EARTH Song List
1 - The Doctor - The Black Cook
2 - The Barden of England - Why?
3 - Mary Humphreys and treewind - Pan O'wn y Gwanwyn
4 - michaelr - The Thingama Jigs
5 - MtheGM - The Farm Servant
6 - treaties - Willy Taylor
7 - stallion - Ratcliffe Highway
8 - Mysha - Catalunya Spirit
9 - VirginiaTam - The Minstrel
10 - Guy Wolff - The Dreadnaught
11 - Janie - Little Sally Walker Down in New Orleans
12 - Tootler - Catherine Ogle/Childgrove
13 - Joe Offer - Long, Long Ago
14 - Genie - Ivah's Song
15 - Crane Driver - Harriet Lane
16 - Stewart - Long Cookstown
17 - Will Fly - Mazurka d'Auvergne
18 - John Hills - The A320 Disaster
19 - My guru always said - Where Ravens Feed
20 - henryclem - Needle and Thread
21 - George Papavgeris - Esperanza Waits Above
Many thanks to Genie for her work in compiling this information.
All lyrics are the property of their authors. Used by permission. Unauthorized usage is prohibited.
Lyrics for EARTH CD
1. The Black Cook (Trad.) - The Doctor
Peter Taylor (The Doctor): Voice
"The Black Cook" dates from a time, before the Anatomy Act of 1832, when doctors
had to rely on the bodies of criminals and paupers for dissection, and some were tempted
to supplement the supply by buying illegal corpses, no questions asked. Hence the rise of the
Resurrectionists and mort-safes, not to mention Burke and Hare. The origins of the song are unclear,
but Roy Palmer thinks it may have originated in Ireland. I got it from Dave Burland's first LP,
and Martyn Wyndham-Read says Dave got it from him.
From the CD Damn Your Eyes, Doctor! The Black Cook and Other Traditional Songs
www.peter-taylor-folksinger.co.uk.
If you'll listen a while, I will sing you a ditty
Concerning of a doctor who lived in Carrtown;
By seamen so bold he was fairly outwitted
And fifty gold guineas was forced to lay down.
These jolly jack tars and their comrades in grog,
Their money bein' spent and their credit far gone,
From Fairport right down to the quayside had rambled
In search for to find a bit money for fun.
Now the cook of our ship bein' one of their number,
A bold lad was he, and his colour was black;
For wit and for wisdom he always was ready
To think of a way to get cash in a crack.
Then up spoke the Cook, "I've heard people say
A corpse might be sold quite easily here.
Come take me alive, tie me up in my hammock
And sell me to buy all your whiskey and beer."
His comrades were glad to accept of his offer
And it's away to the house where the doctor did dwell,
And into his ear they most softly did whisper
Saying, “Doctor, we have a fine corpse for to sell."
Well, the doctor cried out like one in amazement,
"Oh, where did you get him? Come, tell me, I pray!
Come bring him and fetch him unto me this evening
And fifty gold guineas to you I will pay!"
The sailors were glad to accept of his offer
And it's back to the ship where they quickly did steer.
And now pay attention to all I may mention
And the rest of me story you quickly shall hear.
They took the black cook, tied him up in a hammock
But he being a lad both steady and strong,
It's under his coat by way of protection
He's carried a blade about half a yard long.
Now it's 'round about dusk when the streets were deserted
These sailors struck out with the cook on their back.
When they came to the house where the doctor resided
It's in a dark room they concealed that poor black.
The doctor came down and he paid out their money.
They told him the cook, he had died out at sea,
And rather than have his dead body to bury,
"We've sold him to you, sir; he's out of our way."
The doctor soon went for some tools to dissect him
And then he came down with a saw in his hand.
When he came to the room where the cook had been lying,
There boldly did Jack stand with cutlass in hand.
The Doctor cried out as one in amazement
O'er the thought that the black cook was a mighty rich prize.
In a voice loud as thunder Jack boldly did blunder,
Saying, "Damn your eyes, doctor, I'll skin you alive!"
Now, the doctor was forced to retreat in a hurry
And of his late bargain was soon to lament,
While Jack hurried off to where his comrades were drinking
And the rest of that evening was merrily spent.
2. Why? - The Barden Of England
Written by John Barden © 2000
John Barden (The Barden Of England): Guitar, voice
My wife said that this is my protest song, and who am I to disagree?
From the CD Head for the Hills
www.johnbarden.co.uk
Why worry about tomorrow when tomorrow never comes?
