Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread

Subject: SB: Being Vulgar by Spider Tom
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:16 AM

Being Vulgar by Spider Tom

My mother taught me proper,
I never slurp my soup,
And I've never wiped
My nose upon my sleeve,
But, I think,
I just said "farted"
Instead of "broken wind",
I hope that no one,
Took offence, to leave.

Chorus:
Being vulgar, being vulgar,
You might never learn good manners,
Wandering 'round the mulga,
But, you learn to be, highly skilled at,
Being vulgar.

I'm a true and proper gentleman,
Mostly, all the time,
I even lower loo lids,
As I'm leaving.
I cock my little finger,
When I'm drinking my high-tea,
Though they tell me,
Appearance is deceiving.

Chorus

I have learnt,
The social niceties,
That make a man acceptable,
I know that on occasion,
My writings are objectionable,
And I'm sorry,
If I caused you any pain.
You're lucky you're not,
Living in my brain.

Chorus

Subject: SB: Bert's Song Pages
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:29 AM

Bert's Song Pages

Subject: SB: Bess Is Our King by MMario
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:31 AM

WILLIE-O'S SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

Willie-O's Song Challenge:  The way the contents of Áine's Mudcat Songbook are ordered, the first song listed is my ballad "1743", because the index puts numbered titles in sequence first, then alphabetizes the rest.  So here's my challenge: write a song about a year or event which preceded 1743 AD, (as far back as 1742 BC actually), entitle it accordingly, and knock me out of the top spot! I dare ya!


Bess Is Our King by MMario

MMario's Comments:  The "Mary Tudor"/"Mary Stuart" identity mixup is one of my pet peeves; especially since I have had people rant on to me about Bess killing her sister (her sister was dead before Bess got the throne). Of course Mary Stuart was a relative too, but cousin's daughter IS at least a bit further removed then sister.


England has no king, some people say;
Bess Tudor's in need of a man
She's getting a bit long in the tooth
Better grab one while she can!

But Bess is our King, I'm glad to say,
What need for a man on the throne?
She's doing the job, why should we complain?
When she's doing just fine on her own

Ol' Bloody Mary, now she was wed
Took Phillip of Spain to her bed!
She hoped for an heir, and maybe a spare
But all it got her was dead!

But Bess is our King, I'm glad to say,
What need for a man on the throne?
She's doing the job, why should we complain?
When she's doing just fine on her own

Mary of Scotland had Husbands three
Two died, and one ran away
Now she's all alone, and she's lost her throne
Because of the men in her way

But Bess is our King, I'm glad to say,
What need for a man on the throne?
She's doing the job, why should we complain?
When she's doing just fine on her own

Isabella they say, was the ruler of Spain
But Ferdinand claimed the same
When she'd say "aye" then he'd say "Nay"
And vice-versa the other way!

But Bess is our King, I'm glad to say,
What need for a man on the throne?
She's doing the job, why should we complain?
When she's doing just fine on her own

Catherine the Great, just couldn't relate
to the men in Russia 'tis said
and that is why, on the day that she died
she was with her horse instead!

But Bess is our King, I'm glad to say,
What need for a man on the throne?
She's doing the job, why should we complain?
When she's doing just fine on her own

Subject: SB: Better To Fail by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:34 AM

Better To Fail by The Shambles

Don't just say, "oh it would be good".
"Yes, but, well, if only we could".
Just grab the bull by the horns,
Take the roses, don't mind the thorns
If you've got a favourite scheme,
Are you just going to sit there and dream?
Don't worry the children might do,
They're more ready for adventure than you.

Stand up proud, don't try to hide,
Say it loud, don't keep it inside.
It's better to fail, than to never have tried,
It's better to fail, than to never have tried,

How will you ever know,
If your talent might grow?
If you don't water the flower it dies
Open the cage and see the bird fly.
So come on, what's your excuse,
What do you really, really, have to lose?
If you make a small sacrifice,
You may find it's well worth the price?

Stand up proud, don't try to hide,
Say it loud, don't keep it inside.
It's better to fail, than to never have tried,
It's better to fail, than to never have tried,

Well you don't have to try to be the same,
I know it's hard, not to play that game.
But we are all different it's true,
It's only you can do the things you do.
Stand up proud, don't try to hide,
Say it loud, don't keep it inside.
It's better to fail, than to never have tried,
It's better to fail, than to never have tried,

Roger Gall 1996.

Subject: SB: The Bigot's Song by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:36 AM

The Bigot's Song by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments:   As for bigots: SONG WARNING - SONG WARNING. This one is down to my Geography teacher and it was just about the only constructive thing I remember learning there. He told me that the phrase, 'present company excepted', was the last refuge of the bigot. It enabled the bigot to give full rent to her prejudice, whist seeming to excuse the individuals present, from it. Sorry about that.... I was only teasing. I was going to say 'he', and 'his' but stopped and went to put 'them and 'their', but then I just couldn't resist it. Would anyone have picked me up for saying 'he' and 'his', in this context, I wonder, or are all bigots male? Just to add yet another subject to this thread.

Present company excepted, they're robbing us blind,
It's my view, that I'm entitled to and its true I'm 'gonna' speak my mind
Present company excepted, they think that they're 'high fliers',
It's understood, that they're no good and should be known as cheats and liars
Present company excepted, you're the only one, that I might trust,
It's clear to see, you're a lot like me and nearly could be one of us.

Present company excepted, they've got it laid on a plate,
its such a shame, they're all the same, I blame it on the Welfare State.
Present company excepted, they seem to need to shout it,
With that hair and the clothes they wear, can't bear to even think about it.
Present company excepted, well you wouldn't know it,
You look all right, appear quite bright, well you might be but you don't show it.

Present company excepted; do they really believe it?
All the fuss they make, for religion's sake, well me, I can take it or leave it.
Present company excepted, I'm sorry if I tread on your toes,
I want to make it clear, to all those here, you don't appear to one of those.
Present company excepted,..... Why has everyone departed?
Well it goes to show, they have to go, when they know that they've been out-smarted.

Roger Gall 1997.

Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread
From: katlaughing
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 10:56 AM

I think the threads were usually labelled as "Song Challenge."

Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 02:34 PM

Well, gee, I started a Mudcat Songbook PermaThread today. When I posted 001 by Amos, it was deja vu all over again, and I realized I had already started this project in January (and then run out of steam).

Mousethief volunteered to continue and perfect this project. Please note that this is intended to be a duplicate of Aine's Mudcat Songbook, so all other messages will eventually be deleted.
-Joe-

Subject: SB: Bitter Words by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 02:57 PM

Bitter Words by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments:  This is a song about that wonderful moment just before the sky falls on top of you.

Bitter words, sung sweetly
The whole truth, but not completely
Bitter words…. Sung sweetly by you
My world, broken in a minute
My life and all that's in it
My world…. Is broken in two
Bitter words, sung sweetly by you

I looked up to see the sun, instead I saw the moon
Somehow the words don't fit the tune?
When I first heard it, no wonder I got it wrong
I knew the singer but not the song
Well you sang so sweet, that music to my ear
It's just those words I don't want to hear
Your timing was OK and the place was fine
But, there's no right place and no right time

Bitter words, sung sweetly
The whole truth, but not completely
Bitter words…. Sung sweetly by you
My world, broken in a minute
My life and all that's in it
My world…. Is broken in two
Bitter words, sung sweetly by you

It don't matter how you disguise it, when you aim that low
It still feels like a hammer blow
If you don't see it coming you can't break your fall
You just take the full force of it all
I thought I was 'boxing clever', then I hit the floor
Like a fool I stood up for more
I thought we were only sparring, but this was the 'big show'.
Why was I the last one to know?

Bitter words, sung sweetly
The whole truth, but not completely
Bitter words…. Sung sweetly by you
My world, broken in a minute
My life and all that's in it
My world…. Is broken in two
Bitter words, sung sweetly by you

© Roger Gall 1999 

Subject: SB: Black Is The Colour (Of My True Love's Eye)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 02:58 PM

Black Is The Colour (Of My True Love's Eye) by Amergin

Amergin's Comments: ok...seeing the title of the Black Is The Colour thread...well it stuck in my mind....and so early this morning...I just wrote this parody....

Black is the colour of my true love's eye.
Dark are the bruises upon his thigh,
His lips are bloody, his nose is smashed,
From that black night I kicked his ass.

I met my love just outside the bar
We talked for hours neath the moon and stars
We spoke of love in the days to come,
And then he asked if we could be as one.

My heart did flutter and like a fool
I said yes I would wish that too,
Wrote my folks a letter just a few short lines
Telling to them it was real this time.

That next night as I walked by the shore,
I saw him there with a two dollar whore,
I watched as he softly kissed this girl
His hands caressing her soft blonde curls.

My heart did break and I began to moan
I started to yell I started to groan.
I rushed upon him and he fell down
And my screams were heard all over town.

