Fred kirby big rock candy mtn

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Why don't we just call you Fred Kirby?" Anyway, he took my name home and he came back the next day and said, "well Fred, you're planning to go to Charlotte, North Carolina, to WBT." I said, "how in the world did you know that, because I didn't tell a soul." He said, "you're going in a few weeks because you've got to have the measles first." Imagine all that—and I had the measles.

I went there and remained for two years. I'd seen pictures of them in the newspaper. I hadn't even been thinking about it, but I said I'd love to see it. It was just empty.

I went into the studio and there stood a mike. (Laughs) I remained there for about seven or eight months.

MT: Then did you go on to Charlotte radio?

FK: Yes.

This is weird; it sounds like something you wouldn't believe. [1685-1688]

There is a ship, we understand,
Now riding in the river;
'Tis newly come from Lubberland, [Rumbelo?]
The like I think was never;
You that a lazy life do love.
I'd have you now go over,
They say the land is not above
Two thousand leagues from Dover.

The captain and the master too,
Do's give us this relation,
And so do's all the whole ship's crew,
Concerning this strange nation:
"The streets are pav'd with pudding-pies,
nay, powder'd-beef and bacon,
They say they scorn to tell you lies:'
Who thinks it is mistaken.

The king of Knaves, and Queen of Sluts
Reign there in peace and quiet;
You need not fear to starve your guts,
There is such store of dyet:
There may you live free from all care,
Like hogs set up a fat'ning;
The garments which the people wear
Is silver, silk and satin.

The lofty buildings of this place
For many years have lasted;
With nutmegs, pepper, cloves, and mace,
The walls are there rough-casted,
In curious hasty-pudding boil'd,
And most ingenious carving;
Likewise they are with pancakes ty'd,
Sure, here's no fear of starving.

The captain says, "In every town,
Hot roasted pigs will meet ye,
They in the streets run up and down,
Still crying out, Come eat me",
Likewise, he says, "At every feast,
The very fowls and fishes,
Nay from the biggest to the least,
Comes tumbling to the dishes.

"The rivers run with claret fine,
The brooks with rich canary,
The ponds with other sorts of wine,
To make your hearts full merry:
Nay, more than this, you may behold,
The fountains flow with brandy,
The rocks are like refined gold,
The hills are sugar candy.

"Rose-water is the rain they have,
   Which comes in pleasant showers,
All places are adorned brave,
With sweet and fragrant flowers.
Hot custards grows on ev'ry tree,
Each ditch affords rich jellies;
Now if you will be ruled by me,
Go ther and fill your bellies.

"There's nothing there but holy-days
With music out of measure;
Who can forbear to speak the praise
Of such a land of pleasure?
There may you lead a lazy life
Free from all kind of labours:
And he that is without a wife,
May borrow of his neighbour.

"There is no law nor lawyer's fees
All men are free from fury,
For ev'ry one do's what he please,
Without a judge or jury:
The summer-time is warm they say,
The winter's ne'er the colder,
They have no landlords' rent to pay
Each man is a free-holder."


You that are free to cross the seas
Make no more disputation:
In Lubber-land you'll live at ease,
With pleasant recreation:
The Captain waits but for a gale
Of prosperous wind and weather,
And then they soon will hoist up sail,
Make haste saway together.

Printed for J.

Deacon, at the Angel in Gilt-spur-street [1685-1701]

Play: B102, Daniel Cooper

Here we have direct imitation from the middle-English "The Land of Cokaygne".

Fur in see bi west Spaynge [Spain
Is a lond ihote Cokaygne [called
Ther nis lond under hevenriche
Of wel, of godnis, hit iliche [like it
Thogh Paradis be miri and bright
Cokaygne is of fairir sight.
..

...
The gees irostid on the spitte [geese roasted
Fless to the abbai, God hit wot [fly
And gredith, "Gees, al hote, al hot!" [cry out
..
That ye mote that lond ise [might ..

You tell me if you think it's a root of BRCM. That's what I'm doing right now.

That's why I'm looking forward to coming up to Tweetsie. P[ocock]. see
And nevermore turne aye,
Prey we God so mote hit be [might it
Ame, pur seint charite.

This is obviously the original from which "The Big Rock Cady Mountain" draws.

After I got through with the measles, I took off for Charlotte. But as long as I'm able I think they'll let me go.

Final message for all of Fred Kirby's High Country friends: "Tell everybody up there howdy for me!"