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Subject: Mudcat Song Book gone
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 04:23 PM

Anyone have a complete copy of Aine's Mudcat Songbook? It is no longer online, though some of it can be found at the Way Back site.

I'll call or email Aine and see if she has files she could send so it can be archived. I'd hate to see that lost.

kat

Note from Joe Offer:
The complete Mudcat Songbook is available at https://web.archive.org/web/20220000000000*/http://www.geocities.com/doireanne/ but will be duplicated here for safekeeping.

The specific pages for each category within song challenge winners book are:

WINNERS OF THE GOLDEN COW CHIP AWARD WITH GUINNESS CREST

WINNERS OF THE GOLDEN COW CHIP AWARD WITH HARP RIBBON

WINNERS OF THE SUPER SPECIAL SANDSTONE SHEILA-NA-GIG OCARINA AWARD

WINNERS OF THE GOLDEN COW CHIP AWARD WITH SHAMROCK CLUSTER

WINNERS OF THE GOLDEN COW CHIP AWARD WITH MEMORIAL MMARIO SILVERPLATED SPITTOON

WINNERS OF THE GOLDEN COW CHIP AWARD WITH CLEIGH'S BLUE FUME SHIELD

WINNERS OF THE GOLDEN COW CHIP WITH TWO-FER-COUPON

WINNERS OF THE GOLDEN COW CHIP AWARD WITH DOO-LYN DITTY DIGGER DECORATION

WINNERS OF THE DOUBLE DIP COPPER COW CHIP (WITH SPRINKLES)

WINNERS OF THE WHOLE BAG O'CHIPS SPECIAL AWARD

WINNERS OF THE IMPERIAL ORDER OF THE ALL-IN-ONE GENIUS WITH PLATINUM TUFTS AWARD

Then there's the STORY TELLERS PAGE:

STORY TELLERS

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Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook gone?
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:01 PM

Looks like the last copy of the Songbook at archive.org was February 9, 2008
I think I'll change this into a PermaThread to hold the songbook. Please don't submit songs to this thread - at least, not for now. I haven't figured out an easy way to fix the index, so it won't work right until I have time to think about it. Kat will take care of contacting Aine. Thanks.
-Joe-

This is an edited Mudcat PermaThread©, intended to duplicate the offsite Mudcat Songbook. Feel free to post to this thread, but be aware that all posts are subject to editing or deletion. In fact, probably most or all messages will be deleted until the entire songbook has been posted. This thread will be moderated by Mousethief.
-Joe Offer, Forum Moderator

And yes, I know that this needs fixing. The links won't work until Mousethief completes this project.

The Mudcat Songbook
(Original Songs and Music from the Folks at The Mudcat Cafe)

Dedicated to Skarpi in Iceland (whose idea this was in the first place!)

The Mudcat Forum	The Mudcat Resource Pages	The Mudcat Midi Page	The Digital Tradition Folk Song Server
*New Page!*			*New Song Category!*
The Mudcat Storytellers' Page (Submissions Wanted!!) Got a great original story? Whether it be a knee-slapper or a five hanky tale, share it with the Mudcats on this very special page for very special storytellers.			Songs Of Inspiration and Celebration (Submissions Wanted!!) Have you got an original song of inspiration or celebration you'd like to share? Is there a special holiday song you've written? Now's your chance!

Anyone is welcome to perform these songs in public without royalties; however, if any of them are recorded or published for profit, the writers/composers expect the usual royalties.

Song Categories
Folk Songs	Songs of Inspiration and Celebration	Parodies	Thread Songs	Song Challenge Winners	Tunes

Folk Songs

Parodies

1999 Was The Date Of The Year by Dan Milner
A Bumbling Englishman by The Shambles
All Around My Fat by Penny Ward
Banks Of The Ohio (Revisited) by Sonja
The Birthday Song by Irish sergeant
Comin' Through The Rye by Alice
The Day They Slowed Ol' Mudcat Down by mousethief
The Devil Went Down to Dingle by Rich (Stupidbodhranplayerwhodoesn'tknowanybetter)
Do You Know The Way To Macramé by reggie miles
Don't Think Once by mousethief
Enron-ron-ron by mousethief
Fleece Mom and Dad! by Genie
The Hash My Father Scored by Micca
I'll Have Guinness Free by Sonja
Message to JennyO & Daylia by Nigel Parsons
Missing the Mudcat on the Banks of the Ohio by BSeed
Oh Boy, Danny by Peter Benson and Jeff Porterfield (jeffp)
Ripple (Flowed Like Water) by Sonja
The Road to Mudrock-O by Alice
Roll On Columbia by Alice
Roundup, Montana by Alice Flynn
Times Changing by Micca
Untitled (Tune-Auld Lang Syne) by Alice
You Can't Keep Me From Singing! by Gordon MacDonald