Black is the colour of my true love's eye.
Dark are the bruises upon his thigh,
His lips are bloody, his nose is smashed,
From that black night I kicked his ass.

Subject: SB: Black Nylon Thread by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 02:59 PM

Black Nylon Thread by Amergin
(Tune: Black Velvet Band)

In the bright little town called Portland
A man sat hiding his tears
Behind his full glass in a pub
As he slowly counts back the years
To times of sorrow and happiness
And tomorrow he sees with dread
Picturing himself in the hallway
Hanging by a black nylon thread

Chorus:
And his eyes they were glazing over
As his life within him slowly fled
And bruises etched into his throat
As he hung by a black nylon thread

When he went back home that evening
The emptiness burned him inside
He saw the bare bed where once she lay
And he laid himself down and cried
He remembered the soft touch of her hand
As she gently stroked his damp head
Then he sees himself in the hallway
Hanging by a black nylon thread

(Chorus)

Next morning he opened his closet
He took the cord from off the floor
And he tied it to the ceiling fan
Thinking of the joyful times before
He quietly stepped from his chair
And his tongue lolled out his head
And he stood there swinging in the hallway
Hanging by a black nylon thread

(Chorus)

The very next day they found him
And the note laying upon the floor
Saying, "I'm sorry I'm no longer here
But I cannot take it anymore."
They cut him down from where he swung
From where his life had fled
And they carried him out in a bag
As dark as the black nylon thread

(Chorus)

©Nathan Tompkins

Subject: SB: The Black Velvet Band by Mbo
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 04:29 PM

The Black Velvet Band by Mbo
(Words by Mbo, Tune - Traditional)

Chorus:

Oh her eyes they shone like the diamonds
You'd think she was queen o' the land
And her hair hung over her shoulders
Tied up with a black velvet band

In a fair little city called Belfast
I found myself wand'ring around
An out-of-work young good-for-nothing
Looking for trade in the town.
But I had not the brains or the training
A high-paying job for to land
And I couldn't foretell all the trouble
That'd spring from a black velvet band.

So one evening late as I rambled
Through Belfast's less-prosperous hub,
I met with a girl angel-beautiful
Serving whisky and ale in a pub.
I told her right there I adored her
Oh, she held my heart in her hand
And she kissed me with lips red as roses
I was gone for the black velvet band.

I said we could leave there together
And be married by Father Jerome,
But she told me her thousand-pound fortune was locked
In a safe in her grandfather's house.
First we'd get it, and then we'd be married
With money more than we could stand;
I couldn't have known the misfortune that'd come
So I followed the black velvet band.

When we arrived at her granddad's house
It was locked and unlighted within;
She said he was on a trip to Cork
So she picked the door lock with a pin.
She managed to get the safe open;
We were leaving with money in hand
But an army of peelers arrested us
Bad luck to the black velvet band.

The judge said "We finally caught you, girl!
And your new accomplice friend.
You've robbed twelve other fine Belfast homes,
And it's here that your thieving will end.
I'm convicting you both in this matter
You're sailing for Van Dieman's Land
You can live out your best years together
This boy and the black velvet band."

So come all you jolly young fellows
Please take of this warning from me:
Whenever you're up around Belfast-town
Beware of those pretty colleens.
For here we are in Australia
Plowing the bush and the sand;
And the tie that binds us together
Is the knot in her black velvet band.

Matthew Richards (1999)

Subject: SB: The Blackboard Singer by Shimbo Darktree
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 04:30 PM

The Blackboard Singer by Shimbo Darktree
(Words:  Ian Clarke; Tune:  Blackboard of my Heart)

A young folk singer went down to a folk club Friday night,
He wrote his name up on the board, and hoped he'd spelt it right,
He'd practised his whole repertoire for three months and a day,
And both the songs were perfect, 'cause he'd tried them every way.

And the MC rubbed his name off from the blackboard on the wall,
He said, "We want those that we know, and we don't know you at all.
So take a hike, get on your bike, go home without a fuss,
The blackboard's for the older crowd, and you're not one of us.

You've not been singing thirty years, like many of us here,
Your hair's not grey, your cheeks don't sag, you don't drool in your beer,
You haven't got a midriff pot, so listen to me mate,
To get onto that blackboard, for thirty years you'll wait."

The young folk singer the next day went to his local bank,
And got a loan to start his own club with his best friend Frank (it rhymes!)
One year and it was a big hit, when through the teenage horde,
Came an ancient balding folkie, wrote his name up on the board.

And the MC rubbed his name off from the blackboard on the wall,
He said, "We want those that we know, and we don't know you at all.
So take a hike, get on your bike, go home without a fuss,
The blackboard's for the younger crowd, and you're not one of us.

The moral of this little tune should be quite clear to all,
If you long to sing your song at a club or in a hall,
Do not enrage those not your age by pushing in your snout,
Or, like my mate, your final fate will be to get rubbed out.

Subject: SB: Bloody Edward by Mbo
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 04:32 PM

WILLIE-O'S SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

Willie-O's Song Challenge:  The way the contents of Áine's Mudcat Songbook are ordered, the first song listed is my ballad "1743", because the index puts numbered titles in sequence first, then alphabetizes the rest.  So here's my challenge: write a song about a year or event which preceded 1743 AD, (as far back as 1742 BC actually), entitle it accordingly, and knock me out of the top spot! I dare ya!


Bloody Edward by Mbo

Mbo's Comments:  I wrote a song all about William Wallace's exploits after watching Braveheart, but know after reading the REAL history and finding out that the movie was a big crock of hooey (I HATE what they did to The Bruce) I don't sing it anymore . . . but if you want to see the historically inaccurate lyrics, I'll be glad to post them. BTW I kept the tune . . . it became "Robert The Bruce's March." It was the first Celtic song I wrote--and spawned the whole songwriting thing for me. Sins of my young age.


In days of yore, so long ago 
We marched out, to meet the hated foe 
So that our bonnie homeland would not go 
To the bloody English King, oh oh 
To Bloody Edward, King.

We met them on the field that day 
At Stirling bridge we had our say 
We drove the English foe away 
To our land come no more, no no 
To our land come no more

The valleys echoed with the sound 
Of many boots that shook the ground 
Our Highland pipes, they drove us on 
To claim what did to us belong 
The clan's old tartans there arrayed 
And claymores sharp in arms upraised 
'Cross places no one had been before 
Scotland's men--we go to war! 

We took the Highlands, we took the Low 
From the Isle of Skye to Edinburgh 
And places only Scotsmen know 
From the bloody English King, oh oh 
From Bloody Edward, King.

Sir William Wallace led our lot 
Through winter freezing and summer hot 
A grim and awesome force he wrought 
Against the bloody English king, oh oh 
Against Bloody Edward, King.

Well, Bloody Edward and his host 
They gave the wound that hurt us most 
At Falkirk our army was made a ghost 
By the bloody English king, oh oh 
By Bloody Edward, King.

The valleys echoed with the sound 
Of worn-out boots that tread the ground 
Our Highland pipes, they did not play 
As we retreated back the way 
That we had come so long ago 
The ways that only Scotsmen know 
'Cross places we had fought before 
The Scottish men return from war.

Well, we carried on the fight for years 
Both shedding blood and shedding tears 
Trying not to show our fears 
The the bloody English king, no no 
To Bloody Edward, King.

They captured Wallace--what an end! 
They hoped with torture then to bend 
His mind, instead he gave his head 
To the bloody English king, oh oh 
To Bloody Edward, King.

It was a horrid day for all 
But Robert the Bruce took up our call 
Again we march out straight and tall 
Against the bloody English king, oh oh 
Against Edward's son, the King.

The valleys echo with the sound 
Of many boots that shake the ground 
Our Highland pipes, they drive us on 
To reclaim what does to us belong 
The clan's old tartans there arrayed 
And claymores sharp in arms upraised 
'Cross places Death had seen before 
Scotland's men we go to war.

Well, we gained our freedom, gained our land 
With gallant Robert, we made our stand 
Yes we, the valiant Scottish band 
At Bannockburn we won, oh oh 
At Bannockburn WE WON!

Matthew Richards (1997)

Subject: SB: Blue Collar Blues by reggie miles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 06:47 PM

Blue Collar Blues by reggie miles

It's Friday night and I'm feelin' all right,
another weekend is finally here.
I've worked five long days,
for this two day break.
I think I'll have
another glass of cheer.

Cuz I'm a blue collar man.
I've got a nine to five job.
I've got a wife and two kids
and a dog named Bob.
I'm a blue collar man
workin' in a white collar world.

I rent a three bedroom house
with bills that won't quit
and a yard that I need to mow.
I drive a '74, 4-door, used oil guzzler with an AM radio.
And I ain't gettin' rich so I can't get ahead.
It's a struggle just to keep my poor family fed.

I'm a blue collar man, workin' in a white collar world.

