WOOD Song list
1 - Amos - Bring Down The Walls
2 - Clontarf83 - Hills of Afganistan
3 - JHW - The Snows They Melt The Soonest
4 - John P - Turkish Tune
5 - Max - Monkey's Wedding
6 - rich-joy - Agent Orange
7 - Suffet - The October Waltz
8 - Leadfingers - Water and Beer
9 - open mike - Give Me Roses
10 - Dan Schatz - The Promise Of The Sowing
11 - Mark Clark - Shady Grove
12 - Nick - John Riley
13 - Tootler - Cleveland Hills/Down Along the Tees
14 - Crane Driver - Let Me Breathe
15 - YorkshireYankee - E-mail He-male
16 - jacqui.c - Wiscasset Schooners
17 - JohnB - The Parting Glass
18 - closet-folkie - Road To Ruin
19 - MAG/Genie/Lorelei - Die Lorelei
20 - alanabit - Ain't Got The Blues
Many thanks to bradfordian and Mysha for their work in compiling this information.
All lyrics are the property of their authors. Used by permission. Unauthorized usage is prohibited.
Lyrics for WOOD CD
1. Bring Down The Walls - Amos
Written by Amos H. Jessup © 2008
Amos Jessup (Amos): Guitar and voice
This song is a protest song - not against politics, war or injustice but about the fragmented
separation of human beings which generates them by undermining our natural capacity for simple compassion.
It's not only you,
Who knows how the wind blows
Not only they who know just how the world must be.
It's not only she
Who is looking for answers,
Not only them, not only you, and not only me...
Chorus:
Bring down the walls
And bring in the river
Bring down the lonesome, frozen clay,
And bring in the light.
Bring down the walls,
Throw open the windows,
And if we just hold on,
We just might find a place
Where just living is right
The justice has called,
And cancelled the weddings.
The jester has answered all the phones,
Before they could ring.
The mothers of town
Have nailed down all the windows
And the merchants barred their doors, just to go home and sing....
Chorus
Bridge:
Just living is not an easy answer;
Not simple, and not always kind;
Just living cannot guarantee you
Comfort to an overcrowded mind...
It's not only you,
Who knows how the wind blows
Not only they who know just how the world must be.
Not only she
Who knows where the answers are,
Not only them, not only you, and not only me...
Final Chorus:
Bring down the walls
And bring in the river
Bring down the lonesome, frozen clay,
And bring in the sun.
Bring down the walls,
Throw open the windows,
We just hold on,
We just might find a place
Where just living is done
2. Hills Of Afghanistan - Three Wide Men
Based on "Banks of Sicily" written by Hamish Henderson ©1943
Music by Pipe Major James Robertson (1915) (PD)
Updated lyrics and arrangement by Les McAdams ©2010
Les McAdams (Clontarf83): Guitar and Vocals, Keith Malcolm: Fiddle, Denis Wightman: Harmonica
“Hills of Afghanistan” is an update of Banks of Sicily, Hamish Henderson’s classic description of war-weary soldiers in Sicily, 1943.
It is about the incredible burden we place on our troops.
The band is called “Three Wide Men”, and we play a mixture of fiddle tunes and songs, mostly originals.
We are located in Victoria, BC on the west coast of Canada.
Song taken from the CD Hearts Wide Open
www.threewidemen.com
Chorus:
Fare ye well, ye hills of Afghanistan
Fare ye well, ye valleys and plains
Not many here would want to come back again
Poor bloody soldiers are weary
It’s up in the darkness, out in the cold
Into our transports, out on patrol
Keeping a watch for a bomb on the road...
And the feeling it gives you is eerie
Chorus
In the late afternoon we’re back at the camp
Watching another one go up the ramp
The flags are half mast and the pipers they play...
But the tune that they're playing is eerie
Chorus
I look in the eyes of the silent young men
Don’t know who’s a foe, don’t know who’s a friend
And if you guess wrong, you might not guess again...
And the feeling it gives me is eerie
Final chorus:
Fare ye well, ye hills of Afghanistan
Fare ye well, ye valleys and plains
There's not many here - would want to come back again
Poor bloody soldiers are weary
Poor bloody soldiers are weary
3. The Snows They Melt The Soonest - John Wilson
Presumed written by Thomas Doubleday
Melody ditto (c.f. The White Cockade)
John Wilson (JHW): Guitar and voice
Published Nov 1821 by Thomas Doubleday in Blackwood’s Magazine as collected by Josiah Shufflebotham.
