yet he is able to say of his
grandfather “he was in the hard times.” Harry’s father was a noted singer and fiddle
player – his fiddle was always in demand at festive occasions and in the local pubs –
and when money was short he could often earn as much as a day’s pay for an
evening’s playing, with beer thrown in. He would bring in as much as a shilling a night
when Harry was “a little old tot.” Unlike his father, who was a fisherman and wherryman, Harry has spent most of his life on land “doing everything I should think round about the farming way.” He has often been referred to as a blacksmith, but doesn’t know how the idea got about, “except maybe that I’m black enough.”

During the first World War Harry served on a minelayer in the North Sea, based on
Rosyth and Scapa Flow. Apart from this period and occasional trips to Norwich and
London, he has never been more than a few miles away from his home. He recalls one
visit to London on which he was pressed into playing the ‘house’ melodeon and came
home with full skin and pockets. In his experience strange musicians generally did
better than local men, and some of the travelling fiddle players at that time were
comparatively wealthy men. The dancing in the pubs was step and clog mixed in with
four-hand reels and other country dances.

“Polkas? I never was in that. These hare old women they used to like what they called a
jig – a jig-step they called it. These hare old girls they used to come in the pubs and
have a spree – used to kind of skip and mess about. The ‘Ship’ at Sutton was never a
real dancing house – not like some of the others – although we used to have our
meetings there and Moeran used to come. I never did know him before, myself. I think
his father was a clergyman over at Bacton. Then he was in the first World War – he
began collecting these songs before – then he had to pack up. After the War he began
again – he used to come to Sutton. Come that way I first met him. He put me in those
books. They never were all in there though. He did well, he did a lot of writing. You used
to sing for him – he used to get the music – take the tune down you see, a little in this
line, a little in that. He got the “Ploughboy.” I don’t know what happened to that – he sold that or something or other. He got ten pound for that. We went halves. Well, they can’t do what they like with these hare songs, really, can they? That was mine – or that was how he got it. We had five pound apiece. I don’t know what I done with it – where it went. Now I’m blessed. He was a good chap.

Harry is a modest and warm-hearted man of many skills. It is nearly fifty years now
since he made his “little old dancing doll.” This doll accompanied him on his recent trip
to London, but he didn’t unpack it. The doll is carved out of wood, blackened and
burnished by long years of handling. The body is supported by a horizontal peg which
projects from its back and is held rigidly in one hand. The arms and legs are freely
articulated in puppet fashion. The operator sits on one end of a thin three-foot board,
the other end projecting between the knees and free to vibrate vertically. The doll is held in position just above the free end of the board which is rapped with the knuckles of the free hand. The result is a spectacular quick-fire clog dance by the doll to a diddled accompaniment.

Harry plays the fiddle, but unlike his father he is very shy of playing it in public –
preferring to tune up in the afternoons when he is alone in the house. His main
instrument is the melodeon, which he plays with a fierce open four-in-a-bar left hand
and a jagged right – a rough and typically Southern style of great drive and punch. His
tune repertoire includes many old EFDS stalwarts and it is an eye-opener to hear these
tunes played in this earthy style. Although his playing gives the impression that he has
never been a player at formal dances, Harry does not regard his instrument as a vocal
prop – indeed he never accompanies himself when singing. This apparent dissociation
of instrumental music from song and organised dance is common amongst country
musicians.

Of the fifty-odd songs I have heard him sing, almost all are in the major mode. Even the
exotic-sounding “Georgie” which starts off in the Dorian owes much of its attraction to a
late switch to the major. Few of his tunes show any marked tendency towards
hexatonism and he is no more disposed to sing in the Mixolydian than are other
traditional singers. He pitches mainly in the middle to lower register and would perhaps
sing a tone or so higher if his voice permitted him nowadays. Like that of every other
great country singer his style sounds deceptively simple and has little decoration. He
makes little use of the shake and decorates sparingly. His pitching is subtle, decorative
figures often being sharpened and line-endings flattened slightly, the effect being to give greater lift to the performance. While he does not slur to any marked extent, a
noticeable feature of Harry’s style is the quite artificial quality of many of his vowels and
most of his consonants.

Harry’s unnatural singing pronunciation is quite deliberate and is by now means unique.
It tends to give his words a curiously exaggerated clarity and to give added emphasis to
the beat. As he says himself, he likes a tune to have a swing to it. Many of his tunes are
very fine, but the impression given by the BBC recordings is misleading as these are
highly selected. Harry singing in the flesh and swapping songs as they come into his
head is not the rare and exotic flower of the fens – a great many of his songs are
common amongst my Sussex friends – but rather a homely and familiar figure as we
argue the toss as to whether Maria Martin and William Corder belong in the same song
as Maria Back and Switzerland John of “The Folkestone Murder.”

Harry is no orchid; nor a daisy for that matter. Perhaps his badge should be one of his
own beautiful corn-dollies, draped with a twist of duck-weed.