If I had my way there'd be some changes made
to help the hard workin' family man.
I'd ship the jobs of those bureaucratic, bean countin' geeks
to a third world distant land.
And what a sight it would be to see them standin' behind,
all of me and my friends in the food bank line.

I'm a blue collar man, workin' in a white collar world.

Cuz if those white collar guys could walk a mile in my shoes,
you can bet they'd be singin' these ol' blue collar blues.

I'm a blue collar man workin' in a white collar world.

© Reggie Miles

Subject: SB: Bodie by Mudjack (Jack Roberts)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 06:48 PM

Bodie by Mudjack (Jack Roberts)


Theres no easy life for anyone in Bodie
Hard working people are the miners of town
Cold cold winters were known in Bodie
They sorted the ore, took the gold from the ground

refrain
OH BODIE, OH BODIE , WHERES ALL THE GOLD ?
OH BODIE, OH BODIE YOU LITTLE TOWN SO OLD

Many a miner dug his grave out in Bodie
Good God is it ever so cold out in mines
Many a lady sold her soul out in Bodie
It's a hard hard town where the sun seldom shines

ref rain

She sells her love for the gold out of Bodie
She's a cold cold woman who sells her soul
Theres a mighty cold wind that blows in Bodie
She's the only true love to the miners young and old.

repeat 2nd and 3rd verses

OH BODIE OH BODIE WHERES ALL THE GOLD
LITTLE WOMAN OF BODIE HAS GONE WITH THE GOLD

Subject: SB: Born On The Run by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 06:49 PM

Born On The Run by The Shambles

 The Shambles' Comments:  This was a song that I wrote about the life of the wildebeest (or the gnu).  It was suggested to me, after I had sung it once, that it was more about another certain two-legged mammal.

Born on the run
The wildebeest come
Running from dawn
To the setting sun
The travelling days are never done
Under the watching sky

Got to learn
From when you're torn
From your watery home
One the day you're born
A crashing ball, all hoof and horn
To stumble is to die

The advancing throng
Their lives, not long
The weak must perish, to enable the strong
To endure and pass the memory on
Under the watching sky

Born…On the run
Born…On the run
Born…On the run

Where to cross
Where to pass
Where to find those oceans of grass
Times of plenty, that will not last
Under the watching sky

There's no choice
Must follow that voice
That calls out loud, above the noise
Though river roar and rivers rise
Under the watching sky

The lion that hides
Needs to feed her pride
On the lost, the lame, the weak and the tired
The predator too, is driven inside
Under the watching sky

Born…On the run
Born…On the run
Born…On the run

Just part of the chain
The bones of the slain
Feed the soil, that covers the plain
New life, will follow the rains

Under the watching sky

© Roger Gall 1997

Subject: SB: Bouncing on the Bed by Trapper
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 06:50 PM

Bouncing on the Bed by Trapper
(Words and Music: Al Boyce 11/15/92)

           D       G         D     
   With my mom and dad still fast asleep
     G                D
   I kick my blankets in a heap
     G                  D
   I yawn and shake the cobwebs
           A   
   From my sleepy little head
    D      G     D
   Upon my bed I take my feet
        G                 D
   Then crouch and take a mighty leap
       G             D
   And start another merry morning
   A               D
   Bouncing on the bed
   

CHORUS:
Then it's up and down and all around
It's deep into my bed I bound
The fluff and feathers flying
Falling fast around my head
And I whoop and shout a joyful sound
And jump and pound my mattress down
Then take the heights, there's nothing quite like
Bouncing on the Bed!

Then my father opens up the door
And in a tired voice he roars
"Please cease your lusty leaping
Like a kangaroo!", he says
He stumbles back to sleep some more
And when I hear him start to snore
I cannot help returning to my
Bouncing on the bed!

Well time has passed, the years have flown
I have a house to call my own
I met and wooed my darling
On a summer's day we wed.
And now if by chance I hear a groan
And squeaking sounds that are well known
I'll go and join my babies while they're
Bouncing on the bed!

Subject: SB: Braunston Belle And The Number One (Shambles)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 06:51 PM

The Braunston Belle And The Number One by The Shambles


The Shambles' Comments:  Here is one about narrow boat life.


When I first saw my Rosie, my heart flew like a bird
Our eyes met at Braunston Junction, smiled but ne'r spoke a word
I watched, as she drifted on the lock-side, like a swan on Tixall Wide
Her hair, was plaited like a fender, head held up, so full of pride

Roses and castles, hearts and flowers
Counting the days, counting the hours

I asked for her hand in marriage and to her father we did run
But he'd vowed, that when she married, it would be to a Number One
My heart fell, when he started speaking, then Rosie, she held the floor
"I'll wed this man or no other, till then I'll work the cut no more"

Roses and castles, hearts and flowers
Counting the days, counting the hours

I swore, that to this place I'd not travel, not to see her work on the land
I may leave here a company man, but worthy will return to take her hand
She said, she would wait for me, there, each and every Whitsun Day
Years passed, and I would hear tell, of my Braunston Belle, from all who passed that way

Roses and castles, hearts and flowers
Counting the days, counting the hours

In time a Number One, I became, 'The Rosie' and the butty 'Ben'
Turned south, upon the 'Shroppie' for to see my Rosie again
As I passed, all the boat's would cheer, bright ribbons and bunting flew
They cleared all the flights for me, for it seemed the whole country knew

Roses and castles, hearts and flowers
Counting the days, counting the hours

The next time, I saw my Rosie, my heart flew like a bird
Our eyes meet a Braunston Junction, smiled but ne'r spoke a word
I watched as she drifted on the lock-side, like a swan on Tixall Wide
Dressed in white, in all her splendour, as she walked on to be my bride

Roses and castles, hearts and flowers
Counting the days, counting the hours

Roger Gall 1996

Subject: SB: Brigade by Mbo
From: Joe Offer
Date: 11 Aug 10 - 06:52 PM

Brigade by Mbo
(Words & Music by Mbo)

We come marching through town with our pipes a-blarin'
With our swords upraised and our eyes a-glarin'
The song that we sing might be one that you know
Beat down the overlord, move ahead, go
We don't let anyone stand in our way
We've heard enough of what you've got to say
This town won't be our first and it won't be our last
Block our path, and we'll just push past

We're moving 'cross the land at the speed of light
From the spark of dawn to the dead of night
We've got one million in our band, and many more to boot
We remove all our obstacles, we cut right to the root
We don't let the power-hungries block our road
We move right along, 'cause mister that's our code
Don't try to stomp us out, 'cause that'll be your demise
You're gonna see us fight and bite to win the prize

Just like Vercengetorix
At the Battle of Aleysia
Hey Hey, we wanna piece of ya!
Our ultimate plans our already layed
Just don't get in the way
Of our Brigade!

The people in the past who have hindered our lives
Will hear the rattling of sabres, and brandishment of knives
They think that they can crush us with a blow of their thumb
They try to limit our advancement, when we go and when we come
They think they've got us all in the palms of their hands
But we prove they are wrong, we uphold our demands
If they think that they can slow us down, they'd better think again
For we'll fight them forever like no one else can

Just like Vercengetorix
At the Battle of Aleysia
Hey Hey, we wanna piece of ya!
Our ultimate plans our already layed
Just don't get in the way
Of our Brigade!

Matthew Richards (1998)

Subject: SB: Bring The Peace Home by Kara
From: Joe Offer
Date: 12 Aug 10 - 02:08 AM

Bring The Peace Home by Kara
(originally posted in this thread)

He was born on the Orange side,
She was born on the green
While the white of the bandages
Fluttered in-between
He learned to play on the flute and the drum
While she took the fiddle and pipe
And nobody then would have ever believed it
One of these days they might

Break down the barbed wire
Walk out of the compound
And take their own lives by the hand
The sins of our fathers the fears of our mothers
Gone way beyond our command
This all is one country from Athens to Belfast
Oslo Dublin and Rome
And we are tired of the fighting the bitching back biting
It's time to bring the peace home,
Come and bring the peace home

They met up in London after leaving 
Their hometown for dead
It did not seam to matter there
What prayers psalms or mantras you said
And the tunes they played were the same tunes
Their rhythms easily entwined
Their old names were different then
Their new names as yet undefined

We will break down the barbed wire
Walk out of the compound
And take their own lives by the hand
The sins of our fathers the fears of our mothers
Gone way beyond our command
This all is one country from Athens to Belfast
Oslo Dublin and Rome
And we are tired of the fighting the bitching back biting
It's time to bring the peace home,
Come and bring the peace home

When they brought home their daughter
Their mother she did not want to know
Told them she was born in sin
And to hell she surely would go
Well I'll tell you, Mrs. Daly
If you would just open your mind
It was not in sin but in ecstasy
And I don't mean the chemical kind

We will break down the barbed wire
Walk out of the compound
And take their own lives by the hand
The sins of our fathers the fears of our mothers
Gone way beyond our command
We all are one people black white green or orange
Every girl man and boy 
And while all that God is giving
Is this one life for living mine
I am going to enjoy 

Subject: SB: Brittany's Lullaby by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 12 Aug 10 - 02:20 AM

Brittany's Lullaby by Amergin
(Tune: Sky Boat Song)

Chorus:
Sleep bonnie babe, like the flowers at rest,
As you lie in your mother's arms
Rock back and forth on the ocean's breast
Your smile reveals your charms

Your daddy's gone away, gone over the sea
Gone one week or ten;
But he will return, return just to see
His sweet little babe again.