Why fill yourself with sorrow when joy within you runs?
Softly, slowly, listen hard, you’ll find
Deep down in there an inner peace of mind,
So don’t be blind.
Why talk of all this fighting, when it always leads to war?
So many wrongs need righting; tell me what they do that for?
Can’t they just see it’s all a waste of life,
Each one precious to a mother, father, wife,
Child of strife.
Why fill our air with gases when it’s none that we can breathe?
Why impoverish the masses when they’re just the ones we need?
Give of yourself; compassion is a start.
Soon you’ll notice the world of which you’re part
Cross my heart.
Why is our planet dying when it’s all been done for greed?
Why are politicians lying when there simply is no need?
Just once, maybe, they’ll think of you and me.
No self interest; just let the people be
Wait and see!
Why worry about tomorrow when tomorrow never comes?
Why fill yourself with sorrow when joy within you runs?
Softly, slowly, listen hard, you’ll find,
Deep down in there, an inner peace of mind,
So don’t be blind.
Don’t be blind.
3. Pan O'wn y Gwanwyn - Mary Humphreys
Traditional Welsh; singable translation by Mary Humphreys
Mary Humphreys: Voice, Anahata (treewind): Jeffreys C/G Anglo concertina
This is a special recording done for Mudcat exclusively.
www.maryanahata.co.uk
Pan o'wn y gwanwyn ar uchelfryn
Yn gwylio'r defaid gyda'r ŵyn
Clywn lais fy nghariad bêr ei chaniad
Yn seinio'n llawen yn y llwyn;
Oedd gwawr llawenydd ar ei deurudd
O mor hardd ei lliw a'i llun,
A minnau'n syllu, ac ymhyfrydu
Gan hardded hwyl fy anwyl Fun.
Free translation by Mary Humphreys:
As I roved out one fine spring morning
To view the lambs and take the air,
I overheard my true love singing,
Her notes so sweet, her voice so clear.
The blushes on her cheeks like roses,
Her skin as white as any dove,
No one more fair, I stood to stare
In wonder at the girl I love.
4. The Thingama Jigs - michaelr
Two slip jigs - "The Homecoming" (© Jonathan Jensen) and "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring"
(J. S. Bach, arr. Jon Berger) - and a double jig, "Buttermilk Mary" (trad.)
Greenhouse (Michael Rofkar [michaelr]: Guitar and octave mandolin, Jon Berger: Violins,
Tony Blake: Spoons, bodhran, drums, Dan Reynolds: Bass, Todd Denman: Whistle)
Published by Kudzu Tunes. From the CD Dreams and High Hopes (Jackalope Records, 2009)
www.celticfusion.org
www.youtube.com/greenhouseceltic
5. The Farm Servant - MtheGM
Trad. Suffolk, learned from the singing of A. L. Lloyd
Michael Grosvenor Myer (MtheGM): Voice, djembe
http://www.youtube.com/user/mgmyer
When I was a farm servant, I liked me bit of fun.
I minded me master's business, as servants always done.
But whenever me master, he went away and left me alone with the farm,
I'd be round the back door with me (knock, knock, knock)
And never a thought of harm I had, no, never a thought of harm.
'T was on a Thursday morning me master to market did go.
He told me to mind his business as servants must always do.
But as soon as me master, he was gone, I came blundering out of the barn,
I was round that back door with me (knock, knock, knock),
And never a thought of harm, I hadn't, no, never a thought of harm.
Well, the mistress, she came out to the door and she bid me to come in.
When I complained of the belly ache she give to me some gin.
She give to me some gin, she did, and never a word to say.
Well, there I was with me (knock, knock, knock),
So a-courtin' we fell straight way, we did, a-courtin' we went straight way.
We hadn't not been at our courtin' but half an hour or more.
She took so kindly to the sport, I thought she'd never give o'er.
“Why John, my darling love” she says, “Your master no more for me,
"For he can't manage that (knock, knock, knock),
"Not half so well as thee, me love, not half so well as thee."
Well, when the master, he come in he asked me how I'd got on.
I told him I'd minded his business, as servants have always done.
He give to me best ale, me boys, but little did he know
I'd been round the back door with me (knock, knock, knock).
If he had, he'd never done so, he wouldn't. If he had he'd have never done so.
6. Willy Taylor (Trad.) - treaties
Theresa Tooley (treaties): Voice
Theresa may have been small in stature but her huge voice, heart and personality will be fondly remembered by all who met her.
