The Prickle Holly Bush

The festive decorations in the square are minimalist but nonetheless eye-catching, so well worth a snap. And to continue a running theme this week, I'll share an old English folk song to accompany it.

The Prickle Holly Bush - performed here by The Watersons - is a tale that's persisted for hundreds of years, crossing the Atlantic in the process and embedding itself in American culture as the blues song Gallows Pole. The song deals with the plight of a ne'er-do-well under sentence of death for an unknown offence, repeatedly pleading with his executioner for a few more minutes' grace as he spies his various family members coming to visit him one by one. Each time, the young unfortunate eagerly enquires of his kin whether they've brought the money required to release him from his sentence; however, each of them in turn replies that, far from coming to buy his way out, they're actually there to watch him die. It's not entirely clear what he's done to deserve each of his relatives making an individual pilgrimage for the specific purpose of telling him they'll enjoy watching him snuff it, but you suspect at the very least he must have fucked up one too many family holidays.

Still, all's well that end's well; his girlfriend shows up with the dosh in the nick of time, and he walks free (though presumably, Christmas dinner with the folks is going to be an awkward affair this year). Now out of danger, he swears never to get himself into trouble again. You see? Rehabilitation works.


"Oh, slack your horse," cries George,
"Come slack it for a while,
For I think I see my father
Coming over yonder stile."

"Did you bring gold?
Did you bring silver to set me free?
For to keep my body from the cold gaol wall
And me neck from the high gallows tree."

"I've no gold,
I've no silver to set you free,
But I have come for to see you hang,
Oh, hang upon the high gallows tree."

Oh, the prickle-holly bush, it pricks, it pricks,
Oh, it pricks my heart full sore
And if ever I get out of the prickle-holly bush
I'll never get in there anymore.

"Oh, slack your horse," cries George,
"Come slack it for a while,
For I think I see my mother
Coming over yonder stile."

"Did you bring gold?
Did you bring silver to set me free?
For to keep my body from the cold gaol wall
And me neck from the high gallows tree."

"I've no gold,
I've no silver to set you free,
But I have come for to see you hang,
Oh, hang upon the high gallows tree."

Oh, the prickle-holly bush, it pricks, it pricks,
Oh, it pricks my heart full sore
And if ever I get out of the prickle-holly bush
I'll never get in there anymore.

"Oh, slack your horse," cries George,
"Come slack it for a while,
For I think I see my sister
Coming over yonder stile."

"Did you bring gold?
Did you bring silver to set me free?
For to keep my body from the cold gaol wall
And me neck from the high gallows tree."

"I've no gold,
I've no silver to set you free,
But I have come for to see you hang,
Oh, hang upon the high gallows tree."

Oh, the prickle-holly bush, it pricks, it pricks,
Oh, it pricks my heart full sore
And if ever I get out of the prickle-holly bush
I'll never get in there anymore.

"Oh, slack your horse," cries George,
"Come slack it for a while,
For I think I see my sweetheart
Coming over yonder stile."

"Did you bring gold?
Did you bring silver to set me free?
For to keep my body from the cold gaol wall
And me neck from the high gallows tree."

"I've brought gold,
I've brought silver to set you free,
For I've not come for to see you hang,
Oh, hang upon the high gallows tree."

Oh, the prickle-holly bush, it pricks, it pricks,
Oh, it pricks my heart full sore
And now that I'm out of the prickle-holly bush
I'll never get in there anymore.