(Chorus)

The moon shines bright, dancing at night
As you lie in your bed
Shadows on the wall in constant flight
Watched by your weary head

(Chorus)

Sleep little babe close your wee eyes
And sleep upon the shore
No longer, sweet babe, will you loudly cry
Daddy will sail no more

(Chorus)

As the years pass by your beauty unfolds
Watched by loving men
The day will come, soon I am told,
A woman will bloom again.

(Chorus)

© Nathan Tompkins (2001)

Subject: SB: Broken 'Okie' by the Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 12 Aug 10 - 02:21 AM

Broken 'Okie' by the Shambles


Live a life of 'Russian Roulette',
Running from that smoking gun.
To find the ones you leave behind you,
Ain't got nowhere to run.

If life is a sad story,
Then his was too hard to bear.
If Woody's 'Bound For Glory',
I hope, we'll all meet him there.

Woodrow Wilson Guthrie,
And his 'Fascist Killing Machine'.
It's 'Hard Travelling', Woody,
Still following the dream

Just a broken 'Okie',
Who's rambling days are done.
Won't be riding no more freight trains,

But, 'Railroad Pete' travels on,
Pete's, a tough little critter,
The kind you'd seek out as a friend.
You can tell he ain't no quitter,

He'll see it through 'til' the end.
Woodrow Wilson Guthrie,
And his 'Fascist Killing Machine'.
It's 'Hard Travelling', Woody,
Still following the dream

Roger Gall
Happy Birthday Woody

Subject: SB: Cambrian Colliery Disaster by bill\sables
From: Joe Offer
Date: 12 Aug 10 - 02:22 AM

Cambrian Colliery Disaster by bill\sables

bill's Comments:  I wrote this song in May 1965 just after hearing the news of a mine explosion in the Cambrian Colliery, at Tonypandy in South Wales, where thirty one miners were killed.


On the seventeenth day in the month of May in the year of sixty five
An explosion happened in the pit and miners lost their lives
Eight hundred and fifty feet down below these miners were found dead
While trying to earn an honest wage to keep their families fed

Two miles from the bottom of the shaft they worked behind the plough
They little thought that they would be amongst the angels now
But in that two foot eight inch seam a death trap 'twas no doubt 
The rescue men risked life and limb to get the bodies out

There were eighty men in the pit that day, thirty six were safe and free
Thirteen were injured, thirty one killed in the explosion at Tonypandy
A blast of air then dust and smoke, the explosion shook the pit head
The manager and his assistant they were counted with the dead

No one knows what caused it, electricity or gas
We only know it happened and these miners lives did pass
We never shall forget it, this disastrous pit in Wales
Along the Rhonda Valley near the town of Clydach Vale

The queen, she sent her sympathy to sweethearts and to wives
But this could not atone for the precious colliers lives
So think of these bold miners as in their graves they lie
And pray no more explosions will cause other men to die 

Bill Sables

Subject: SB: Candles In The Snow by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 12 Aug 10 - 02:24 AM

Candles In The Snow by Amergin

Two candles stand within the snow
Flickering amidst the whitened earth
Fighting the wind for the fragile life
Since the very moment of their birth

Two candles stand within the snow
Beating back the shadows of death
Silent whispers crying to the night
Sucking in the breezes gentle breath

Two candles stand within the snow
Their light reaches across countless lands
Filling the hearts of infinite homes 
They glint in the twirling frosted sands

Two candles stand within the snow
Filling my eyes with endless tears
Tears of hope, wishing they will
Continue to blaze for many years

But one candle gently flutters out
Held in a warm blanket of love
The other blazes ever brighter
Watched by a newborn star above

© Nathan Tompkins

Subject: SB: Captain O' My Heart by markf
From: Joe Offer
Date: 12 Aug 10 - 03:06 AM

Captain O' My Heart by markf
(Tune: O'Carolan's Captain O'Kane)

A.    It's a myth, so they say
        Emerald land where you will never age
        Stay forever young,
        in this place the ancients named Tír na nÓg
        As I search o'er the waves
        Blinded by the diamonds scattered there
        by the sun I know
        What I seek is 'neath my feet. Tir na Nog.

(repeat A as instrumental only)

B.    And we sail o'er the sea
        Ever young ever free
        Love is wind in our sails, love's
        the chart.
        To magic lands
        When the captain o' my heart stands at the wheel
        Tír na nÓg so real, eternity is now
        When he's with me

(repeat B as instrumental)

© Mark Flanagan

Subject: SB: Cead Mile Failte by Pinetop Slim
From: Joe Offer
Date: 22 Aug 10 - 03:00 AM

Céad Míle Fáilte by Pinetop Slim

Oh wizard, I beg, hear my plea
Sing me the road to the key
That can unlock a heart
Near to bursting apart
With music that yearns to be free
With music that yearns to be free

(And he said) Go where the mute swans do sing
Go where Scylla wears blue in the spring
Tote your case, full of hope,
Up a challenging slope
Turn the dragon's tail and he rings
Turn the dragon's tail and he rings

Chorus:
Céad míle fáilte, céad míle fáilte
Go where your need will be welcome
Céad míle fáilte, céad míle fáilte
A hundred thousand times welcome

Find a link to the great green necklace
Cross where Muddy River once raced
Hear elegant fingers delight silver strings
Where these words mark a magical place
Where these words mark a magical place

Chorus

Comes a day when your lessons are o'er
Though, Apprentice, you must learn much more
Make a friend out of time
Gentle touch sounds a chime
Let these words from an unlocked heart pour
Let these words from an unlocked heart pour

New Chorus:
Go raibh maith agat, go raibh maith agat
Let much good be upon you
Go raibh maith agat, go raibh maith agat
A hundred thousand times thank you

Copyright ©2000 Mark Flanagan

Subject: SB: The Chestnut Ward by McGrath of Harlow
From: Joe Offer
Date: 22 Aug 10 - 03:01 AM

The Chestnut Ward by McGrath of Harlow

McGrath's Comments:  I wrote a song after being in hospital for a knee operation a few years ago which seems to fit in here. It's on my website, with chords - but here are the words anyway: 

In the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night, 
propped up on your pillow 
you wait till it gets light. And though your body's aching, 
you know that it's all right, in the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night.

And over in the distance, in a little pool of light, 
there's a nurse, she'd busy writing
all that stuff they've got to write.
But you know that if you called her 
she'd be right there by your side 
and she'd tuck you in and give you stuff 
to help you feel all right,
In the Chestnut Ward...

And all around me sleeping are a bunch of broken men,
who came here to the Chestnut Ward 
to get patched up again,
and we've talked all day about our lives
and the choices that we made,
and it's hard to believe we only 
met each other yesterday.
In the Chestnut Ward... 

Old men who fought, so long ago, 
against the fall of night,
and one who went to prison, 
for he wouldn't go to fight. And one who had a comrade 
who was killed by Uncle Sam - and me, I was a baby then, 
in a shelter, in a pram.

Well, it's something like a prison camp,
and something like a jail,
and all of us are frightened men, 
though some are tough as nails.
And we all are tired and hopeful -
we're tired of all the pain,
and we're waiting till the morning
when we hope we'll walk again.
In the Chestnut Ward.... 

But they're closing down the Chestnut Ward, 
that's what the papers say.
And the people who have helped us here
will go their separate ways.
There's a cheaper way to so it, 
and the Chestnut Ward won't pay when you're getting back to basics 
in the modern kind of way.

Well the ones who'd close the Chestnut ward,
I'd cut them back to size.
I'd cut them into pieces, 
along with all their lies.
And I'd leave them lying broken -
and I wouldn't even care.
Still, perhaps they might get mended -
if the Chestnut Ward's still there.

In the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night,
propped up on your pillow 
you wait till it gets light. 
And though your body's aching, 
you know that it's all right,
in the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night.

And over in the distance, in a little pool of light, 
there's a nurse, she'd busy writing
all that stuff they've got to write.
But you know that if you called her 
she'd be right there by your side 
to tuck you in and give you stuff 
to help you feel all right.

In the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night, 
propped up on your pillow 
you wait till it gets light. 
And though your body's aching, 
you know that it's all right, 
in the Chestnut Ward, 
in the middle of the night.

(And thank God for the National Health Service, in spite of all they've done to wreck it.) 