Thread Songs

A Better Way by Amos
A Mothers' Day by Spider Tom
A New Song for The Gathering by Matthew Edwards
A Scouting Song by InOBU, Morticia, Áine, Liz the Squeak, ivy b*
A Song for the Gathering by Matthew Edwards
All The Fighting, Lord by Amergin
Anonymous, Unreal and Phony by mousethief
Away Upon The Mudcat! by Amos
Ballade Of The Brave New World by McGrath of Harlow
Better Than You by Amos
Bigfoot by EBarnacle
Bowling With Rutabagas by Amos
By Your Fruits by MMario, Amos and Willa
Caitrin and the Geeks by Amos
California Steamin' by Anonymous
The Cat Farts Serenade by Áine, Liz the Squeak, and Paddymac
The Chromosomes Genomical by Bradypus
Come All You Loyal Mudcats by Alice
The Crash of the Mudcat Server by Amos
Dance In The Mudcat Tavern by Amergin
Deadbird by mousethief
Empty Nester's Blues by Amos
Explicit Lyrics by Bradypus
The Famous Yacht Alinghi by Schantieman
Farewell by Amergin
Fred Dyer's Bees by Amos
Gastronomic Passions :<)) by Amos
Golden Colorado by tradsteve
How Many Folkies Does It Take To Change A Lightbulb? by Amos
I Think We're Not Alone Now by mousethief
I Wanna Go Down by Amergin
Is It Only In The Stories Miracles Happen by GreatGoo
Lament Of A Guardsman by Amergin
Love Bytes by Bradypus
The Lovely Ship The Mudcat by Kelida
The Manchester Mudcat Ramble by Matthew Edwards
May Your Sword Never Grow Rusty by Malveka
The Mbo Bop by Amos, Áine, and Metchosin
The Memory Banks of Mudcat by Catspaw49
Missin' The Mudcat Blues by BSeed
Modern Magic by MMario
The Mudcat Tavern Anthem by Susan A-R, Bert, Áine, Mían, and Alice
Mudcat's Y2K For What It's Worth by Dave (the ancient mariner)
My Bodhrán Is Too Tight by Troll
My First Love by Amergin
Ode To The Captain's Hearts by Kelida and Mbo
Ode To Thread Creep by Harry
Paean To Cleigh by Micca
The Panda Hall/Tait by Calach
Post-Apocalyptic Frenzy Letdown by Jeri
Reload! by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish)
The Sex Life of Chinchillas by mousethief
The Ship from Old Russky (Mir) by mousethief
Sing It Elsewhere by The Shambles
Slug Songs (2) by Metchosin
The Submarine Kursk by IanC
Sugar Dog Man by Praise
Take Me Ol' Galoshes (English Version) by katlaughing, Metchosin and Mbo
Tak Me Ol' Galoshes (Highland Scots Version) by katlaughing, Metchosin and Mbo
That Dirty Little Coward! by Rick Fielding, Jeri, Sinsull, and Áine
There Once Was A Panda by Praise
Turing Testing Time by Bradypus
To Old Friend 'What-His-Name' by Kevin McGrath
The Towersey Ballad by Matthew Edwards
When A Packet Hits A Pocket by Author Unknown (submitted by Patrish)
The While Drover by The Shambles, Wolfgang, Alice, steve t., and Barbara
Whispers In The Breeze by Amergin
Will That Be Broadcast Or Cable, Sir? by Praise
The Woes Of The Gentlemen's Club by Amos and Lonesome EJ

Tunes

Tunes a-f
Tunes g-l
Tunes m-s
Tunes t-z
Andrea's Waltz by Mbo
Boo's Reel by Mbo
The First Thing by Mbo
Grandfather's Sporran by Mbo
The Green Autumn Stubble by Mbo
Israeli Reel by Mbo (ABC and Midi format)

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Subject: SB: 001 (by Amos)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:09 PM

Anyone is welcome to perform these songs in public without royalties; however, if any of them are recorded or published for profit, the writers/composers expect the usual royalties.

