For Art 'n' Amos 'n' Joe 'n' all others who care, transcribed from the cassette he sent me:


(spoken)

Oh...it is now twenty after eleven at night on March the 15th, 1997. I was going to bed early. Instead, I'm sitting here.....the ink isn't wet on this sucker yet! I had this recorded, but then I realized I wanted to change a couple of words here and there, so you're getting a version of this that's....as I said, the ink isn'twet on the page yet. I haven't made the changes in print. I't's called "Dover To Dundee". I just finished it today. I started it a couple of weeks ago..........


DOVER TO DUNDEE

O, fare thee well, Old John Barleycorn,
Companion of my days.
The times of thistle. rose and thorn
To rough and rowdy ways.
We turned our hands to every task
We've answered to the roll
Drained every cup and every cask
And fathomed deep the bowl.

For when I had a golden thread
As fine as I could sew,
I'd sew my truelove to my coat
And down the road I'd go.
I'd drink my fill in every town
From Dover to Dundee
And never see the sun go down
In sober company.

I lost my heart, I lost my head,
Likewise my watch and chain
My needle and my golden thread.
I lost my love in vain.
I fell asleep each night to chase
The horse who wears the horn,
But only ever found the face
Of Old John Barleycorn.

And so I found a flask of gin
And sugar here for two.
A silver bowl I mixed it in
and poured a drink for you.
I built a fire in the dark
As fine as I could frame,
For I could play sweet Joan Of Arc
And you could be the flame

I held the ocean in my hand
To mark me through the year.
I counted every grain of sand
As each became a tear
And as each tear became a coin
And every coin a star
Heard every voice in Heaven sing,
"There's whiskey in the jar"

And still the promise seemed to rise
As certain as the sun
God yet may turn with loving eyes
To every counting done.
Her mercy on the dancing man
On yonder gallows tree
And sanctify each drunken mile
From Dover to Dundee.

O, fare thee well, Old John Barleycorn
Companion of my days.
The times of thistle, rose and thorn
to rough and rowdy ways.
We turned our hands to every task
We've answered to the roll,
Drained every cup and every cask
And fathomed deep the bowl


Again, For The Roses,
Severn


Could you make me a copy of that cassette, Art, and I'd run you off the two songs that not on the CD in exchange?