Subject: SB: Chicago Blues by mousethief
From: Joe Offer
Date: 22 Aug 10 - 03:02 AM

Chicago Blues by mousethief

mousethief's Comments:  (I wrote this when I first moved to Chicago for grad school in 1983. I was very lonely. There was no internet then -- I think college kids have it easier in that respect nowadays than I did. The song is very bouncy. I play it in D, and I chord up and down the skinny 3 strings and play the fat 2 (muting the low "E" with my thumb) open (I guess I could tune it down to D -- never thought of that until just now!). The "Instr. break" I play at the 10th, 9th, and 7th frets in a sort of imitation of 12-bar chord progression. I'll have to record it and put it on my website so y'all can hear it.)

Well I just moved out this month, some people still ain't heard the news
Well I just moved out this month, some people still ain't heard the news
And I wish you was with me, and I wish I was there
Cos these blues is really gettin' too much to bear
And I wish that somebody could help me share
Chicago Blues. 

Well my friends are in Olympia, Seattle, Portland, Tacoma too.
Well my friends are in Olympia, Seattle, Portland, Tacoma too.
And I'm walkin' the streets of this unfriendly town
My collar's turned up and my face is turned down
And you can see plainly why I'm wearing a frown:
Chicago Blues. 

(instr. break) 

Well drop me a letter or a postcard, I hope you do.
I said drop me a letter or a postcard, I really hope you do, I hope you do, I hope you do.
Cos my mailbox is empty and my heart's in despair.
My address is the same, I ain't goin' nowhere
And I'm sittin' here shiverin' in my long underwear
Chicago Blues. 

(repeat instr. break) 

©1983 Alex E. Riggle. All Rights Reserved.

Subject: SB: Children Of Erin by Amos
From: Joe Offer
Date: 22 Aug 10 - 11:58 PM

Children Of Erin by Amos
(Tune:  The Foggy Dew)

I am but a child, of Erin born,
Where the Shannon's tide runs free 
Where the green hills stand on an ancient land 
Did my parents' love bear me 
And the world so sweet 
Heard my pattering feet 
As I reached a young girl's age 
Raised upon dark tales 
Of the banshee's wail 
And the blood of an ancient rage

In shaded glens, and the streets of men 
As a young girl I have grown 
Where the strangest song 
Was of dreams gone wrong, 
Of the keening and the widows' moans
For the boys and men, who have left our ken, 
To the hard guns lost were they. 
And the hardened hearts,
That most bitter part, 
Brought chills to a young child's days.

Could a girl, still young wish a brighter sun 
For her nation, whole, and new? 
Could a young child's dreams 
Ever speak to those 
Who had walked in the blood-red dew?
For the time does grow, as the new blood knows,
And to new hearts does unfold 
And where maidens wept,
May new vows be kept, 
That the children may grow whole.

Where fighting men died in mountain glens 
May the silent thistle grow 
Cold steel and hot blood 
Have done no thing good 
For an Irish daughter's soul.
Shall the shining light 
Of a promise bright, 
Touch the land where the Shannon flows? 
In each woman and man, may a true vow stand 
That the broken may now grow whole.

When my love I meet and our firstborn greet 
In a nearby future day, 
Should he need to know 
Of our deepest vows, 
Will he hear me gladly say 
That we gave our names
To a higher claim, 
Where the blood runs deep in the soul? 
And turned our hand to a kinder land, 
Where the children now grow whole.

©Amos H. Jessup (2000)

Subject: SB: Cloud Cuckoo Land by Schantieman
From: Joe Offer
Date: 22 Aug 10 - 11:59 PM

Cloud Cuckoo Land by Schantieman
(Tune: Fiddler's Green by John Connolly & Bill Meek (well, probably only one of them, but I don't know who wrote which bit!); New words by Steve Freedman 2000 - 2001 with help from Graham Holland)

Schantieman's Comments:  This was as a result of a challenge by Alison Underwood (of the Shellbacks) during the Mersey Shanty Festival 2000, just after I'd sung my parody of 'Dido, Bendigo'.  Try and stay with the Fiddler's Green tune for the last verse too!

As I walked by the schoolyard one morning in May,
With the children all laughing and shouting at play
I heard an old schoolteacher make this request:
"Oh, take me away from this terrible mess!"

Chorus:
Dress me up in my gown and my mortar
No more in the classroom I'll stand
Go tell my old colleagues (who're all alcoholics)
That I'll see them someday in Cloud Cuckoo Land.

Now Cloud Cuckoo Land is the place, so they say,
Where teachers will go when they've all had their day.
Where you sit in the staff room that's full of good cheer
With the Telegraph crossword and a pint of fine beer.

Where the board's always clean and the chalk doesn't squeak
And the books mark themselves without fail every week,
Reports are all written, the kids out at play
And the OFSTED inspection is far, far away.

Now I've been a schoolteacher for many's the year
And I've had little money for whisky and beer
But now I'm retiring with no gold in store
And I never will be a schoolteacher no more.

Copyright ©2001 S. J. Freedman

Subject: SB: Come Ye Back, My Love by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:01 AM

Come Ye Back, My Love by Amergin
(Tune: I'll Lay Ye Doon, Love)

Chorus:
Oh, come ye back, my love, I'll take your hand
Come ye back, my love, come back to me
Oh, come ye back, my love, I'll take your hand
Come ye back from across the sea

There is a town, by the Kootenai River
Settled in the midst of the northern hills
And as I was walking, upon the shoreline
I spied a young lass a-crying her fill

(Chorus)

I have a love, who's gone fishing up north
Among the deeps of the cold Bering Sea
And it's many a month since he's been gone
And I yearn for him to return to me

(Chorus)

Many's the day and night he trawled the water
Dragging the net behind "The Banshee",
But the storm it swept the freezing ocean
And swallowed my Willie into the sea.

(Chorus)

She opened the locket upon her breast
Inside lay a picture of her young man
Her teardrops stained his smiling face
As she walked slowly off the land

(Chorus)

To this day she still haunts my dreams
And I yet wake with a tearful sigh
I see her wading into the rushing river
Even now my ears echo with her cry

(Chorus)

Subject: SB: Country Boy by NamFrank
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:02 AM

Country Boy by NamFrank

In a quaint lil' town,with woods gathered `round,
Lived a young boy of Irish descent.
Full of young man's schemes and "pipe-cloud dreams",
But mostly of honest intent.
He liked quiet places and wide open spaces,
He liked to walk all alone.
So, oh, what a pity, that he yearned for the city,
For the country was always his home.
In his eighteenth year, giving way to his fear,
He gave two years to "Uncle Sam".
And with all of his might, he learned how to fight,
Staying a year in Vietnam.
Now this "military hell", with it's screaming shells,
It frightened him to the bone.
After the heat and the fear, for nearly a year,
This "country boy" finally came home.
Then he sat down in thought, but it all came to naught,
For he had been such a fool.
With your high IQ, some are wiser than you,
For some things aren't learned in a school.

Copyright ©K.F. Leight

Subject: SB: Crayon-Colored World by JL in Ozland
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:03 AM

Crayon-Colored World by JL in Ozland

JL in Ozland's Comments:  With thanks to Amos for coinage of the title -- this nostalgia trip is all his fault.

Whatever happened to all the colors
I knew when I was a girl?
The goldenrod days
And the cornflower nights
Flew by in kaleidoscope whirl.

Way back in the 50s, I thought that I had
A world that was shiny and new.
I wore penny loafers
And white bobby sox
And blue jeans that really were blue.

Pink poodle skirts were high fashion then
Rock and roll was a brand-new thing,
And "going steady"
Meant "almost engaged,"
And Elvis wasn't yet King.

My heroes back then were all "manly" men
Who strove for the "American Way."
Bad guys were easy,
They wore the black hats,
And no one was monochrome gray.

Roy Rogers and Trigger, Tonto and Scout,
"Hi yo, Silver, away!"
Pat and his Nellie,
Gene Autry and Champ--
Every Saturday, they saved the day.

The stars twinkled bright in cobalt blue skies
Untouched by the rumor of smog,
And under the lilacs
I played out the seasons
With my little chocolate brown dog.

Crab apple trees bore chartreuse fruit.
The mulberry trees were spring green.
A white sport coat
And a pink carnation
Were making the small-town scene.

The hot lemon sun in the Texas sky
Burned over the fields of maize,
And the old swimming hole
At Wolf Creek Bridge
Was only a turquoise haze.

Sometimes when my world is all muted hues
I wish I could visit back then,
With a brand-new box
Of 64 shades,
On my way back to grade school again.

