Written for the Old Tune Fresh Takes podcast.
Based on Willie Of Winsbury (traditional)

Lyrics:
Janet came to visit me

And straight away I knew she wasn’t right
I could smell him on her

Why you so pasty girl?

How did you get this sore sickness
Who is he that gave you sickness
Father I have no sore sickness
Loneliness my only sickness
 
I don’t believe a word of it, you haven’t been alone
cast off that dress, I want to see you naked on the stone
It’s nothing I’ve not seen before if you’ve got none to hide
And if your belly’s growing then I may just ken you’ve lied

With the dress cast off she stood, naked on the stone
Belly full of lies and sickness, flesh and blood and bone  
A bastard heir sired just to mock my empty throne 
There my former maiden stood, naked on the stone

Who is he, Janet?     

Was he Lord or Duke or Knight?
Usurper to your father’s might?   
Some lowly chancer acolyte?
Who is he Janet?

He isn’t Lord or Knight or Duke
No usurpers to rebuke
Your subjects are all true to you
His name is Willie


We must find this Willie
I told my boys the thirty and the three
Bring him here and let me kill
this peasant who might chance upon my seed
I can’t rest
while this sick fuck walks free
No grandchild of mine
be born to such indignity


Sir, he said

And straight away I knew that it was him
I could smell her on him
Intoxicating, queering my rage
He looked me in the eye my words fled away

Dressed so bold in bright red silk
Hair like gold and skin like milk
I hate this sickly, perfect man
So well hung and snow white tan
I couldn’t shake him from my mind
He and Janet intertwined
This specimen of humankind
Willie of Winsbury

My gut twitched, my throat dried, I knew that I was beat
Who could keep their nerve against a lust so indiscreet
I knew my Janet now was lost to me, her foolish heart too sweet
This beautiful usurper he had made his plan complete

Take my throne, Willie

But Willie didn’t want my land
He didn’t want my riches 
Willie had but one demand
For Janet’s hand in his 

And as they left, once again he trapped me with his eye
Not to bid farewell but to share with me some wisdom
Although I may be destitute, in making her my wife
We’ve more kingdom than the likes of you could conquer in your life

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My version of the Yoruba traditional song Iwe Kiko, all about remembering to be respectful of tradition in your learning. The original lyric focuses on the importance of agriculture in an increasingly urban world, but I've shifted that a bit to look into my approach to songwriting, and how having a deep appreciation and understanding of your influences is important, and in this case worn quite overtly on my sleeve.

Put together for the Old Tunes Fresh Takes podcast, as always, a total blast to do.

This features a sample from Tosinger's version of the song, sun by her sons.

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