As it has appeared nowhere else in tradition Thomas Doubleday is believed to be the author, pseudonyms being not uncommon at the time.
See archived Mudcat thread http://web.archive.org/web/20060810172656/http://maidmusic.com/snows.html
Text here originally from Dick Gaughan, Handful of Earth. Vs 2&3 transposed.
From the album Leap Year
www.whitclifferecords.co.uk/#/track-list/4523136648
The snows they melt the soonest when the wind begins to sing,
The corn it ripens fastest when the frost is settling in
And when a woman tells you that your face she'll soon forget
I'll wage a crown before she goes, she's fain to follow it yet
The snows they melt the soonest when the wind begins to sing,
The bee that flew when summer shone, in winter cannot sting,
I've seen a woman's anger melt between the night and the morn
So it's surely not a harder thing to melt a woman's scorn
The snows they melt the soonest when the wind begins to sing,
The swallow flies without a thought as long as it is spring
But when spring goes and winter blows, my love then you'll be fain
For all your pride to follow me across the raging main
So don't you whisper farewell love, no farewell I'll receive
For you will lie with me tonight then kiss and take your leave
And I'll wait here till the moorcock calls and the martin takes his wing
For the snows they melt the soonest when the wind begins to sing.
4. Turkish Tune – Crookshank
Trad. Turkish/Trad. Thracian
Crookshank (John Peekstok [John P]: cittern, percussion, Davy Axtell: guitar, flute, Beth Kollé: flute, Sarah Funk: violin, Pete Glass: bass guitar)
Crookshank, sadly, broke up in 2009. There are a few other songs on youtube at www.youtube.com/user/jpeekstok1.
There are also a few CDs left – send a message from the youtube site.
5. Monkey's Wedding – Max
Trad. Collected: Carl Sandburg's "American Songbag".
Max Spiegel (Max): Guitar and voice
Monkey married the baboon's sister,
Gave a ring and then he kissed her,
Kissed her so hard he raised a blister,
She set up a yell.
The bridesmaid stuck on some court-plaster,
Stuck so fast she couldn't stick faster,
Surely, it was a sad disaster,
But it soon got well.
Hey, what do you think the bride was dressed in?
White gauze veil and a green glass breast-pin,
Red kit shoes, quite interesting,
She was quite a belle.
The bridegroom blazed with a blue shirt-collar,
Black silk stock that cost a dollar,
Large false whiskers, fashions to follow,
He cut a monstrous swell.
Hey, what do you think they had for supper?
Chestnuts raw, boiled and roasted,
Apples sliced and onions toasted,
Peanuts not a few.
Hey, what do you think they had for a fiddle?
An old banjo with a hole in the middle,
A tambourine and a worn-out griddle,
And a hurdy-gurdy too.
Hey, what do you think were the tunes they danced to?
What were the figures they advanced to?
Up and down welll they did chance to,
Tails they were too long.
"Ducks In The Kitchen," "Old Aunt Sally,"
“Plain cotillion,” "Who Keeps A Tally,"
Up and down they did rally,
And ended is my song.
6. Agent Orange - rich-joy
Written by Muriel Hogan © (originally called “Paul Reutershan”)
Richenda Bridge (rich-joy): Voice
Written when Muriel worked with Vietnam Vets. I learnt it in 1980s Darwin
from Kate Wolf’s recording, thanks to fellow ‘catter, the redoubtable Stewie. Provenance for author and song
is on 2002 Mudcat thread http://www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=47941#1495666
http://www.veteranstoday.com/2010/01/27/agent-orange-song-paul-reutershan/
http://www.antiwarsongs.org/canzone.php?id=8301&lang=en
www.peculiarhand.com
“Roll Back the Years” (Top End Folk Club, NT, 1992)
I was seventeen when I quit school, the year that I enlisted
I don't recall just why I did; my Mum says I insisted
I had some strange idea then, that Uncle Sam was right
My Mama cried – she signed the card – and I went off to fight.
Got off the plane in Vietnam – it didn't look like war
And with all I saw, I started wondering, just what we came there for
Some officers got drunk at night and cheated on their wives
While those peasants on the other side were fighting for their lives.