© Lin Robinson

Subject: SB: CRAZYBIRD! by The Crazy Bird
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:04 AM

CRAZYBIRD! by The Crazy Bird

TCB's Comments:  (My Mudcat) moniker comes from a song-poem which came out of an experience I had when I was very, very down, and the song of a lark brought me back to a state of mind more bearable, or at least more stable <s> Here's the song-poem:

I'm just a crazy bird -- I have a hard time touching down,
It's hard for me to keep my feet -- there -- on the ground.
It's hard to find me with the unaided, naked eye
When I'm singing my songs up in the sky!
But, that I'm up there ! Could there ever be any doubt?
Where ever you go -- down there below --
you hear some poor boy in his agony shout:

CRAZYBIRD! Oh, CRAZYBIRD!

Won't you sing your song for me?
I'm just a poor boy headed for eternity . . .
I know I said eternity -- I might just have meant something else!
This earth can be a heaven -- this earth can be a hell!

I'm just a crazy bird -- I sing about the things I love the best:
The leafy trees, the windy breeze -- the eggs down there in my nest!
I try so hard to sing it all at once -- God knows how hard I try!
To sing of all that lives and loves -- and loves and grows and dies!
When you walk through the fields all on a summer day . . .
And the rye and wheat is standing, nodding,
golden white -- in the summer heat:

CRAZYBIRD! Oh, CRAZYBIRD!

Won't you sing your song for me?
I'm just a poor boy headed for e t e r n i t y . . .
I know I said eternity -- I might just have meant something else!
This earth can be a heaven -- this earth can be a hell!

© Chuck Cliff (1980)

Subject: SB: The Cuckoo Fleadh by Pinetop Slim
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:06 AM

The Cuckoo Fleadh by Pinetop Slim

There's a dijiridoo from the land of the kangaroo
And it's hummin' while some rasta man plays ska
It's a waste o' space, says the smilin' guitar ace
What's this dredlock rhythm bash at the fleadh
But the beat goes on 'til the day is done.
No one's sayin' No to music here.

We know Jackie Daley's name from Patrick Street acclaim
Around here he's a neighbor, he's a friend
And it's a pumpin' squeezebox scene
At a tiny pub called Green's
We're all hopin' that the session never ends.
And the night slips away on the slides he plays
No one's sayin' No to music here.

Chorus:
Along Kinvara Bay, first weekend in May
For three days this is where the cuckoo flies
To the pubs along the quay, the great ones come to play
For three days we feel the cuckoo's cheer.

Across the silver strings of his magic mandolin
Colfer's OfftoCalifornia touch is gold
Here's a song from Mulligan, then all join in the jam
Concertina, bodhrans and a piper bold
Ancient tunes play on 'til it's damn near dawn
No one's sayin' No to music here.

At the Merriman Hotel, Carson's playin' bloody well
But the horny crowd wants no hornpipes tonight
So he cuts loose with some pop, his trio gives 'em what they got
Kids are dancin' as we fall out the door
Woozy feet waltz on 'til the last pint's gone
No one's sayin' No to boozin' here.

(Chorus)

Coda :
From Connolly's to Flatley's
From the Pierhead to the Shawl
And don't forget good Winkle's, where Moylan rolled this ball
It's the Cuckoo Fest, and you'll get no rest
Your ears say you've got to hear it all
Your ears say you've got to hear it all
Your ears say…

Copyright ©2000 Mark Flanagan.

Subject: SB: The Cull by Spider Tom
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:06 AM

The Cull by Spider Tom

Spider Tom's Comments:  The definition of Cull is to kill numbers, of a species to limit their numbers.  Men do this to animals, men do this to each other, tragic but true.

And the order was sent, from Command, to the Front,
They were sending them out for the Kill.
Sprung out of the trenches, like hounds on a hunt, 
But dying like flies on the hill. 

In The Field, you own nothing, even Life's not your own,
Like the cloths on your back, you're on loan.
You're only a number, a "piece", in their Game,
Soldiers die, spill their blood to the stone. 

Chorus:
What a senseless waste of Life!
Just a stupid waste of Life!
War, a senseless waste of Life!
Devils' Darkness, steals the Light. 

Man, he learns little from, mistakes of the past,
Young men sent like lions, to the slaughter.
Where the choices aren't much, just to kill, or be killed,
And you'll fall first, if you falter. 

And there's many a business man, sat on the sidelines,
Counting the wealth, War has made him.
The vultures, the leaches, they sell to both sides,
In War, they're the only ones to win. 

The last thoughts of soldiers, lying, dieing in battle,
Most likely, go down the same path,
Last thoughts, of loved ones, or babies with rattles,
Are cut short by Death, Wars last laugh. 

We are programmed to Kill, or programmed to Cull,
Or be killed, or be culled, in the fight,
And years after battle, there's many a soldier,
Awakes, with a scream in the night. 

I dream of a day, when we lay War to rest.
Lay down the gun, and the spear.
A world, with a place for The Peace Dove to nest,
An end to the Culling and tears.

© Ken (Spider Tom) Robertson

Subject: SB: The Culling Fields by Willa
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:07 AM

The Culling Fields by Willa
(Tune: Bonny At Morn)

Willa's Comments:  This relates to the foot and mouth outbreak here in the UK

No cows in the meadow, no lambs being born
The flames light the skyline from dusk until dawn.
(Repeat first two lines of each verse)

Chorus:
Sleepless at night, dreading the morn
The flames light the skyline from dusk until dawn.

The valley is silent, the farmyard is still
And only the smoke pall moves on the far hill.

(Chorus)

Marooned, in isolation, our hopes are all dashed
The work of generations is all turned to ash

(Chorus)

New rules and regulations, when will they ever learn
They hinder our efforts at every turn

(Chorus)

We're all laid idle, and where shall we turn
The lad cannot work and the lass cannot earn

(Chorus)

Subject: SB: The Dark And The Light by Mbo
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:09 AM

The Dark And The Light by Mbo
(adapted from Robin Flower's translation of the Irish Gaelic poem by Richard Burke)


It seems to me this world has got some crazy notions now,
Like--girls that eyes of blue and hair of gold have been endowed
Are by and large, most beautiful--on no others will they gaze
And girls of darker hue and tint are worthy not of praise.

Myself, I do not hold with that, and never will it condone;
For I sing a song of better stuff the world has ever known;
I say that eyes alight with love to my knees will bring
And that I can be enthralled by eyes as dark as raven's wing.

Chorus:
I ask for no face of rosy-red
Or skin sun-tanned and brown
A pale complexion to me has grace
Like moonlight shining down,

I ask for no golden twining locks
All sparkling in the light
For curling jet-black tresses are
As fair as the sky at night.

O Helen was of golden braids, like sunbeams in her veil,
And in Troy 'tis said she caused a thousand ships to sail;
Oh, all for her was that proud city crushed unto the ground
Yet he mother was a beauty dark, and for that far-renowned.

And now at last the questions stands, and waits for some reply
"Of brown or gold, which is the one that we should raise more high?"
Oh, red-lipped, sweet-voiced, sparkling eyed, with hair the wind will blow
But which is fairer, dark or light, no one will ever know.

Chorus

Coda:
But is it so important that hair, and eyes, and skin
Will tell us who we should and shouldn't try their love to win?
The beauty of a person is not found in faces fair;
But mind and body as a whole reveals the beauty there.

Chorus

Matthew Richards (1998)

Subject: SB: Darkest Central Savannah River Taliaferro
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:10 AM

Darkest Central Savannah River Taliaferro by MichaelAnthony

Well the Big Creek housing hungry bass and trout
Ya gotta be a skillful man to get em out
But in Georgia Desolation there's nothing finer
Than catching Rainbow Trout without the sun shining
In Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

The thunder in the wood there make the children shout
And though they're young they wonder what this life is all about
Find them underneath an up-turned boat
And meanwhile they file an those kids already know it
Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

Cause people shake their heads as soon as you're out the door
Feel no use in trying anymore
Ya wonder which color God does keep the score
And will you ever be delivered
From Central Savannah River
From Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

Just because you're black you're automatically a minor
There's always something from the past to put behind ya
But in Georgia Desolation there's nothing finer
Than catching Rainbow Trout without the sunshine
And if there rains a silver liner
It's in the clouds when you're delivered
Far from Dark Savannah River
Far from Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

You hang on something older brother wrote
You're gonna haf to stand up in the boat
An If you can't swim make sure you're gonna float
And keep it dry and don't cry on the paper where I wrote it
Darkest McDuffie Hancock Burke and Warren Jefferson
Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

(Harmonica)

Savannah River dark due to the mercury plant
And to work there you must not favor the color of an ant
If you try to do something there the people just tell you that cha can't
There's no god that made a woman fine and strong that she could stand it
So if you can't swim you better float
In Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

Cause people shake their heads as soon as you're out the door
Feel no use in trying anymore
Ya wonder which color God does keep the score
And will you ever be delivered
From Central Savannah River
From Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

Now they're moving 'gainst Savannah River flow
When you stand up seems impossible to row
But you can see there where lie the larger part of it
300 hearts and souls have put a good start to it
Yet some politicians would never be concerned with it
So if you wanta be somebody there you better throw it
You better use your aching head if you go with it
You will certainly never fall in love with it
But if you can't swim make sure you're gonna float
In Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

Now every man's gotta root another chance
You've got to play the game and always wear the pants
And just how you reckon they get to other planets
Leavin Darkest Savannah River Georgia Taliaferro
Darkest Savannah Jefferson
Hancock Burke and Warren
Central Savannah River
Bless the clouds when you're delivered
Far from Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

A song is just something that happens over time and then it's gone
But Georgia Desolation is something THAT GOES ON AND ON.
Every day you need a drink a little stiffer
And there's no one you would want to bring gifts to ya
Just to open up their fists for ya
And help with what you figured:
A way to be delivered In Central Savannah River
In Darkest Savannah River Taliaferro.