WILLIE-O'S SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

But they had not considered Saul
And Mark, and Matthew, John and Paul
And the messages they carried all
The Empire's end would see

Long after the barbaric knell
Dispersed the legions half to hell
Their stories still the monks would tell
Across the Northern seas

(Left for others to continue as they wish)

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Subject: Mudcat Songbook: 1066 (by Amos)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:10 PM

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Subject: SB: 1603-March 25th by MMario
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:13 PM

WILLIE-O'S SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

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Subject: Mudcat Songbook:Virginia Dare (1606) - Lonesome EJ
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:15 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!

Virginia Dare (1606) by Lonesome EJ

LEJ's Comments: Virginia Dare was the first child born to English Colonists in North America. Her parents were Ananias and Ellinor Dare, Ananias being the Governor of the Roanoke Colony. She was born the year of the colony's establishment, 1597. Three months after her birth, Sir Walter Raleigh (the Founder of Roanoke) returned to England for additional supplies and settlers. The outbreak of hostilities with the Spanish prevented Raleigh's return until 1601, when no trace was found of the Roanoke Colony, other than the word Croatoan carved on a tree. Genetic studies on a local Native American tribe indicate the presence of European DNA, suggesting the survivors were absorbed into the local Native American population. My thought behind the song was this: Had she survived (along with some few others from the Roanoke Colony), Raleigh, her parents, the galleons and England itself would have been well remembered by the surviving adults, but she would know them only through stories. In a way, they might have become part of a personal mythology to her, a mythology that would seem doubly magical for having no counterpart in her new life. Life would have been difficult at best living as a member of a native tribe -- I believe she would have seen the galleon sails as s sort of divine intervention.

Each evening as the sun does set, I stand upon the shore
To gaze upon the endless sea, to hear the breakers roar
To seek against horizon's edge the bright returning sails
Until the stars are in the East, and the fading daylight fails.

It has been nine summers now since my birth in Roanoke
and six years since the fever came to claim my friends and folk
Brave Raleigh swore he would return, when he left with galleons three
But it is nine years, and still no sign of sail upon the sea.

One hundred twenty-seven souls dwelled in our colony
But hunger and the pestilence brought us down to twenty three
Ananias, my Father, and my Mother Ellinor
Were buried with the others on this dark and foreign shore.

And though the drought was savage, with little for any to eat
A tribe of Indians took us in and gave us corn and meat
They took us in their canoes from the death at Roanoke
And Will Clarke carved our new home's name "Croatoan" on an oak.

And I am nine years old now, and these people think it odd
I long for returning strangers, from England's foreign sod
But still I stand upon the shore, and search for foreign sails
Until the stars are in the East, and the fading daylight fails.

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Subject: SB: 1743 (The Ballad of Farquhar Shaw) by Willie-O
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:17 PM

1743 (The Ballad of Farquhar Shaw) by Willie-O
(For tune in ABC format, click here)

Willie-O's Comments:   This is a pretty much accurate account of a mass mutiny of a bunch of highlanders in the Black Watch, as described by John Prebble in his book "Mutiny!" It took me basically one night to write this, the story had every element you could want for a good Scottish song–an English betrayal, (not only were the soldiers lied to about their destination, they were not getting enough oatmeal–how to piss off a Scot!) a triple execution, and a mass exile. There were some odd twists to the story–in fact, nine of the mutineers must have made it home (from London back to the Highlands, on foot, with most of the British army looking for them) for they were never heard of again. The last verse is conjecture on my part – some of the exiled mutineers were sent to Georgia, to a colony that was about to disappear. Many years later it was found that some Scotsmen, exact origins unknown, had joined forces and intermarried with Cherokees, (before the Trail of Tears when they were still in the East, obviously) according to the book "Creek Mary's Blood" by Dee Brown, which describes a natural affinity between the two peoples. I like the idea that some of the mutineers or their descendants found freedom in North America.

1.     Of Farquhar Shaw from Rothiemurchus a tale there is to tell
        A private of the king's Black Watch and one that I knew well.
        For I'm a piper from the same, I'm Donald MacDonell
        And them that calls us mutineers can all go rot in hell.

2.     Our regiment was Highland-born and there we should have stayed.
        We're told we'll keep the peace at home and wear our colours plaid.
        But it's first we're marched to Edinburgh, then Berwick on the Tweed,
        Then they sent us off to London town, spring 1743.

3.    We're told we'll just be strolling down to parade before the King.
        And then to turn about and to our families return.
        They must have thought us bloody fools, or half-wits not to know.
        We were bound for to fight the French in Flanders.

4.    In a tavern on the Great North Road we met some lowland Scots.
        And for each one that still drew breath were nine comrades did not.
        They told us we were lucky men if only Flanders was our lot
        For ten times worse were the fever swamps of Jamaica.

