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Brigg Fair

FOR SATB CHOIR AND CHAMBER ORCHESTRA

traditional English folk song

arranged by Douglas Mears

Instrumentation

Instrumentation

Flute

Oboe
English Horn
2 Clarinets in Bb
Bassoon
2 Horns in F
Timpani
Percussion I
finger cymbals

Percussion II

suspended cymbal

Percussion III

triangle, chimes

Harps

pedal harp, Irish harp (optional)
SATB Choir
Violin I
Violin II
Viola
Cello
Contrabass

Program Notes

Program Notes

Notes

 

Brigg Fair is a traditional English folk song from the town of Brigg in North Lincolnshire. Its title refers to the Brigg Horse Fair, a centuries-old August gathering that drew traders, musicians, and revelers from across the region. More than just a marketplace, it was a social highlight of the year, alive with music, dancing, courtship, and celebration.

The song’s verses reflect this festive spirit, telling of two young lovers hurrying to the fair, rejoicing in reunion, and pledging their constancy.

The song as we know it today was first collected in 1905 from Joseph Taylor, a farm bailiff from the nearby village of Saxby-All-Saints. Admired for the clarity and sincerity of his singing, Taylor’s rendition was preserved in some of the earliest recordings and later inspired renowned arrangements by Percy Grainger and Frederick Delius.

In this setting for chorus and orchestra, the voices retain the unaffected charm of Taylor’s singing, while the orchestra evokes the pastoral landscape from which the song emerged.

 

Lyrics


It was on the fifth of August, the weather fair and fine;
unto Brigg Fair I did repair, for love I was inclined.

I got up with the lark in the morning, my heart so full of glee,
expecting there to meet my dear, long time I’d wished to see.

 

I looked over my left shoulder to see whom I could see.
And there I spied my own true love come drawing near to me.

He took me gently by the hand, all merrily was my heart.
For now we’re met together and nevermore shall part.

 

For its meeting is a pleasure, and parting is a grief;
and an inconstant lover is worse than any thief.

For the green leaves they will wither bare and the branches they will dee

if ever I should prove untrue to the one who loves me.

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