Subject: SB: Dead Man Walking Blues by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:12 AM

Dead Man Walking Blues by The Shambles


The Shambles' Comments:  There has been some discussion in various threads lately about capital punishment, rather than respond in those, I thought I would start a new thread for songs on this emotive subject. Not very seasonal but with the current situation in Iraq, I for one do not feel very seasonal.   It begs the question, would it be right to kill an individual like Saddam and others, if you knew that by doing so you could prevent the pain and suffering that people like that cause?  This song is strange, the first time I heard the title of the book/film, Dead Man Walking and before I knew what it was about, I knew I would write a song with that title. About six months later and some time after I had seen the film (which is a great film) I wrote the song. It’s a blues, on the lines of ‘Hootchie Cootchie Man’.


My lips are dry, I can’t talk
I’ve got to steel myself for one last walk
I can’t run with these chains, you see
There’s no hurry, they won’t start without me
Dead man walking, the star of the show
Dead man walking, away from death row
Dead man waking, walking slow

You may say, all my life I’ve been no good
I would have done better, if only I could
But up to now no one noticed me
Now I see myself on the T.V.
Dead man walking, the star of the show
Dead man walking, away from death row
Dead man waking, walking slow

My performance may make the news
But I won’t be around, to read the reviews
Ain’t up to me who they invite
Who will watch my first and last night?
Dead man walking, the star of the show
Dead man walking, away from death row
Dead man waking, walking slow

The good book may say it but it don’t mean it’s the truth
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth
I did wrong on that fateful night
But two wrongs, they won’t make it right
Dead man walking, the star of the show
Dead man walking, away from death row
Dead man waking, walking slow

My deed was in the heat of that hour
But it don’t excuse the abuse of my power
But the cleaner you try to make my death seem
Just seems to make it more obscene!
Dead man walking, the star of the show
Dead man walking, away from death row
Dead man waking, walking slow

Dead man walking, the star of the show
Dead man walking, away from death row
Dead man waking, walking slow

Roger Gall 1998

Subject: SB: Death Row Caddy I by MichaelAnthony and Dirty
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:13 AM

Death Row Caddy I by MichaelAnthony and Dirty

When I left Jonesb'ro Georgy, had love 'uns callin' me back
But I stubburn left for Texas in my death row Cadillac

An' on the way 'I shoulda stayed' keep Georgy on my mind
But moving thru the highways is sompin' that feel right

Now just outside of Birmingham my thermostat it blow
My thumb or sompin' dangerous walk 8 miles To and Fro

Found a-honky-tonk in Tulsa where they eye me with suspicion
So not to disappoint no one I leftT there with ouT Payin

I lay some late nights in Tulsa jail but every day I kneel
Yet them jailers kep' my money my-old Jonesb'ro-cottage they steal

When I roll it into Lubbock fill 'er-w' gift gasoline
Found a bargain lot an sold the lousy wreck it make me mean

I work some in the kich'n but gettin' to the Mission too late
Drunk-I try my hand at gamblin' an that gamblin' come to stay

I won my share of fast despare but I kep' my own place clean
Yet the people in that city see me like I some disgrace

An I remembrin' Oklahomia an' I never ever been burn twice
So I hit the police grab me when he find the heap I won

And I could've done Just Nuthin' an savin' me doin time
But Nogood is a given and I remembrin ' Tulsa time

Then my first time there in prison though I seen my share of jail
If you think it hard in prison it worse than life in hell

Had 2 or 3 diff'rent cellmates an' one of 'em he die
Say-he-need some medicine the prison say he lie

An da third one go to death row so dark afta his trial (lonesome)
Admitin' that he did it but it weren't like what they testify

I ax him what words he say when allowed his final breath
It's 'there never been a rich man in America put to death'

If I could just undo one day back up that settin' sun
Be back in Alabama when that lousy wreck break down

Subject: SB: Death Row Caddy II by MichaelAnthony and Dirty
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:15 AM

Death Row Caddy II by MichaelAnthony and Dirty

Or be talkin' to the salesman 'bout that car an I say no
Jus to-be-back in Jonesbro-Georgia in that lonesome cottage home

An'-I-had-a-turn, I can't return Have a sister in Atlanta
An' beg her for her housin' never have my name on paper

Say a good god never make a man who cannot do
In this old sinful world it heartache showin'on a few

An' sometimes I will paint but not outdoors or all of the day
An' I don't have a car no more is it safe it now that I pray

Then I'll always drive a Corvette not the death row Cadillac
An' if they come to find us then I'm Dirty or I'm Jack

An' when they come at me gain cuff commutted this I fear
Cant-do-nothin kep trine kill me but I keep trine what ye hear.

If I could just undo one day back up her settin' sun
Be far from Alabama when that lousy wreck break down

Subject: SB: The Dinosaurs . . . by McGrath of Harlow
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:16 AM

The Dinosaurs . . . by McGrath of Harlow

McGrath's Comments: Here's one I wrote this morning for a thread I started about dinosaurs after going to see Jurassic Park III:


Well you had best be wary
of the Cassowary
with its claw that's reaching for your nuts
And you will wonder whether
underneath those feathers
there's a raptor hungry for your guts.
Well they may say for sure
there's no more dinosaurs,
But you will find they overstate that case -
it's no good being pedantic
when you are feeling frantic
with a dinosaur right in your face.

And my young sister Sue
she had a cockatoo,
it could sing a pretty song indeed,
but if you reached your finger
to that feathered singer,
he knew how to make that finger bleed.
Oh he could sing in chorus,
this young Cockasaurus,
but the motive for his merry screech
was to charm, then slaughter,
and to give no quarter
any fool who came within his reach.

And I once knew a goose,
and someone let her loose,
and she swaggered round and round till dark,
and with her savage hissing,
there was not much missing
to remind us of Jurassic Park.
And when I tell the story
of these birds so gory,
there's a moral there without a doubt,
for if you think at all
you'll know they're not extinct at all -
I think these dinosaurs will see us out.

© Kevin McGrath 23rd July 2001

Subject: SB: Donning The Red by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:17 AM

Donning The Red by Amergin

"Dinner is ready," the mom yells out
He sits before his corn meal mush
And pours on the baby formula
Sinking his spoon into the slush
"I don't want this again," he complains
"Eat it or not, that's all we got"
Bemused, he forces it down his throat
As the ladle descends into the crusty pot

Chorus:
But a spark of anger stirs in him
As he loses his faith in the Boss

He jumps up eagerly from his bed
And runs out to the Christmas tree
To find no presents upon the floor
And cries out in tearful pleas
His mom says, "Dad's not working
Be glad you have a roof over your head"
"This house barely keeps out the cold"
"You could be outside, freezing or dead"

Chorus:
And the spark of anger burns brighter
As he loses his faith in God

He sits before the fireplace, gazing
At the ice forming on the window panes
Huddled in his coat and blanket
Seeing the snow on the gravel lane
"Your dad's doing his best for us
The bills are too high, the wages too low"
He shivers and watches kids outside
Playing in the subzero snow

Chorus:
The anger burns into a flame
As he loses faith with the government

Now he stands, grown, watching
Bankers force his family from their home
Wondering what they'll do now
And wherever will he now roam?
"How can you take this house from us?"
The bankers just make jokes and sneer
"Maybe next time you'll pay what you owe"
They all laugh as he drops a tear

Chorus:
The fire of anger burns brighter in him
As he dons the red flag of freedom

Subject: SB: Down On Barky's Farm by Bert
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:25 AM

Down On Barky's Farm by Bert

Chorus 1:
down on Barky's Farm 
down on Barky's Farm 
There are sausages on trees and they're swaying in the breeze 
down on Barky's Farm

We've got cotton sheep and Nylon sheep and polyester sheep 
and they grow the silk pajamas that you wear when you're asleep 
and they graze upon the Astroturf that grows by Barky's Creek 
down on Barky's Farm

Chorus 2:
down on Barky's Farm 
down on Barky's Farm 
and there's chickens with three legs laying colored Easter Eggs 
down on Barky's Farm

We've got flocks and flocks of variegated porcupines 
Some of them grow toothpicks instead of nasty spines 
and some of them grow corkscrews for opening your wines 
down on Barky's Farm

Chorus 3:
down on Barky's Farm 
down on Barky's Farm 
To grow donuts we plant rows and rows of Cheerios 
down on Barky's Farm

We've a great big herd of pumpkins, some are big and some are small 
You really ought to join us for the roundup in the fall 
We catch 'em and we brand 'em and we sell 'em from a stall 
down on Barky's Farm

Chorus 1... All together now! 
Chorus 2... ONE more TIME 
Chorus 3... 

