(The late great Sandy Denny of the folk-rock band Fairport Convention).

There is plenty to yammer on about this morning and we are not going to do it. This is a time of transformation, and we could raise our voices about matters like “Section-702!” or attorney-privilege. You’re lucky to be where you are, safe from the sound. It can be a little unnerving with the holiday spirit rising around the circle at the Morning Production Meeting. At least our sound might be. We gladly accept blame for the occasional cacophony, but we hasten to remind you that there is a lot of that inadvertent vocalization that comes with the season. We admit we have joined and contributed to the joyful noise.

We are moderately confident that this wonderful globe of ours will continue to spin, and we support being along for the road.

Some of that distinct sound resurrected in the last century has followed us around the world longer than Sandy walked- or strutted- through our collective consciousness. Our crowd was just graduating high school when she made her mark. In one electrifying year, Fairport made three albums with Sandy at the microphone. The impact of the band’s repertoire and her haunting voice spread across the Atlantic and then the world. With fame came tragedy. Returning to London from a gig in Birmingham in May 1969, the band’s van crashed on the M1 Motorway. Drummer Martin Lamble, just 19, and the girlfriend of guitarist Richard Thompson, Jeannie Franklyn, were killed instantly. Sandy had travelled home separately that night and rose to see a magical world in ruins.

The richness of college life enabled us to experience Sandy and her Fairport bandmates to waft in the air over campus with other old songs, electrified and reenergized. One that struck us with particular vibrancy was a poignant lament known as “Matty Groves.” We have attempted to warble the parts we could remember on three or four continents. In other versions of the old song, the title was known as”Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard.” The ballad was first popular in Northern England and described the abrupt resolution of an adulterous tryst between a young man and a noblewoman abruptly ended when the woman’s husband discovers and slays them with a long proud blade.

There was a cascade of resurrected material in those years, old things made new, and new bands stretching the limits of old folk. They released three albums in 1969 alone. Fairport continues to perform some 40 years later with numerous personnel changes along the way and a catalogue of music that is as rich as their own history. Media reports t band’s annual Cropredy Festival in Oxfordshire is always likely to spring a surprise or two, with past members putting in appearances alongside special guests from the folk world and beyond.
Members of the group included Sandy Denny, Richard Thompson, Simon Nicol, Ian Matthews, Dave Pegg, Dave Mattacks, Ashley Hutchings, Judy Dyble and Dave Swarbrick among many others. We assure you the Cropredy continues and will be held in the summer of our New Year. But a major part of the magic was frozen on 21 April 1978. when Sandy suffered a fatal fall on a marble staircase. We carried part of her with us notwithstanding her demise. The most portable of her songs with Fairport begins with the refrain that makes it ever topical. We do not get much farther than the first refrain, but if there is a holiday approaching, you are liable to hear it emanating from The Patio!

Matty Groves

A holiday, a holiday
And the first one of the year
Lord Donald’s wife came into the church
The Gospel for to hear

And when the meeting it was done
She cast her eyes about
And there she saw little Matty Groves
Walking in the crowd

“Come home with me, little Matty Groves
Come home with me tonight
Come home with me, little Matty Groves
And sleep with me ’til light”

“Oh, I can’t come home, I won’t come home
And sleep with you tonight
By the rings on your fingers
I can tell you are Lord Donald’s wife”

“But if I am Lord Donald’s wife
Lord Donald’s not at home
He is out in the far cornfields
Bringing the yearlings home”

And a servant who was standing by
And hearing what was said
He swore Lord Donald he would know
Before the sun would set

And in his hurry to carry the news
He bent his breast and ran
And when he came to the broad mill stream
He took off his shoes and he swam

Little Matty Groves, he lay down
And took a little sleep
When he awoke, Lord Donald
Was standing at his feet

Saying, “How do you like my feather bed
And how do you like my sheets
How do you like my lady
Who lies in your arms asleep?”

“Oh, well, I like your feather bed
And well, I like your sheets
But better I like your lady gay
Who lies in my arms asleep”

“Well, get up, get up”, Lord Donald cried
“Get up as quick as you can
It’ll never be said in fair England
I slew a naked man”

“Oh, I can’t get up, I won’t get up
I can’t get up for my life
For you have two long beaten swords
And I not a pocket knife”

“Well, it’s true I have two beaten swords
And they cost me deep in the purse
But you will have the better of them
And I will have the worse”

“And you will strike the very first blow
And strike it like a man
I will strike the very next blow
And I’ll kill you if I can”

So Matty struck the very first blow
And he hurt Lord Donald sore
Lord Donald struck the very next blow
And Matty struck no more

And then Lord Donald he took his wife
And he sat her on his knee
Saying, “Who do you like the best of us
Matty Groves or me?”

And then up spoke his own dear wife
Never heard to speak so free
“I’d rather a kiss from dead Matty’s lips
Than you or your finery”

Lord Donald, he jumped up
And loudly he did bawl
He struck his wife right through the heart
And pinned her against the wall

“A grave, a grave”, Lord Donald cried
“To put these lovers in
But bury my lady at the top
For she was of noble kin”

(Lord Donald (R) meets out justice to Matty Groves, a practice which seems to be returning in this new century).