You know the army tried some fancy stuff, to bring them to their knees
Like Agent Orange defoliant, to clear the brush and trees
We'd fly all day above the trails, through clouds of poison spray
But they never said that chemical could hurt our health today.
Chorus:
But I just found out this morning – the doctors told me so –
They killed me in Vietnam, and I didn't even know.
Well I tried hard to forget that war, like everybody else did
I settled down, got married and I even had some kids
Our children both had birth defects, the doctors had their doubts
They never said what caused it, but I think I just found out.
The doctor says I have some time – he was trying to be kind
You know, I've never been a radical, but this has changed my mind
I'd be so proud to hear my sons say "Hell no, we won't go!"
"Because you killed our Dad in Vietnam – and he didn't even know."
This Agent Orange from Vietnam, we carry with us still
It stays inside for years and years, and does its best to kill
You might get cancer of the liver; you might get cancer of the skin
You might get a VA Disability – you might not live to win.
Second chorus:
Because I got the news this morning – the doctors told me so
They killed me in Vietnam – and I didn't even know
Oh yes, they killed me in Vietnam – and I didn't even know …
7. The October Waltz - Steve Suffet
Written by Steve Suffet © 2008
Steve Suffet (Suffet): Guitar, voice, Gina Tlamsa: fiddle
Robin Greenstein: banjo with additional vocals by Anne Price.
The true story of how I met my wife, née Marilyn Levine.
From the CD Low Rent District (2008)
http://www.stevesuffet.com/
Chorus:
Dance with me, dance with me, dance with me, dance with me,
Waltz me around the floor.
Dance with me, dance with me, dance with me, dance with me,
The October Waltz once more, the October Waltz once more.
Was a cold October night in the city,
The year was sixty-eight,
I was tired and poor, and you looked so pretty,
The moment you walked through the gate,
The moment you walked through the gate.
Was a Methodist Church, the Wednesday night dinner,
The church isn’t there any more,
You were the saint who rescued this sinner,
The moment you walked through the door,
The moment you walked through the door.
Chorus
Was it fate or good fortune that brought us together?
Or were you there by design?
That mystery magic I’ll always remember,
The moment your eyes met mine,
The moment your eyes met mine.
We got married next summer in a garden of flowers,
To the sound of the sweet fiddle tune,
And we danced round and round in that garden for hours,
To the October Waltz in June,
To the October Waltz in June.
Chorus
It’s been forty years since that night in October,
I think of that night now and then,
While we still go dancing over and over,
To the October Waltz once again,
To the October Waltz once again.
Chorus
8. Water And Beer – Leadfingers
New lyrics and tune written by Terry Silver ©, based on the poem "Water and Wine" by G. K. Chesterton
Terry Silver (Leadfingers): Ozark Banjola and vocals
"Water and Beer" was originally "Water and Wine", a G. K. Chesterton poem that I culled from
'Comic and Curious Verse', a collection in three paper-back volumes, and which I rewrote,
as all the rhymes WERE with Wine, but who drinks wine in a Folk Club?
The tune is mine, a basic Ragtime structure. It's in G Major, F shapes, capo 2.
…but I don't care where the water goes, if it doesn't get into the beer
Ol' Noah had an ostrich farm with fowls on the largest scale
He ate his egg with a ladle from an egg cup big as a pail
And the soup that he took was elephant soup; the fish that he took was a whale
But they were all small to the cellar he took when he set off to sail
And Noah, he would say to his wife on an evening of good cheer:
“I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the beer.”
Ah, the cataracts of the cliff of heaven came roaring off the brink
As if to wash the stars away like suds flowing down the sink
And the seven heavens came roaring in, the mouth of hell to drink,
And Noah: Oh, he cocked one eye, said: “It looks like rain, I think.
And the water can cover the Rockies, the grizzly bear and the deer.
But I don't care where the water goes, if it doesn't get into the beer.”
Now, if we sin like the Hebrews sinned, miss that righteous path we should have trod
Then that great black collector will be sent to us for a rod:
And you won't get your beer at the festival, folk club or eistedfodd
If the curse of water is sent again because of the wrath of God.
And water can be on the bishop's board, Adams Ale will be all the gear
But I don't care where the water goes if it doesn't get into the beer.