This recording was made in the barn at Whittlebury Song and Ale weekend with Theresa raising the rafters
and sharing her song surrounded by so many friends.
Willy Taylor and his youthful true love, full of mirth and jollity,
They were going to the church to be married; he was pressed and sent to sea.
Refrain:
Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Di Do, Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Day,
Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Di Do, Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Day.
She dressed herself in sailor's clothing; over her breast she wore a star.
Beautiful fingers long and slender, she gave to them just a smear of tar. (Ref.)
On this ship there being a skirmish, she being wounded amongst the rest,
Silver buttons flew off her tunic; there appeared her snow white breast. (Ref.)
Said the captain to this fair maid, "What misfortune brought you here?"
"Oh, I'm in search of my true lover whom you pressed the other year." (Ref.)
"If you're in search of your true lover, pray come tell to me his name."
"Willy Taylor they do call him, though FitzGerald is his name." (Ref.)
"If you rise early in the morning, early at the break of day.
There you'll find your Willy Taylor walking with his lady gay." (Ref.)
She rose early in the morning, early at the break of day.
There she saw her Willy Taylor walking with his lady gay. (Ref.)
She drew out a brace of pistols which she had at her command;
Then she shot her Willy Taylor, with his bride at his right hand. (Ref.)
When the captain came to hear it, of the deed that she had done.
He made her a ship's commander over a vessel for the Isle of Man. (Ref. x 2)
7. Ratcliffe Highway - Two Black Sheep and a Stallion
Lyrics: anonymous poem collected & published by C. Fox Smith, adapted by Charlie Ipcar;
edited arranged by Peter Outhart, who set the lyrics to “With My Swag All On My Shoulder” from Paterson's Old Bush Songs,
the tune of which is a variant of 'The Boys of Wexford'
Peter Outhart (stallion),Ron Akehurst & Martin Bartlett: Voices
From the CD Crossing The Pond, recorded in Leeds by Rob Van Sante
Come gather round, you sailors, come listen unto me.
Avast a while, I’ll make you smile and tell you of a spree.
There’s many a craft in Wapping, in flying colours gay.
There's pirate ships and fireships along Ratcliffe Highway
Chorus:
So it's mind them fine flash frigates in their flying colours gay
Or soon they’ll clear your lockers out along Ratcliffe Highway.
To the old Three Crowns I first put in, a frigate took me in tow.
I was tempest tossed; me cargo lost, I made full sail to go.
Then I cruised the Mahogany Bar and so by the next day
I lay so high and, oh, so dry along Ratcliffe Highway. (Cho.)
In the Old Rose and Britannia such frigates we have at hand
There’s crooked Lou and squinty Sue and bandy Mary Anne
There’s skinny Sal, the China gal, and flash Maria neat
There’s bouncing Nell and brazen Belle, who’s been through half the fleet
And in the famed King Billy down on New Gravel Lane
There’s Jenny Jones, all skin and bones, and ugly Molly Payne
There’s lusty Bet, as black as jet with a bustle such a size!
And sniffing Annie with her wet nose, and Sukey, gravy eyes. (Cho.)
In the parlour of the Barley Mow I hailed a frigate tight,
Towed her away without delay and boarded her that night.
She took me watch, me money too, me clothes—to my dismay
Two bullies stout, they turned me out upon Ratcliffe Highway. (Cho.)
So, all you Jolly sailors, I’d have you bear in mind
There’s pirate sorts in every port and fireships you’ll find.
But if you're goin' on a spree when you’re out on the loose,
Get moored up right so snug and tight in the Port of Paddy’s goose.
8. Catalunya Spirit - Mysha
Written by Peter Hans van den Muijzenberg © 2008, 2011
Peter Hans van den Muijzenberg (Mysha): Voice
In the early morning of 11 February 2008, the LNG carrier Catalunya Spirit, on course from Trinidad and Tobago to Boston,
lost propulsion off Cape Cod. As the ship received assistance from various support vessels, each subsequent news report would name
a new cause for the engine failure. After a week, the vessel eventually continued under its own power.
I wrote this song for a Mudcat Song Challenge that we held about the events, but to use it for this CD I did have to touch up the lyrics a bit, which eventually also led to a somewhat less generic tune.
It really was a fine day when we first set out to sea
On the Catalunya Spirit, my good friend Juan and me.
It should have been an easy trip, though not exactly dull
With all those tons of liquid gas below us in the hull.