5.    The King he never saw us but just ordered us to war.
        Whether Flanders or Jamaica did nae matter any more.
        Betrayed and angry Highlanders, a hundred and a score
        Determined that they'd march for hame, and soldiers be no more.

6.    We met on Finchley Common on the seventeenth night of May
        Gathered in the darkness and prepared to steal away.
        It was there our sergeant found us and he ordered us to stay
        But Farquhar Shaw o'erpowered him, and we went on our way.

7.    Now Shaw was not some Highland laird of gentlemanly birth;
        A cattle thief, to tell the truth, but I hold him in some worth,
        For when ninety-eight of us stepped out, and all laid down our swords
        He swore he'd die or reach his mountains and his freedom.

8.    Though sick he was and wearing still the Regiment's green plaid,
        Shaw travelled on for three more days, and sixty miles he made
        Until exhaustion laid him low and he was found by William Sneyd
        And sent to join us in the Tower of London.

9.    They'd singled out two corporals and a piper for to die
        The corporals were MacPherson lads and the piper he was I.
        But when Shaw was taken prisoner the courts did then decide
        Instead of me he would be shot with the MacPhersons.

10.    Three knelt upon the ground within the Tower chapel yard
        A musket volley finished them and the leaving it was hard.
        But for a' that, their souls were freed, while ours would soon be scarred
        For we're transported and shall ne'er again see Scotland.

11.    Some went tae Gibraltar and some the Leeward Isles,
        But the last of us was Georgia bound in the colonies sae wild.
        I'll ne'er again pass Arthur's Seat and tae my Highland hame retire
        But my pipes still keen in the haunted glens of Georgia.
        I'll ne'er again pass Arthur's Seat and tae my Highland hame retire
        But my pipes still keen in the haunted glens of Georgia.

c. Bill Cameron, 1984

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Subject: SB: 1AD and 1BC by McGrath of Harlow
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:20 PM

WILLIE-O'S SONG CHALLENGE WINNER!

Kevin McGrath 2000

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Subject: SB: The '65 Newport Ragtop Blues by reggie miles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:22 PM

The '65 Newport Ragtop Blues by reggie miles 2003

reggie's Comments: A drivin', vaguely folkish, rockin' blues, it's inspired by my very own midlife Chrysler and my somewhat checkered experiences with my musical pursuits.

Flyin' down the highway,
Loaded for a gig,
My radio is rappin'.
My ragtop is flappin',
To pieces in the wind.

People stare but I don't care,
At my midlife Chrysler sled.
Yeah she's a long, low, lean,
Mean American machine,
And she loves to burn lead.

These one night stands are goin' nowhere.
But what's a poor boy got lose?
My radiator's got a leak.
I'm burnin' oil like a sheik.
I've got the '65 Newport ragtop blues.

Traffic is a jammin',
In the gray overcast.
My 383's puffin' smoke,
My odometer is broke,
I'm goin' nowhere fast.

The rain starts to fallin'.
The wiper's givin' up the ghost.
The steerin' pump is squeelin'.
I gotta bad feelin'.
She won't make the next post.

People say, "Don't play your life away,
Spinnin' yer wheels in those same ol' grooves."
I'm usin' what I got cuz it's all I got to use.
I got the '65 Newport ragtop blues.

People say, "Cut your hair and get a real job."
But then, who's gonna pay my dues?
I just wave, so long, as I pass them by,
With the '65 Newport ragtop blues.

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Subject: SB: A Conversation In Bed by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:25 PM

A Conversation In Bed by Amergin

She holds him to her dampened breast
Wiping his eyes, glistening with sweat
His hair curls across his forehead, red, brown wet
He presses his face deep into her shoulder
Feeling his tears dripping down his face
As the salt gently coats her fair skin
The water sizzles with the warmth of her embrace

She tells to him, her own tears in her voice,
"I am so very sorry for hurting your heart,
I just don't know what to do, what is best for you
This confusion is tearing me apart.
You know I never promised you a future
You deserve a girl better than one like me
One that can give to you what you need
One that can give you a bouncing baby."

He pulls himself from her tear-stained body
And looks into the pupils of her eyes
"Yes," his voice cracks in his ears
"I could find a girl," he softly sighs
"I could find one that doesn't have kids
One who knows what she wants, not confused
One who lets me take care of her
But that other girl would not be you."