Schottische

I had a little horse
He was such a kick-er
I stuck a plaster to his arse
And made him kick the quicker
It was all done with sheepskin
Beeswax
Tons of pitch and plaster
The more you tried to pull it off
By God it stuck the faster

I had a little cat
He was such a thief Sir
Stuck a plaster on his arse
And pulled out all his teeth Sir
It was all done…etc

I had a little wife
She was very civ-il
Stuck a plaster to her arse
And drew her to the dev-il
It was all done with beeswax
Sheepskin
Tons of pitch and plaster
The more you tried to pull it off
By God it stuck the faster
The tune is close to “The Ball of Kirriemuir”

There Was an Old Woman in Yorkshire

There was an old man in Yorkshire she did dwell
She lov’d ‘er old husband dearly and the lodger twice as well
Tiddle dee whack rye diddle um day
Toora looral day

She went to the doctor’s and asked him all so kind
Which was the nearest way to send ‘er old husband blind

He told ‘er to get some marra bone an’ scrape it fine and small
Rubber it into the old man’s eyes till he can’t see at all

The old man said I’ll go ‘n’ drown myself for I can’t see one mite
The old woman said I’ll go with you ‘fraid you shouldn’t go right

Arm and arm they went on until they came to the brim
The old man ‘is foot to one side and plump’d the old woman in

She swam about and swam about until she came to the brim
The old man got the linen prompt and pushed ‘er further in

How the old woman did scream how the old woman did bawl
The old man said I can’t help you for I can’t see at all

So now my song is ended and I can’t sing no more
My old woman is drownded and I am safe on shore
Toora looral day

This song is sometimes known as “Johnny Sands.” It seems to be well known in Ireland
and in the States, and has been referred to as well-known in England. It does not,
however, appear to have been printed in any of the collections or in the EFDS Journal,
although it has appeared on broadsides.

Bold Archer

It was all in the month of June
Just as the flowers were in full bloom
A cas’ ‘e was built on Kansa’ Green
For to put Bold Archer in

So now our brother in prison do lay
Condemn’d for to die is he
If I ‘ad eleven such brothers as me
So soon a prisoner I’d set free

Oh eleven said Richard that’s little enow
For forty there must be
The chains and the bars will have to be broke
Before Bold Archer we can set free

Now ten for to stand by our horses rein
Ten for to guard us round about
Ten for to stand by the cas’le wall
And ten for to bring Bold Archer out

So Dickey broke locks and Dickey broke bars
Dickey broke everything he could see
He took Bold Archer under his arm
And carried him out most manfully

They mounted their horses away they did ride
Bold Archer he mounted so ‘appy and free
They rode till they came to a far waterside
Where they dismounted s’ manfully

And then they order’d the music to play
It played so sweet and joyfully
And the ver’ best dancer amongst them all
Was Bold Archer who they set free

Oh look back look back Bold Archer he cried
Look back look back cried he
Here comes the High Sh’reeve o’ Honny Dundee
With a hundred men in his company

Oh come back come back now cried the High Sh’reeve
Come back come back cried he
If you down retorn my irons to me
Bold Archer a prisoner still must be

Oh no nay no nay that never can be
No that never can be
The iron will do our horses to shoe
And the smith he’ll a-ride in our company

So ‘e wrote a letter home to ‘is wife
And to his children three
Say’ng my ‘orse is lame and I cannot swim
So condemn’d this day shall be

Note. We make no apologies for the printing of Harry’s “Bold Archer.” Verses 1- 7 of this
ballad were published by Francis Collinson and Francis Dillon in their collection of
songs from “Country Magazine” – (Songs From The Countryside, book 1, W. Paxton &
Co.) without acknowledgement of the source. Our version of Harry’s text differs
substantially in Verse 6, and we print the whole in order to do justice to a very fine and
otherwise unknown ballad.

Note. In spite of the association of Harry’s name with that of the late E J Moeran, the
latter included hardly any of his songs in his two contributions to the Folk Song Journal
(Vol. VII No. 26, 1922, & Vol. VIII No. 35, 1931). In those collections it will be seen that
Moeran relied almost entirely on material from other Norfolk and Suffolk singers. Very
few of Harry’s songs are available in print, but about fifty are available on disc
recordings in the Sound Library at Cecil Sharp House (BBC recordings). One master of
his “Foggy Dew” has been released twice by HMV in two different settings – one on LP
and one on EP (“The Barley Mow”).
Songs not listed in the EFDS Journal Vol. VIII No. 3 include –
Wreck of the Ramilles Rigs of the Time
Barbara Allen Box upon her Head
Outlandish Knight Lord Bateman
Jolly Cobbler I wish they’d do it now
Folkestone Murder Cruel Ship’s Carpenter
Miss Doxy Johnny used to grind the coffee mill
Hungry Fox One man to mow me down my meadow
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As mentioned previously, the above text has been given verbatim and complete, with no amendments made, to preserve fully the article in its original form. Fuller details of Harry Cox’s life and music are available in a variety of articles, including on this site, where can also be found a full discography of his recordings. Highly recommended too is the
Bonny Labouring Boy CD set released by Topic Records (TSCD512D) with its
accompanying booklet, and on which Bold Archer can be heard. Harry’s version of
There Was an Old Woman in Yorkshire (Marrowbones) was released on the English
Love Songs LP.

Chris Holderness August 2025

Notes:

(1) Reg Hall: “I Never Played to Many Posh Dances”: Scan Tester, Sussex Musician
1887-1972 Musical Traditions supplement no. 2 1990 p.69

(2) The English Country Music album, originally released as Record No.1 in 1965.
This will be considered in detail in a future article.

(3) Vol.1 No.1 January 1959