The Johnstons - The Lambs On The Green Hills

From their LP “The Johnstons” (Transatlantic Records TRA-169) released in 1968.

The Johnstons were an Irish close-harmony folk group, originally founded in the early 60s in Slane, County Meath, consisting of siblings Adrienne, Lucy and Michael Johnston. Building on home territory successes, they delivered their first proper long player (following on from a singles compilation) in May 1968. By this time they were: Adrienne Johnston (vocals), Lucy Johnston (vocals); Mick Moloney (vocals, banjo, mandolin) and Paul Brady (vocals, guitar, fiddle, mandolin). Although they were as comfortable with traditional or contemporary material, an LP of traditionals was decided upon for this release.

For all the material is good throughout, the album is dominated by the utterly phenomenal rendition of “The Lambs on the Green Hills”, led intensely by Adrienne. The liner notes tell us that it comes from Colm O'Lochlainns first collection of Irish songs and is related closely to the Scottish “I Once Loved A Lass” and countless other variants of the most familiar theme in folk music; the story of unrequited love. The performance from all is spine tingling – perfectly poised, with an intimate delicacy which could bring even the severest of brutes to tears. It’s surely one of the greatest moments in the entire history of recorded folk music.

My album review:

[TheJukeboxRebel]

The lambs on the green hills, they sport and they play,
And many strawberries grow round the salt sea,
And many strawberries grow round the salt sea,
And many's the ships sails in the ocean.

The bride and bride's party to church they did go,
The bride she rode foremost, she bears the best show,
But I followed after with my heart full of woe,
To see my love wed to another.

The first place I saw her 'twas in the church stand,
Gold rings on her finger and her love by the hand,
Says I, my wee lassie, I will be the man,
Although you are wed to another.

The next place I saw her, 'twas on the way home,
I ran on before her, not knowin' where to roam,
Says I, my wee lassie, I'll be by your side,
Although you are wed to another.

Stop, stop, says the groomsman, till I speak a word,
Will venture your life on the point of my sword,
For courting so slowly you've lost this fair maid,
So begone, for you'll never enjoy her.

Oh, make now my grave, both large, wide, and deep,
And sprinkle it over with flowers so sweet,
And lay me down in it to take my last sleep,
For that's the best way to forget her.