On Sunday we had middle watch, though we didn't care for that.
"This day is for the spirits," was what Juan to me said.
Well, Sunday strictly was no more, but I didn't disagree,
As a big flask Catalunya Spirit he then showed to me.
At our first drop it was one bell and we saw that as a sign,
So at two bells we took two more and all the ship was fine.
After three bells in this fashion that I shared with my dear friend
We didn't think or care about the way that this would end.
At four bells we did some singing, or at least I think we did.
Five, I can't say for sure, but I think we drank a bit.
Of six bells I know nothing but seven I recall,
For then we found that in the flask there was nothing left at all.
But Juan said there'd been plenty and that I surely was to blame.
He raised the bottle in his hand and tried to take his aim.
The bottle, though, went a different way from where he had intended
As it swerved towards the console, where with a crash it landed.
Well, we sort of sobered up a bit when we saw that mess of glass
While some missed drops did seep into the circuitry, alas.
So when a short while afterwards the ship was acting queer
We'd cleaned up everything before the captain did appear.
So when he asked, "What is the matter? What is going on?"
I said "It is the boiler, sir, some thing down there is gone."
Yet Juan at the same time spoke, it was the engine that he named,
But soon we two agreed: 't was the computer that we blamed.
Well, because of "the computer," for a week we made no speed,
And drifting there towards a shore we could no longer heed,
We had to suffer how some tug boats towed our craft away
And worst of all, for such time lost we only got half pay.
So if on Catalunya Spirit a-sailing you should go,
If you should get the middle watch, there's something you should know.
To bring a bottle on the job is a foolish thing to do,
Because to make it through the night you will at least need two.
9. The Minstrel - VirginiaTam
Written by Graham and Eileen Pratt © 1976
Tamara Linn Hiatt (VirginiaTam): Voice
Upon my first hearing of Eileen Pratt singing The Minstrel, I knew I must teach the song
to my daughter, Andie Robbins. Andie was an apprentice bard in the Medieval Society for Creative Anachronists.
Almost two years to the day after Andie’s funeral, I sang The Minstrel for the first time in public.
In fact it was the first time I sang anything in 2 years. Now this is my most requested piece.
With grateful thanks to Graham and Eileen Pratt for inspiring me to learn the song and for permission to record
and special thanks to my Andie for lending me the courage to sing it.
I sang my song at Hastings' battle
To praise the deeds of Charlemagne.
I sang of Arthur and of Roland,
That men remember their great fame.
I sang to rouse a sinking nation,
That king and man might never yield,
But when the battle cry was over,
We all lay dead on Hastings' field.
I sang my song to conquer loved ones.
I sold my voice to him who paid,
To sing his lady gentle love songs
And lend his passion subtler shade.
But when my silver-throated praises
At last did melt her heart of stone,
He paid me, and they both departed
And left me there to sing alone.
I sang my song at fair and market,
A song much bawdier than before.
Amid the pigs and the geese and the cattle
I sought to please the crowd once more.
I sang to win applause and favour,
Songs of the cuckold and the whore,
And though I gladly took their money
I missed the songs I'd sung before.
I sang my song at times of anger.
I found new purpose in my rhyme.
At kings and queens I'd point the finger
And bid them see the nation's crime.
How bitterly did I condemn them,
All those that left the poor oppressed,
But the time was not yet ripe for changes;
I hung at Tyburn with the rest.
I sang my song in mill and coal pit
Me voice all cracked with dust and fume.
I took me tune from the factoriy siren
I took me rhythm from the loom.
But whether anybody listened
Or paid attention, I can't say.
For I couldn't stand the smoke and chimneys
So I packed me bags and I moved away.
My eyes are tired. My voice grows weary.
The aging memory nearly done.
I've sung my song for lord and lady,
I've sung it too for common man.
And when there's no more time for singing,
Until we reach the stories' end,
I'll always find the strength within me
To rise and sing my song again.
10. The Dreadnaught (Trad.) - Guy Wolff
Guy Wolff: Voice, guitar and whistle
There's a saucy well packet, a packet of fame,
She hails from New York and the Dreadnaught's her name.
Away to the westward where the wild winds do blow
And away for the westward the Dreadnaught will go.
Now the Dreadnaught's awaiting in the River Mersey
For the Independence to tow her to sea
To round the Rock Light where the wild winds do blow.
She's the Liverpool packet. Oh Lord, let her go!