Bert Hansell (2000)

Subject: SB: Down On the Border by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:36 AM

Down On the Border by The Shambles


The Shambles' Comments:  I put this one in the Xenaphobia Thread, but it probably sits here just as well.


Down on the border, where do you draw that line?
Well here I can lay down my life for a land that will never be mine
If I was standing on the outside, you wouldn't let me in
It might be my religion or the colour of my skin

Down on the border, when you draw that line
Am I standing inside, or am I left outside?

They're telling you life should be rosy, "ain't you living in your own backyard"?
The stakes are getting higher, time to play that nationalist card
That joker's a wild one, eager to get out of the pack
It ain't so easy, trying to get the bastard back

Down on the border, when you draw that line
Am I standing inside, or am I left outside?

Does the fruit really taste better, just because it's home grown?
Why should there be an improvement, when we are ruled by one of our own?
When they come and they tell you. it's time to make a stand
Remember the good and the bad apples, growing on your land

Down on the border, when you draw that line
Am I standing inside, or am I left outside?

Whatever country claims you, it's no measure of your worth
You can take no credit, it's just an accident of birth
Why not strive for a union, a federation of states?
Sustained by co-operation, where nations are maintained on hate

Down on the border, when you draw that line
Am I standing inside, or am I left outside?

Roger Gall 1997

Subject: SB: The Downieville Nugget by harpgirl
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:37 AM

The Downieville Nugget by harpgirl

Come gather round people I've a story to tell
About a gambler from Reno that I know so well
In a card game in Reno he bragged he could steal
A nugget of gold in old Downieville

Eleven pounds weighed that nugget
Makin Downieville's name 
A subject of interest
In a thousand card games 

Then a bushwhacker challenged him
To show proof of his claim
Bring the Downieville Nugget
Back here to this game

Oh a gambler loves a challenge
He lives for a thrill
No woman could hold him
With a dare to fulfill

He rode into our city that very next day
And from his bold purpose he could not be swayed
Down into the valley in the old mining town
Tin roofs on the houses shown bright in the sun

We met by the river and he spun his bold tale
He thrilled me with stories till tremblin I fell
Oh a gambler is charmin I fear that I'm right
He takes what he wishes don't put up a fight

He saw that huge nugget in the old courthouse safe
In Judge Downie's chambers that very same night

He showed back in Reno 
One week to the day
Smilin a wide smile the bushwhackers say

Boys I didn't get it, I lied for the thrill
But I got me a lady in old Downieville
I'm gonna get rich boys and straight way go round
To stake my claim on that lady I found

Well the boys had their laugh
But the gambler laughed to
Sayin deal me a hand boys I've gamblin to do

Next spring he went a courtin in Downieville town
It was Judge Downie's daughter
Who finally came round

He married her proper where they met by the shore
Laughin and lovin e'r after and more
Oh a gambler loves a challenge I know awfully well
I'm the old judges's daughter
A gambler myself

Subject: SB: The Drunkard King by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:46 AM

The Drunkard King by Amergin

The pitcher's on the bar
The glass is in my hand
The fag is in the ashtray
I'm in that wonderful land
Known as Tir-na-nog
The land of eternal youth
The beer in my belly
Slowly begins to sooth
The warmth rises to my head
I forget the sorrows of the day
As I feel this great uplifting
There's only one thing I can say:

Drunkenness is my only virtue
The pub is my second home
The taps and bottles are my subjects
The barstool is my throne

The band begins to play its jig
Lonesome songs of yearning
As they strike the first chord
The masses begin their churning
As I slowly drink in
The great water of life
I scan this mystic land
It is empty of all strife
As I sit on my drunken throne
The faeries around me prance
My feet stomp with the drums
Longing to join the dance
Suddenly I laugh and yell
So fucking loud and clear
Every head turns toward me
Their ears straining to hear
As the barman sadly tells me
That I cannot stay
But that's alright for me
Tomorrow is another day

Because:

Drunkenness is my only virtue
So, remember when I sing
That the taps and bottle are my subjects
For I am the drunkard king!

Subject: SB: Duct and Cover by reggie miles 2003
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:47 AM

Duct and Cover by reggie miles 2003

reggie's Comments:  I just got around to reading that duct tape thread from last month and my last remaining brain cell managed to squeeze out this little dittie. Submitted for your approval.


The threat of war is loomin',
Anthrax bombs may soon be zoomin',
To your bedroom in the suburbs but don't despair.

From deep within his mountain bunker,
Where Gee Dubbya's gonna hunker,
A solution to our dilemma he's sure to share.

Our best scientific minds,
Were charged to seek and find,
An all American answer to our plight,

And with the billions spent,
On research by government,
They finally discovered one that works just right.

Yes they've found it girls and boys.
Protection from those evil toys,
Affordable and available throughout the land,

Yankee ingenuity,
Has triumphed once again you see,
Providing health and safety to every woman, child, and man.

And what miracle is this,
That secures our freedom bliss,
And ensures all our blessed liberties?

What treasure is it, made by man,
That can do, what no other can,
This creation of our modern technolullogies?

It's the simplest things they say,
That can always save the day,
And it's oh so very true in this case too.

You needn't build a big bomb shelter,
You can avoid the helter skelter.
Listen closely here is what they say to do.

Just duct tape and cover your windows and your door,
With plastic sheeting you can buy at any hardware store.

It's an easy thing to do no matter if you're rich or poor,
And much cleaner than crawling 'neath your desk down on all four.

It's a lesson we've all learned in school, fifty years ago.
When we feared that the idea of droppin' A-bombs would grow.

They've changed the words to suit our times.
Instead of duck and cover rhymes.

Now we just duct tape and cover instead.

It kind of makes you wonder,
Why Gee Dubbya's way down under,
Neath the mountain in his little hidy hole.

When all he needs to do,
Is just follow me or you,
To buy some plastic sheeting and some duct tape by the roll.

Then he could duct tape and cover his windows and his door,
With plastic easily bought from any hardware store.

No need to kiss his butt goodbye,
When missiles fall down from the sky,

When he can duct tape and cover instead.

Subject: The Endless Roads by McGrath of Harlow
From: Joe Offer
Date: 23 Aug 10 - 12:51 AM

The Endless Roads by McGrath of Harlow
(For the chords, click here)

McGrath's Comments:  A song about what is chillingly called "ethnic cleansing" these days.  When I wrote this it was happening in another part of what had been Yugoslavia.  Now it's Kosovo.  But the list in verse two could (and has) included so many places.  Today's refugees turn into tomorrow's persecutors.  Croats who've been driven from their homes in turn drive out Serbs who in turn drive out Albanians, who frive out Serbs.  Survivors of the Holocaust drive Palestinians from their homes.   I wish I could believe that this is a song that wouldn't keep on being topical.  The tune I sing it to is not unlike that of "The Bleacher Lassie of Kelvinhaugh", which would be a good tune to use for it anyway.


Chorus:
Here is a journey without an ending, 
Through rugged mountains and snow and ice.
Can there be victory in such a struggle?
Can there be freedom, at such a price?

To our lost homes there is no returning,
the stranger dwells where we lived so long
and a bitter taste now is all that's left now
of that lost land which is forever gone.
A last farewell now to all we've known now,
now, we turn our backs as we turn the wheel.
We turn our backs now on our burning homes now,
the broken past and the killing fields.

Here is a journey without an ending, 
through rugged mountains and snow and ice.
Can there be victory in such a struggle? 
Can there be freedom, at such a price?

From Sarajevo to far Soweto,
from Guatamala and Belfast,
from Sad Kosovo, and the Warsaw Ghetto,
with empty hands, and a heart of glass.
To Babylon we were carried captive, 
from Palestine, where the stranger rules, 
we eat our bread now in this house of exile, 
where the strong grow weak, and the wise are fools.

Here is a journey without an ending, 
through rugged mountains and snow and ice.
Can there be victory in such a struggle? 
Can there be freedom, at such a price?

And those who'd kill us were once our brothers, 
and those who help us may yet be foes,
to take their turn place on this wheel of hatred, 
that drives us out down those endless roads. 
And so it goes, will it be forever 
till the wheel stops and the madness ends? 
Look down in pity on this world of exiles, 
and teach us some way we can start again.

Here is a journey without an ending, 
through rugged mountains and snow and ice.
Can there be victory in such a struggle? 
Can there be freedom, at such a price?

Kevin McGrath - 12th May 1993