She tugs him close to her body once more
As his body twitches in time with hers
Sobbing escaping two sets of lips
To be with her he secretly yearns
He feels the fluid crawling down his cheek
And listens to the music of his silent weeping
He thinks of their times walking together
His breathing slows and soon he is sleeping

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Subject: SB: Across the Miles and Over the Years by Amos
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:27 PM

Across the Miles and Over the Years by Amos

From the hills of the Highlands
To the deep Yalu valleys,
And the spice caravans,
That we rode long ago;
From the high Delphic temple,
To the bullet-stained trenches
To the bright cusp of morning
On the far polar snow

Over ages of failure
Over triumphs undimming
From the gutters of Paris
To the castles of Rome
On the far Berber hilltops,
And the wild Indian Ocean
I have heard you forever,
Always calling me home.

Chorus:

Across the miles and over the years,
I hear you call:
"When will you come home?
When will you come home?"
Over
And over.

From the ancient beginnings
On a forgotten planet
To far hills where Arcturus
Brings the light of the dawn
From a lifetime of wonder
To the dead steaming jungle
One sure note has continued
Always, calling me on.

Chorus:

Across the miles and over the years,
I hear you call:
"When will you come home?
When will you come home?"
Over
And over.

Bridge:

     I need no journey other than simply finding you
     The wildest place or time cannot undo me
     A single thread of knowing you are true
     Will always renew me

From the galaxy's center
To a small sleepy planet
Where the song of the ocean
Meets the dreams of the dew
Over light years and aeons
Over battles and dying
Still your voice sweetly calls me,
Always strong, always new

Chorus:

Across the miles and over the years,
I hear you call:
"When will you come home?
When will you come home?"
Over
And over.

Coda:
     Over,
     And over
     Again.

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Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook gone?
From: Jeri
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 05:55 PM

The links don't work, as they refer to documents in the directory where the thread WAS. I fixed the first few of them. Other mods can see what I did (Just stuck "#message number" in where "songtitle.html" is) and maybe help out.

And yes, I hope this post gets deleted, augmented, moved or whatever else might help.

Don't worry about it, Jeri. I'll figure out some sort of global "replace" doodad when I get to that point. The Index is truncated, so I have to figure out how to fit it all in. If people can help me find the "missing" songs and post their location or lyrics here, that would be very helpful. Also, I haven't found the Storytelling section yet - can anybody find it.

-Joe-

Good luck with 'gobally' replacing a bunch of unique relative links with a bunch of different unique relative links, but I won't worry about it.

--Jeri

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Subject: SB: A Different Kind by Mrs. Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:16 PM

A Different Kind by Mrs. Shambles

Taken from the cradle, you bent them to your will,
Born for you to sacrifice, whilst teaching them to kill.
You taught them how to use the gun, the knife, the hands, the heart,
Children of obedience, they've learnt to play their part.
Do they call you father, Hitler of Saddam?
You nurture their dependence, they act at your command,
The history of their nation, distorted and confused,
While they keep asking questions, you see they're yours to use.

Watch them grow but keep in mind,
The power of your destruction, is building from behind.
Heartless souls have leaned to find,
That the murder of their innocence, has bred; a different kind.

But when the rage is over, the wind is blowing cold,
Do you think they'll put away the toys they know of old?
Returning to their families, a viper in the nest,
You'll find they'll teach their loved ones to skills that they know best.
A country born of murder, a country born of lust,
Rallying together, where can you place your trust?
There are no moral boundaries, living in your land,
They won't accept surrender by the raising of your hand.

Watch them grow but keep in mind,
The power of your destruction, is building from behind.
Heartless souls have leaned to find,
That the murder of their innocence, has bred; a different kind.

You chose to fuel the furnace, you chose to use the small,
They did the fighting for you, whilst you hid behind closed doors.
Machines of your destruction, you failed to see had grown,
Turning now to face you are the seeds that you had sown.
No longer seen as saviour, leader or their God,
They seek to overthrow you and feed you to the dogs.
They'll fight and kill to gain the prize, awarded to the few,
Is it with pride, you turn to see they've grown to be like you?

Watch them grow but keep in mind,
The power of your destruction, is building from behind.
Heartless souls have leaned to find,
That the murder of their innocence, has bred; a different kind.

Watch them grow but keep in mind,
The power of your destruction, is building from behind.
Heartless souls have leaned to find,
That the murder of their innocence, has bred; a different kind.