9. Give Me The Roses - Open Mike
Written by James Rowe (lyrics) and R.H. Cornelius (music),1925
Laurel Woodsorrel (open mike): Guitar, vocals
Wonderful things of folks are said
When they have passed away
Flowers adorn their narrow bed
And over the sleeping lay
Chorus:
Give me the roses while I live
Trying to cheer me on
Useless the flowers that you give
After the soul is gone
Folks are forgiven when they lie
Cold in their narrow bed
Let us forgive them 'ere they die
Now must the words be said
Chorus
Praises are heard not - by the dead
Flowers they cannot see
Let's not wait till souls have fled
Tenderest friends to be
Chorus
Useless the flowers that you give
After the soul is gone.
Thank you. Thank you for the waltzes.
10. The Promise Of The Sowing - Dan Schatz
Written by Dan Schatz © 2010
Dan Schatz: Voice, Apollonio 6 string guitar, and acoustic bass
I have always been fascinated by the people who give us our food - the farmers, fishermen and
field hands of the world - and their traditions and cultures. During the BP oil spill of 2010,
I started thinking about the connection between our outdated energy policies and the degradation of those living traditions.
Our hope is in organizing for cleaner energy and cleaner food, not only for the environment, but also
for the cultural legacy of the people whose lives are dependent on the soil and the water.
www.danschatz.com
Down to water's edges in the first light of the sun
Where the fishermen are gathered by their moorings
Another day of labor on the waters off these shores
Is another week of food to raise your children.
But the river's running empty and the seas are growing warm
And the oil they spilled has poisoned all the fisheries
The catch is growing smaller till there's nothing left to find
But a job at some big box store in the city
Chorus:
(And) remember the years when the waters ran clear
And the fields restored the promise of the sowing
And the breezes blew clean and the warmth of Summer's green
On ancient hills gave strength to keep us going.
Out among the furrows we've ploughed these fifty years
My father's hands and mine have made a living.
Silver Queen in even years and soybeans in the odd
Fed by waters rippling clear from Eastern mountains.
But the hills are being levelled for the coal that lies within
And the brooks are flowing black with nature's refuse
The soils have turned to chemical; they've stripped the ridges bare
And we've watched our family's pride all turned to wasteland.
Chorus:
(But) remember ….....
I don't pretend to understand the reasons for it all
But I know we've wasted years in wrong directions
If the nourishment is stolen from the waters and the soil
How are we to feed the generations?
But the answer lies within us, and it's only common sense.
To soil the pond we live in is disaster.
Alone we fail and crumble, but together we have power
To lift our hands and voices for the future.
Final chorus:
And to work for the years when the waters run clear
And the fields restore the promise of the sowing
And the breezes blow clean and the warmth of Summer's green
On ancient hills gives strength to keep us going
And keep us sowing.
11. Shady Grove (Trad., arr. Castle Ridge) - Castle Ridge
Castle Ridge (Roger Anderson, lead vocal & bass; Joy Ward, harmony vocal & fiddle;
Mark Clark [Mark Clark], harmony vocal & guitar; Corky Berry, banjo)
From the CD Castle Ridge
www.castleridgeband.com
Chorus:
Shady Grove, my little love, Shady Grove I know
Shady Grove, my little love, own for Shady Grove
I wish I had a big fine horse and corn to feed him on
Shady Grove: stay at home and feed him when I'm gone
Chorus
Peaches in the Summertime and apples in the Fall
If I can't have the girl I want, don't want none at all
Chorus
Wish I had a banjo string, all made of golden twine
Every tune I'd pick on it, I wish that girl was mine.
Chorus
Fly around my pretty little miss, oh, fly around my daisy
Fly around my pretty little miss, `bout to drive me crazy
Chorus
Own for Shady Grove
Own for Shady Grove
12. John Riley (Trad.) - Nick
Nick Blair (Nick): guitar and Lynne Blair: vocals
Fair young maid all in a garden
Strange young man, passer-by
Said, "Fair maid, will you marry me?"
This then, sir, was her reply:
“Oh, no, kind sir, I cannot marry thee
For I've a love who sailed across the sea.
Though he's been gone for seven years
Still no man shall marry me.”
“What if he's in some battle slain
Or drownded in the deep salt sea
What if he's found another love
He and his love both married be?”
“If he's in some battle slain
I would die when the moon doth wane
And if he's drowned in the deep salt sea
I'll be true to his memory.
