[Arry]

The fiddles were just tuning up for another round of song as Ferdy and little Willi approached. ‘The lad’s got a request for you,’ Ferdy said bringing Willi forward. Gil crouched down to look the boy in the eye and asked what he might play for him.

‘Oh, it’s not for me,’ chirped Willi. ‘It’s for my friend . . . over there,’ he said, pointing to where Miz Bracegirdle sat enjoying her mushroom pie. ‘I think she needs a pretty song. A happy one.’ He looked back squarely at Gil. ‘You do an awful good job. Do you think you can find one to sing for her?’

Gil looked toward where the old gammer sat alone. Miz Thistle - she had a prickly temper and a sharp tongue at times, he knew from his own experience. Still, little Willi had seen past the bristly exterior it appeared. And she’d been wed, too. Lost him in the bad times, as Gil recalled. ‘Well, then, Master Willi, I think I can find a little something. Something light and fun to dance to if you wish. And I’ll put her name in it.

He stood up and played a few bars for the others. ‘Hob y derry dando,’ he said. ‘But I’m going to change the names a bit for Willi’s friend.’ The fiddles started out the song then as the drum kept the lively beat.

‘Here’s an old song,’ Gil called out as he stepped to the front of the little stage. ‘We’re singing it for a friend of little Willi’s here. Come up and dance if you’ve a mind to.’ He stepped back and played one verse through with the others then began to sing:

Low the hills in the Shire lie
Hob y derry dando
That hide the old mill from my eye
Hob y derry dando
One fond view, oh let me take
Down derry down
Ere my longing heart will break
Down, down, hie derry down
My darling Thistle do not frown
Down, down, hie derry down
My darling Thistle do not frown.

O'er the fields hath flown my heart
Hob y derry dando
O'er the fields my sighs depart
Hob y derry dando
O'er the fields must she be sought
Down derry down
Who lives always in my thought
Down, down, hie derry down
My darling Thistle do not frown
Down, down, hie derry down
My darling Thistle do not frown.

A comely lass I once caressed
Hob y derry dando
Another fair, her heart possessed
Hob y derry dando
But his, already given, he lost
Down derry down
Were ever three so sadly crossed
Down, down, hie derry down
My darling Thistle do not frown
Down, down, hie derry down
My darling Thistle do not frown.

They played a quick refrain and then sang the first verse once again.

Low the hills in the Shire lie
Hob y derry dando
That hide the old mill from my eye
Hob y derry dando
One fond view, oh let me take
Down derry down
Ere my longing heart will break
Down, down, hie derry down
My darling Thistle do not frown

‘Oh that was a good one!’ cried Willi, clapping his hands as he hopped about in rhythm to the last notes. Gil sneaked a quick glance to where Mis Bracegirdle sat, hoping she had liked it.