Subject: DTCorr: Keweenaw Light (Craig Johnson)
From:
Joe Offer
Date: 10 Nov 03 - 04:51 AM
Hi, Denise - I hope you don't mind that I moves you over here so we don't split the Craig Johnson discussion up too much. I'd bet Art Thieme can help you find Craig Johnson if you send him a personal message (click).
In this message, Art said he was the first to record three of Craig's songs, including "Keweenaw Light." it's on his That's The Ticket album, recently reissued by Sandy and Caroline Paton's Folk-Legacy Records. Here are Art's notes and the lyrics from the album's booklet. Note that the lyrics are somewhat different from those in the Digital Tradition. Maybe Art can tell us if the lyrics below are completely accurate.
I haven't been to the Keweenaw Peninsula for a long, long time. What a beautiful place!
-Joe Offer-
THE KEWEENAW LIGHT
(Craig Johnson) Side 1, Band 5.
The Keweenaw Peninsula of Upper Michigan hooks northward from the south shore of Lake Superior like a hitch hiker's thumb. Some of the highest grade copper and iron ore in the world was taken from the deep mines of Mich igan's Upper Peninsula. The early part of the century was the boom era. But now the mines are closed and the head— frames rust in the fields as reminders of more prosperous times. The boomers have left the area, but the hearty folk who remain enjoy life in the midst of some of the most beautiful scenery in America.
Craig Johnson, a fine fiddler, banjo picker, poet and songwriter, combines nostalgia with the stark realism of hard times to capture it all in this beautiful song.
I have travelled that country
From the Keweenaw headlands,
Where the wild gulls do cry
From the rocks to the sea,
O'er the cold inland ocean
To the Manitou Islands,
Far away from my home,
Strange places to see.
And the stars they shine bright
On the south shore tonight,
And the Keweenaw light
Sweeps over the bay.
And, if dreams could come true,
I'd still be there with you,
On the banks of cold waters
At the close of the day. I have drifted through the boomtowns
Of a century dying,
Past the ruins of the smelters
And the rusted headframes,
Down through Mohawk and Ahmeek,
Centennial and Laurium,
And a hundred sad places
That have passed without names.
And the stars they shine bright...
I have counted the cross-ties,
The dry bones of the railroad,
They stretch from the sunrise
To the close of the day.
And I have counted the miles
Between me and my true love,
The lies and the highways
That carried me away.
And the stars they shine bright...
Oh, the leaves have turned gold
And the summer's nigh over;
The wild geese sweep low
Over Lake Manganese.
In that faraway country
You walk by slow rivers,
Alongside cold waters
'Neath the whispering trees.
And the stars they shine bright...
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sj