And if he's found another love
And he and his love both married be,
I wish them health and happiness
Where they dwell across the sea.”
He picked her up all in his arms
And kisses gave her: One, two, three
Saying: “Weep no more, my own true love
I am your long-lost John Riley!
Weep no more, my own true love
I am your long-lost John Riley!”
13. Cleveland Hills/Down Along the Tees - Tootler
Melodies composed by Geoff Walker ©, arr. Geoff Walker and Nick Blair
Geoff Walker (Tootler): Flute, Nick Blair (Nick): Guitar
Two of my own compositions. "Cleveland Hills" is a slow air. "Down Along the Tees" is a Hornpipe. Both tunes are named after features of the area
where I live in North East England. Played on a wooden flute and accompanied by my friend Nick on Guitar. This is the result of a collaboration via the Internet.
http://soundcloud.com/tootlingeoff
14. Let Me Breathe - Crane Driver
Written by Andrew McKay © 2011
Andrew McKay (Crane Driver): Concertina, vocals, Carole Etherton (SussexCarole): Tenor Cornamuse, vocals
In 1917 Charles Mew, a tramway maintenance man from Swansea, was near Ypres in Flanders,
serving as Lance Corporal with the Royal Welsh Fusiliers. His unit was waiting behind the lines to go forward and relieve
another unit from the fighting trenches when the incident recounted here happened.
Taken from the CD Silver, Stone and Sand
www.cranedrivinmusic.com
Chorus:
Let me breathe, let me breathe
Let me see another daybreak - let me breathe
Flanders mud is unforgiving - let me breathe
When it presses on the living - let me breathe
In a dugout under clay, along with eight good pals I lay
To await the coming day - let me breathe
Chorus
Then a shell burst overhead - let me breathe
Loud enough to wake the dead - let me breathe
Where we laid us down to sleep, were mud and timbers in a heap,
And nine men buried deep - let me breathe
Chorus
We were buried deep in mud - let me breathe
Gasping air, coughing blood - let me breathe
In the darkness of the night, no-one dared to bring a light,
Though men cried in pain and fright - let me breathe
Chorus
Chorus
I shall not forget the sound - let me breathe
Of shovels hitting ground - let me breathe
Though they dug me out alive, still it was too late for five:
Only four of us survived - let me breathe
Chorus
Now I'm back on Blighty's ground - let me breathe
I am convalescence-bound - let me breathe
But unto my dying day, I know that part of me will stay
Buried deep in Flanders clay - let me breathe
Final chorus:
Let me breathe, let me breathe
Let me see another daybreak,
Let me breathe, let me breathe
Let me see another daybreak - let me breathe
15. E-mail He-Male - YorkshireYankee
Written by Vikki Appleton ©1995
Vikki Appleton (YorkshireYankee): Vocals, Brad Doolittle: Bass Guitar, Randy Proctor: Harmonica
I wrote "E-mail He-male" in 1995. A few years later, I met the man who is now my husband—online (much to my surprise).
Thus did life imitate art imitating life, and I moved from the Detroit area to Yorkshire (hence my Mudcat nickname).
My accompanists were two friends/fellow members of Rochester, Michigan's Paint Creek Folklore Society.
Taken from the CD Fine Times at Lawnridge Hall, a Paint Creek Folklore Society Sampler
(… sounds of a modem calling and making a connection …)
I got me an e-mail he-male... cruisin' on the internet
I got me an e-mail he-male... usin' on the internet
Well, the man can push my buttons... even though we haven't met
Now, I cannot see his hardware, but I really could not care
And he can not touch my software... sister, ask me if I care
'Cause he can turn me on... even though he isn't there
Oh, I know he's user-friendly... he can tell me what to do
Honey, he's a friendly user... knows exactly what to do
And I don't know how he does it, but I'm smilin' when he's through
Take it, boys!
(… sounds of a computer keyboard being typed on...)
Bridge:
Well, the man knows how to send me... he's got a magic hand
When I open up my mailbox, I just come at his command
I love to see him upload... he don't ever need no rest
'Cause the guy ain't got a floppy... Yes, his hard drive is the best.
So, I get my satisfaction... from a man I do not know
Yes, I get some satisfaction... from a man I'll never know
'Cause cyberluv is better, baby—it's the only way go
Yeah, 'cause cyberluv is safer, honey—it's the way to... come and go
Hi, there! Let's chat ...