And the Dreadnaught's a-sailing down the wild Irish Sea,
Her passengers merry with hearts full of glee.
Her sailors like lions walk the decks to and fro.
She's the Liverpool packet. Oh Lord, let her go!
The Dreadnaught's a-sailing the Atlantic so wide,
The high roaring seas roll along her black side.
With her sails tautly set for the Red Cross to show,
On her way to the westward and the Dreadnaught will go.
And the Dreadnaught's arriving in New York once more.
So go ashore, shipmates, to the girls you adore.
With your wives and your sweethearts how merry you'll be!
Drink health to the Dreadnaught where'er she may be!
Here's a health to the Dreadnaught and all of her crew,
To bold Captain Samuels and his officers too.
You can keep your flash packets, Swallowtail and Black Ball.
The Dreadnaught's the flyer that will lick them all!
11. Little Sally Walker Down in New Orleans - Janie
Written by Janie Endres © 2005, except verses 1 and 6 trad.
Janie Endres (Janie): Voice
"Little Sally Walker" has a rich and varied history. Enter the term in the Mudcat search and two DT versions come up,
as well as numerous Mudcat threads. Little Sally gets around. She inhabits the Carribean, the British Isles, Germany,
and the streets and playgrounds of the USA, where she is best known and remembered as a children's game chant.
I wrote my own version, using traditional verses associated with the song/chant for the first and last verse.
The inspiration is obvious from the lyrics.
Little Sally Walker sittin’ in a saucer
Weepin’ and a moanin’ like a turtle dove,
Gotta rise, Sally, rise, wipe your weepin’ eyes,
Turn to the east, turn to the west,
Turn to the one that you love best.
I ain’t never, no never, been satisfied,
Satisfied.
Way down South in southern Louisiana,
Mississippi Gulf Coast and Alabam’,
Better run, Sister, run, til the storm is done.
Hurricane Katrina roiled in from the Gulf,
The Big Muddy rose up. It was a terrible loss.
I ain’t never, no never seen such a sight,
Such a sight.
Over in Biloxi the saints and the sinners
Clingin’ to each other hand-in-hand
Better pray, Brothers, pray till the break of day.
Gamblin’ boats and churches, fishermen and merchants,
The storm, it spared not a single man.
I ain’t never, no never had such a fright,
Such a fright.
Little Sally Walker sittin’ in a saucer,
Water to the attics down in New Orleans.
Better row, Sally, row, or you won’t ever know.
Row to the east, row to the west
Searchin’ for the ones that you love best.
I ain’t never, no never been satisfied,
Satisfied
Mother, Father, Sister, dear Brother
Sweet Jesus, won’t you take me by the hand?
Get us out! Get us out or we’ll die, no doubt.
Take me to the east, take me to the west,
Just get me to a place where I can rest.
I ain’t never, no never seen life this hard,
Life this hard.
Little Sally Walker sittin’ in a saucer
Tryin’ to get the old man to come back home
Better ride, Sally, ride with your head up high.
Shake it to the east, shake it to the west,
Shake it to the one that you love best,
I ain’t never, no, no never been satisfied,
Satisfied.
12. Lady Catherine Ogle/Childgrove (Trad.) - Tootler
Trad publ. Playford: "The Dancing Master" 1686 & 1701, Arr. Geoff Walker
Geoff Walker (Tootler): Alto recorder and shruti box
Two attractive tunes from later editions of the "Dancing Master" (7th & 11th editions). I first heard them on recordings
by Playford specialists "The Broadside Band". The Mollenhauer "Dream" range of recorders I used on these recordings
have a wide bore which give more of a renaissance-like tone but retain the standard (Baroque) fingering.
http://soundcloud.com/tootlingeoff
13. Long, Long Ago - Joe Offer
Written by Thomas Haynes Bayly, published by Geo. W. Hewitt and Co., Philadelphia 1839
Joe Offer: Voice
Tell me the tales that to me were so dear
Long, long ago, long, long ago.
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear
Long, long ago, long ago.
Now you are come, all my grief is removed,
Let me forget that so long you have roved.
Let me believe that you love as you loved
Long, long ago, long ago.
Do you remember the path where we met
Long, long ago, long, long ago?
Ah! yes, you told me you ne'er would forget
Long, long ago, long ago.
Then to all others, my smile you preferred,
Love, when you spoke, gave a charm to each word.
Still my heart treasures the phrases I heard
Long, long ago, long ago.
