Cold And Raw jig

Also known as The Irish Ho Hoane, Up In The Morning Early.

There are 7 recordings of this tune.

Cold And Raw has been added to 1 tunebook.

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One setting

1
X: 1
T: Cold And Raw
R: jig
M: 6/8
L: 1/8
K: Gmin
D | G2 A B2 c | d>=ef F2 F | G>AG d>c/B/A/ | G3 d2 D | G2 A B2 c |
d>=ef F2 F | G>AG d>c/B/A/ | G3 d2 ||: z | B>cB B2 B | c>dc c3 |
d>ef g>fe | d3 f2 F | B>cB B2 B| cdf g2 f/e/ | d>cB c>BA | G3 d2 :||

Five comments

Cold And Raw

From Playford’s collection of 1695 (English). This cold evening’s the right time for it maybe. But I think it’s not
exactly a jig An alternative title is "Up in the Morning Early".

Re: Cold And Raw

Burns used this tune for his song of the same name (Up in the Morning Early)

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west,
The drift is driving sairly;
Sae loud and shrill’s I hear the blast,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.

Up in the morning’s no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its winter fairly.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn,
A’ day they fare but sparely;
And lang’s the night frae e’en to morn,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.

Up in the morning’s no for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure its winter fairly.

Re: Cold And Raw

The tune is apparently Irish (c 1600) and an alternative name is "The Irish Ho Hoane" (c 1610)

Re: Cold And Raw

"Ochón!" is Irish for "Alas!", sometimes emphasised "Ochón agus ochón-ó", freely translated as "Alas and woe is me!". An "ochón" is a cry/wail/lament, anglicised as "ho hoane".

Re: Cold And Raw

Siuloir : ochon has the same meaning, "Alas" for Scots. Robert Burns’ song "The Highland Widow’s Lament" includes "ochon" as she mourns her husband’s death at the Battle of Culloden:-

The Highland Widow’s Lament 1794

"Oh I am come to the low Countrie,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Without a penny in my purse,
To buy a meal to me.

It was na sae in the Highland hills,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Nae woman in the Country wide,
Sae happy was as me.

For then I had a score o’kye,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Feeding on you hill sae high,
And giving milk to me.

And there I had three score o’yowes,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Skipping on yon bonie knowes,
And casting woo’ to me.

I was the happiest of a’ the Clan,
Sair, sair, may I repine;
For Donald was the brawest man,
And Donald he was mine.

Till Charlie Stewart cam at last,
Sae far to set us free;
My Donald’s arm was wanted then,
For Scotland and for me.

Their waefu’ fate what need I tell,
Right to the wrang did yield;
My Donald and his Country fell,
Upon Culloden field.

Oh I am come to the low Countrie,
Ochon, Ochon, Ochrie!
Nae woman in the warld wide,
Sae wretched now as me."

The song tune is nice too.