16. Wiscasset Schooners - jacqui.c
Written by Lois Lyman © 1985
Jacqui Morse (jacqui.c): vocals, Kendall Morse (kendall): six-string guitar and Gordon Bok: 12-String and vocals.
The song is by Lois Lyman, who has given permission for the recording. The song is fairly self explanatory -
these were two schooners that ended their days run aground in Wiscasset, Maine, and when she was a kid,
Lois and Mudcatter Nancy King would play on them, in spite of the danger caused by their run down condition. They are gone now,
but she wrote this song to keep them and their history a bit closer to memory. There have been a couple of threads about them on the 'Cat in the past.
Recorded on my Zoom recorder in our sitting room in Scarborough, Maine.
Do you remember riding home before a dying summer breeze,
Your topsails gleaming golden, setting sun among the trees,
And the osprey wheeling slowly through the shadows by the shore,
Where the towering cliffs of granite plunge ten fathoms deep or more,
And the eddies swirl and flow down below.
You were solid-built of Douglas fir and oak and yellow pine,
Two hundred feet, sailed by a crew that numbered only nine,
Hauling lumber through your timber ports, and dyewood from the south
Running home from Norfolk bringing coal to heat the north
And whatever they could stow down below.
Chorus:
But the winter is upon you now, and time is passing slow
And the tides ebb and flow down below.
You served them well for fifteen years, your canvas all unfurled
When New England sailing ships were found in ports around the world,
But spars gave way to smokestacks, clouds of white to black and grey,
There was nothing left for you to do but waste your time away.
And the rot was spreading slow, down below.
Chorus: And the winter...
From Wiscasset to the China Lakes the narrow gauge did run,
To push it northward to Quebec was old Frank Winter's plan –
And schooners were to bring his cargoes in to meet the train,
When he found you idle on the dock, he brought you down to Maine
Where the tides ebb and flow down below.
You know he tried the best he could, he just couldn't make it pay
So he ran you both aground, and turned around and walked away;
You've been waiting here for fifty years, but no one set you free,
Now you're broken down and dying, lying open to the sea,
And the tides ebb and flow down below.
Chorus: And the winter...
Now the people come to stare at you with wonder in their eyes
For times have changed since men knew how to work a ship your size.
The seas you sailed are running black; in time we'll know our loss –
It's too late now for you, but is it too late now for us?
Can you teach what you know before you go?
Final chorus:
For the winter is upon you now, and time is passing slow
And the tides ebb and flow down below.
17. The Parting Glass (trad.) - JohnB
John Burton (JohnB): vocals, Tina Burton: vocals, Ali Leonard: vocals
Arranged by Triangl
Our version of a familiar song of parting. Recorded while practising for a gig which we eventually
won a Bravo (Brampton "Ontario" Arts Council) award for. This song is to be featured in a forthcoming CD.
Of all the money that e'er I spent, I spent it in good company
And all the harm that ever I did: Alas it was to none but me
And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall
So fill to me the parting glass: Good night and joy be with you all
Well, of all the comrades that ever I've had, they are sorry for my going away.
And all the sweethearts that ever I've had, they would wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call: “Good night and joy be with you all”
18. Road To Ruin - closet-folkie
Written by Steve Robinson ©2007
Steve Robinson (closet-folkie): acoustic guitars, lead and background vocals, Ed Woltil: string arrangement
Dylan's 60s recordings aside, protest songs generally make me wince. I don't know why--I think they often come across as
petulant, self-aggrandizing and clunky. This is about as close to a protest/anti-war song as I get (I promise).
Believe it or not, lyrically, this one started off as a bit of a joke about how people seem
to have become more closeted and less apt to engage in face-to-face discourse. We sit close to
other people in cars, trains, restaurants and the like, but we have our iPods on or we're on a cell-phone talking to someone else;
unavailable for comment, so to speak.
I was in a restaurant one day and noticed that the walls were literally lined with big screen TV sets
that seemed to be tuned to different stations. On top of that, piped music totally unrelated to any of the shows, was blaring.
It appeared that one-on-one conversation seemed to be pretty far down the list of the patrons' priorities.