Though by your kindness my fond hopes were raised
Long, long ago, long, long ago,
You by more eloquent lips have been praised
Long, long ago, long ago.
But by long absence your truth has been tried;
Still to your accents I listen with pride,
Blest as I was when I sat by your side
Long, long ago, long ago.
14. Ivah's Song (A Lady As Common As The Columbine) - Genie
Written by R. Jeanene Pratt © 1987, 1988
Jeanene Pratt (Genie): recorded guitar & vocals, live harmony vocals
Tammy Aburto-Pratt: live melody vocals
When I bought my house, I found columbine growing wild in the yard. A friend commented, “Oh, columbine is a wonderful weed!”
My mother, Ivah, was that kind of wildflower. I wrote this song for her in 1987 and added the third verse in 1988.
My sister and I sang the song this past June at Ivah's memorial service, accompanying the original recording,
as background for a slide show tribute to her.
www.youtube.com/user/WildeNotesMusic
Down along the winding roads & by the waterfalls & brooks in Arkansas
Little Ivah winds her way & wonders what the river wants to say.
There’s a world of new adventure waiting ‘round each corner to embark upon,
And as she grows the questions smolder, mold her like the river molds the clay.
It’s a childhood as common as the columbine,
Hearty as red clover grows,
And the lessons spread like runners from a common berry vine,
And the roots are planted deeper than she knows.
Thru hard times of afternoon the lessons of the morning will continue on.
Hand-me-downs of pinafores & principles must be her dowry.
Some will say that she must learn to compromise & settle or be left alone,
But she’s a mind to listen to the river & her heart & let it be. (Just wait and see)
She’s a lady as common as the columbine,
Hardy as red clover grows,
And her love spreads out like runners from a common berry vine,
And her beauty’s plainly clearer than she knows.
When she finds new flowers growing in her garden, she will tend them one by one.
Never mind who planted them or if, to some, they’re only common weeds.
Ivah knows that you can’t judge the crop until the growin' & the reapin’s done,
And so she draws the water from the well so deep within to tend their needs. (Repeat 2nd chorus)
15. Harriet Lane - Crane Driver
Written by Andrew McKay © 2006
Andrew McKay (Crane Driver): Lead vocal, duet concertina*, Carole Etherton (SussexCarole): Flute,
Andy Baker: Guitar, Ken Simpson: Fiddle
Chorus voices: Carole Etherton, Andy Baker, Bridget Hayne, Chris Richardson, Joy Toole
*The instrument is a 'Crane' system duet concertina (hence 'Crane Driver').
It combines (IMHO) the best points of the Anglo and English systems.
The song is based on an account of food at sea, written by Jack Owen,
another old Swansea mariner, who was apparently always complaining about his food!
Owen left a humorous account of the food provided for ships' crews in Victorian times, as regulated by
the Board of Trade. One of the men's favourites was a tinned meat product, an early forerunner of Spam,
nicknamed "Harriet Lane" after the victim of a particularly brutal London murder!
From the 2006 CD Characters
www.cranedrivinmusic.com
Oh listen, you landsmen, I'll sing you a song,
How they feeds us at sea when we're out there so long.
The Board of Trade tells 'em the least we can get,
They could give us more, but they never have yet.
Chorus:
Harriet Lane, oh Harriet Lane,
I'm telling you clear and I'm telling you plain
A blessing to sailors is Harriet Lane!
Well, biscuits like roof-tiles we get every day,
They're baked out of sawdust and bulked out with clay.
You can smash 'em or hash 'em or throw 'em away
But with Harriet Lane you get meat every day! (Chorus)
Well, wet hash for breakfast, it works pretty well.
It slips down a treat if you don't mind the smell!
But oatmeal with treacle that tastes just like tar,
It goes over the side, it's a breakfast too far. (Chorus)
But dry hash for breakfast, it isn't so good,
Tastes like it's made out of chippin's of wood.
But pea-soup is fine, it'll warm you right through
And if anything breaks you can use it as glue! (Chorus)
Now the beef that they gives us is leathery hard,
The pork that they gives us is mostly sour lard.
As a slurry with curry they calls it a treat
But with Harriet Lane you gets close to real meat. (Chorus)
(Repeat 1st verse & chorus)
16. Long Cookstown (Trad.) - Stewart
Stewart Hendrickson (Stewart): fiddle and voice; Jerry Middaugh: guitar
From the CD Erin's Green Shore (2007)
www.stewarthendrickson.com
For three long quarters I've been a-weavin'
And for my wages I was penned down.
As for to buy a new suit of clothin'
I made my way on to Long Cookstown.
As I was walking through Long Cookstown,
Oh, Nancy whiskey I chanced to smell.
Says I to myself "I’ll come and taste you."
For three long quarters I've loved you well.
I entered into an alehouse tavern,
I asked their pardon for makin' free
But Nancy met me at every corner,
"You're heartily welcome, young man," says she.
But when I woke up all in the mornin'
I found myself in a strange bed.
I strove to rise but I was not able
For Nancy whiskey ran in my head.
I then called on to the landlady
To see what reck'nin' I’d have to pay.
"It’s fifteen shilling' for ale and brandy
And after that you may go or stay."
I put my hand down to my pocket,
That was the money I did pay down
And lookin' back into my small purse
All that remained was a bare half-crown.
I put my head out of the window,
A charmin' lassie I chanced to spy.
With her I spent my two and two pence,
Now all remained was a fourpenny boy.
So I’ll go home and I’ll join my weavin',
My little shuttle I’ll steer a while
And I will gain more pocket money,
For Nancy whiskey did me beguile.
17. Mazurka d'Auvergne (Trad. French) - Will Fly
Will Fly: Guitar
This is a very popular traditional French mazurka - played at sessions and for dancing.
I've played it, on and off, for some years on guitar while backing concertina or melodeon players -
so thought I'd arrange it for guitar. It's usually played in G, but fits better under the guitarist's fingers in C.
I wanted a bright, clean, summery sound, so capo'ed up to the 4th fret - bringing the actual key up to E.
The guitar ("No. 18") is a medium-sized jumbo made by luthier Ian Chisholm of Ditchling in Sussex, UK.
http://www.mjra.net/WillFly
18. The A320 Disaster - John Hills
Written by John Hills © 1999
John Hills, from “Elsie’s Band”: Voice and guitar
The song, an imaginary tale, was inspired by the crash of an A320 (Airbus) airliner during its development period
in the ‘80s. I can still see the TV pictures now as the craft failed to gain height and came down amid a pine forest.
Although it was not a shocking disaster it fired my imagination to write a melancholy song concerning an airplane crash,
the central figure being the unfortunate Claudette, the original name of the song. It also seemed apt to place the flight
in Europe since the planes are put together in Toulouse, and Geneva is a likely domestic destination.
It is a home recording on MAGIX Sound Lab.DeLuxe through the computer. The song is to be found on limited edition CDs, Nothing to Pay and Songs for ‘Elsie's Band’.
www.elsiesband.com
A cold day in January, the grey clouds filled the skies.
Claudette’s trip to old Geneva was meant as a surprise.
She’d been gone for six long months now she was homeward bound,
But the A Three Twenty flew too low and piled into the ground.
Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the flowers on cold French mountainside.
She shared her mother’s features, her hair the gold of straw.
She was everything her parents had hoped and waited for,
A rose among the clover, a pearl without a flaw,
But the A Three Twenty bore no mind as to its end it tore.
Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the pines on cold French mountainside.
The TV spread the news of the crash both far and wide.
Her unsuspecting parents saw and prayed for those who died.
How could they know that come the dawn when things became more clear,
That they’d receive a stranger’s call to tell them of their dear?
Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the boulders on cold French mountainside.
Some say the plane’s computer was wrong about the height,
The pilot didn’t stand a chance, he saw the trees too late.
Some will blame the weather while others blame the jet,
But reasons now don’t mean a thing to those who loved Claudette.
Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the snowdrifts on cold French mountainside.
Not all of those who took the trip were killed upon that flight.
A lucky few were found alive by rescuers that night.
The age of miracles lives on but not for poor Claudette,
The symbol of the tragedy that France will not forget.
Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the boulders on a cold French mountainside.
Claudette, vingt-deux ans, jamais la belle mariee,
Elle dort parmis les gros pieres aux montagnes Françaises
19. Where Ravens Feed - My guru always said
Written by Graeme Miles ©, used with permission
Hilary Ward (My guru always said): Voice
The other singers on the chorus are live audience at the at the Banbury Canalside Folk Festival where this was recorded in 2005.
This song cries out to be sung on top of a mountain or in the middle of nowhere. In fact friends have already done this very thing.
One of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard and everyone agrees!