I found it rather humorous and sad at the same time, and began writing what was to become "Road To Ruin". The thing is, Road To Ruin is
a bit of a weighty, ominous refrain, and I thought that it needed a more serious lyric. Armed conflict in the name of religion fit the bill, I thought.
Before I knew it, I was singing of burning flags and body bags. If it's a bit heavy-handed, I apologise. It won't happen again.
From the CD Undercurrent on Sunshine Drenchy Records
www.steverobinsonmusic.com
Move your body to and fro
Languid in the undertow
Going where the currents go
On the road to ruin.
Shoot the lights out of the way
Watch the black and white turn gray
Signposts showing us the way
On the road to ruin.
Blame the young, blame the old
Blame it on the lies we told
Burning pictures, burning books
Some gods, they have all the luck.
Looking from the outside in
Turns me inside out.
Holy rhymes and pledges grave
That one kills and this one saves
You'll have lots of flags to wave
On the road to ruin.
We've got karma by the yard
Guess who left his calling card
Stay the course and you'll go far
On the road to ruin.
Blame the old, blame the young
Blame it on the songs we sung
Burning bridges, burning flags
Ashes or a body bag.
Looking from the outside in
Turns me inside out.
19. Die Lorelei - MAG, Genie and Lorelei
Written by Friedrich Silcher 1837 (Music)/ Heinrich Heine 1824 (Lyrics)
Singable English translation by Jeanene Pratt and Mary Ann Gilpatrick © 2011)
Jeanene Pratt (Genie) and Mary Ann Gilpatrick (MAG): voices, Lorelei Rice (Lorelei): Keyboard and flute
Contrary to what many believe, "Die Lorelei" is not "traditional." The Nazis tried to 'purge' Germany of the contributions of Jews to
its heritage. "Die Lorelei" was too deeply embedded in German culture to deny its popularity, so Hitler instead tried to strike the name
of the poet Heinrich Heine, a Jew, from the record, labelling the song as "traditional."
Ich weiß nicht, was soll es bedeuten, dass ich so traurig bin,
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten, das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.
Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt, und ruhig fließt der Rhein;
Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt, im Abendsonnenschein.
I know not why I am so troubled, my mind beset with dread.
An ancient story from somewhere I can't get out of my head.
The breeze is cool as the day fades and gently flows the Rhine.
The crest of the mountaintop sparkles in the last rays of evening sunshine.
Die schönste Jungfrau sitzet dort oben wunderbar,
Ihr gold'nes Geschmeide blitzet, sie kämmt ihr goldenes Haar,
Sie kämmt es mit goldenem Kamme und singt ein Lied dabei;
Das hat eine wundersame, gewaltige Melodei.
The wonderfully fairest of maidens is sitting so high up there.
Her golden bracelets are flashing; she combs her golden hair.
With a comb of gold she combs it; I hear the song that she sings.
With a haunting, overpowering melody it rings.
Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe ergreift es mit wildem Weh;
Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe, er schaut nur hinauf in die Höh'!
Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen am Ende Schiffer und Kahn,
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen, die Loreley getan.
The sailor in his little ship is wildly seized by grief.
Transfixed on the hilltop above him, he sees not the rocks of the reef.
I think that the waves will swallow the sailor and boat by and by,
And this, with her siren singing, was done by Lorelei.
20. Ain't Got The Blues - alanabit
Written by Alan Moorhouse ©
Alan Moorhouse Band: Alan Moorhouse (alanabit): Vocals and guitar, Gerhard Lewandowski: Guitar, Thomas Kärner: Keyboards,
John Thornber: Bass, Volker Neumann: Drums, Sascha Loss: Harp
A simple blues spoof which has proved popular at band and solo gigs over the years.
I woke up this morning, the dog was still alive
I was not yawning, I don't work 9 to 5
I did not feel hungover 'cause I hadn't had no booze
I just smiled at Rover, 'cause I ain't got the blues
Chorus:
No, I ain't got the blues, I ain't got the blues
Everything's going great for me and I ain't got the blues
At St James infirmary, my girlfriend is well
She's a nurse like my uncle Bill
On my birthday, they bought me nice new shoes
Oh, what a holiday - I ain't got the blues
Chorus
It did not rain on Monday, Tuesday was just fine
I sunbathed all day Wen'sday, Thursday was divine
The boss gave me the week off work and he paid my union dues
Everything's going great for me and I ain't got the blues
Chorus
Chorus
Chorus