This song is a track on a homemade CD, A Toe In The Water, which is not available commercially.
www.hilaryward.co.uk
I roam and ramble in lonely places,
all in the coolness of the rain,
o'er rolling hill and rugged mountain,
o'er sandy heath and grassy plain,
And should you ask am I content there,
I'd answer "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
for my love, it is for lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.
I seek and find these lonely places
where bounds the hare and deer run
O'er crags of grey and mossy boulders
shaded from the morning sun,
And should you ask am I at ease there,
I'd answer, "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
for my heart, it dwells in lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.
I yearn and long for lonely places
where hunts the fox and badgers play,
where midnight stars are at their brightest,
where snows lie deep, where mists hang grey,
And should you ask am I at home there,
I'd answer "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
For my desires are for lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.
I lose myself in lonely places
on heathered moor and bracken fell
and with the wind hold conversation;
it always has so much to tell,
And should you ask am I at ease there,
I'd answer "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
For I'll always need these lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.
Yes, I'll always need these lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.
20. Needle and Thread - henryclem
Written by Henry Clements © 1991, 2006
Henry Clements (henryclem): Voice
This song has more of an emotional impact on audiences than any other song I sing live,
and I am thrilled when I hear that others who perform it get a similar response. I've been singing it now
for 20 years and for me it is still an intense and draining experience - every time.
From the 2006 album Shades of the Past
www.myspace.com/henryclements
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack.
As she patched your dungarees
She'd say you were a terror, Jack,
Forever climbing trees.
The bumps and scrapes and bruises, Jack,
She'd ease your pains away,
She'd patch you and your trousers, Jack,
Then wave you out to play.
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As your blazer badge she sewed.
You'd passed to go to Grammar, Jack
What pride your Mother showed!
The uniform is costly, Jack,
Comes with such sacrifice
but she'd dress you smartly, Jack,
not have it otherwise.
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
Machining gloves for pence.
Her fingers turned to leather, Jack,
That you might have the chance.
She toiled for you to study, Jack,
She sewed that you might reap.
If she seemed old already, Jack,
She's given you her sleep.
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As she polished your new shoes.
She'd pressed the suit she gave you, Jack,
For important interviews.
She said it didn't matter, Jack,
When no job's to be found
Things would soon be better, Jack
But you wouldn't hang around.
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
the day that you left home.
You'd signed to be a soldier, Jack,
Though to her you're hardly grown,
And she's written you such letters, Jack,
Though she'd have no news at all.
She was knitting you a sweater, Jack,
When the Captain came to call.
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As she polishes your shoes
She's pressed the suit she gave you, Jack,
For important interviews.
Too many bumps and bruises, Jack,
And no more trees to climb
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As she's dressed you one last time.
21. Esperanza Waits Above - George Papavgeris
Written by George Papavgeris © 10/14/2010
George Papavgeris: Vocals, 12-string guitar, 6-string guitar
I wrote this in the early morning hours as the last few of the Chilean (and one Bolivian) rescued miners
emerged from the collapsed San José mine in Copiapó. It is a tribute not only to the miners themselves
but also to their families and friends and the whole Chilean nation – the people, not the government – who stood by them
and refused to give up hope. Esperanza (Hope) was of course the name given to the camp formed for the rescue workers and the
miners’ families, as they waited for weeks. But it was also the name given to Ariel Ticona’s baby daughter, born a month before the rescue
(he watched her birth on a video link). So the word Esperanza here refers to all three: the girl, the camp, the hope that kept them all alive.
www.folk4all.net
As thousands camp on a hill
Nunca perder la Esperanza!*
As millions watch with one will
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
As hour after hour after day after week
The noise of the drill, first a hum then a shriek,
The heart dares to dream what the lips cannot speak:
Esperanza waits above!
Chorus:
But the earth can't claim them yet,
For a country stands behind them.
The rocks can't hide them yet,
For a nation's hopes will find them.
And when all this is over
Chile's people won't forget
The thirteenth day of October.
No, the earth can't have them yet!
No, the earth can't have them yet!
When the rocks gave the miners a tomb
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Thirty three in a dark airless room
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Were it up to the bosses what would be their lot?
Would they give up on them, would they leave them to rot?
But a nation can give what the bosses can not:
Esperanza waits above! (Chorus)
Just as courage can wipe away fears
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Every hand now wipes away tears
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Can you not feel the power, the magic, the spell
As the cable of steel pulls the Fenix** from Hell
And millions of hearts pull together as well?
Esperanza waits above! (Chorus)
*Never lose hope!
** Phoenix