Katrina Gall 1998

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Subject: SB: A Dilly Of A Tale by reggie miles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:19 PM

A Dilly Of A Tale by reggie miles

Oh listen to me people as I tell you the tale,
of a bad bunch of dills that got put on sale.
I guess pickle pickin' ain't my fortay,
Cuz I usually choose the cheapest ones on display.

I bought a jar just the other day,
hopin' to enjoy'em with a sandwich I made,
but when I took a big bite of that first little cuke,
I had to spit it out, it almost made me puke.

The taste was not at all apetizin'
and nearly got my stomach to risin'.
I thought it was probably the only one in the jar,
and sampled another just to be sure.

Well sir, sure enough the second one tasted,
just as bad as the first, my money was wasted.
Then later I checked again to see
and took a little nibble on pickle number three.

You'd think by now I would've learned my lesson,
pickle three was awful, I am confessin'.
Now any normal guy would've thrown'em out
but I was willin' t' give'em the benefit of doubt.

And to be certain I hadn't left a good one behind,
I tried every single pickle in that horrible brine.
Go the extra mile, is what I always say,
though I think I might change after this hospital stay.

I got poisonin', of the pickle kind.
They say in a couple o' weeks I'll be fine.
That is of course if I don't get,
acuke complications along with it.

I thought I'd get even with them dillinquent merchants,
and get a refund on my ill dill purchase.
But when I brought the jar back to get my money returned,
all I got was this lesson learned.

They refused sayin', they'd all been et.
I gotta admit I was kind of upset.
Oh listen to my story, lend an ear,
don't make the same mistake I made here.

If you ever get a notion to save a couple o' nickles,
and want to try to buy some cheap discount pickles.
Don't do it! Put'em back on the shelf!
Think of your poor tiny taste buds health!

Go for broke!
Spend a few extra nickles!
Cuz there ain't nothin' worse
than bad dill pickles.

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Subject: SB: A Dram For Yarrow by InOBU
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:34 PM

A Dram For Yarrow by InOBU

While posting on the mudcat site,
so many a tune did borrow,
my songs inflamed, many a fascist clan
and one wee guest named Yarrow

This Yarrow she did post with spite
and many a phrase so callow
Invective she hurled with all her might
did this one wee guest named Yarrow

But words bereft of mighty wit
where met with naught but sorrow
for one who posts with no real point
this one wee guest named Yarrow

So poets all, raise up yer glass
We'll toast and sing till it be morrow
And when the words flow fast and free
We'll have a dram for Yarrow

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Subject: SB: A Good Line by Spider Tom
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:35 PM

A Good Line by Spider Tom

One night, I was dreaming, and I woke up moaning,
I found a perfect stranger, there inside my bed.
I was thrown, in a panic, I'm just a broke mechanic,
So I tried to diagnose, the miss inside my head.

My thoughts were retrieving, the previous evening,
I had a recollection, of nothing much, at all
A bed-fellow delicious, or bed-fellow , vicious,
She sighed in her sleep, and turned to the wall.

I was never, ever fine, at a good pick up line,
And confusion, and stale wine, tortured my dull head,
This was no apparition, was she there, from my wishing,
Last night, I'd gone fishing, now a girl is in my bed.
.
Her grey eyes, gave a flutter, no word did she utter,
She flung back the blanket, and gave a little flail,
My eyes, started popping, my jaw, started flopping,
Instead of two long legs, she sported, a fish-tail.

What a wild, fish-story, there in her glory,
Was the finest of Mermaids, that fell, for a good line.
Should I seduce, or scale her, I was bound, to fail her,
My body still all droopy, from the bottles of wine.

She gave me a hurt look, showed me where my hook,
Had pierced her lower lip, said she felt the sting.
I said,"be mine, forever, I won't hurt you ever,
Your mouth is just adorable, I'll give you a lip-ring."

All things in life, are winnable, your chance, at best is probable.
And love becomes unstoppable, as passions rise and fall,
A mermaid, oh so fine, can be caught with a good line,
When providence devine, gives two hearts a call.

We now share a zacuzzi,she never was a floosie,
We were wedded, by the ocean, to the singing of the whales,
We fell, hook, line and sinker,and as I love to tinker,
She showed me how to get inside her scales.

I was never, ever fine, at a good pickup line,
"Luck", is a fisherman, I have often said.
This was no apparition, she was there from her wishing,
I've given up fishing, keep scaleing her instead.

© Ken Robertson 29/10/1999

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Subject: SB: A Grown-ups' Lullaby by CapriUni (Ann Magill)
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:37 PM

A Grown-ups' Lullaby by CapriUni (a/k/a Ann Magill)

It's been many years since you lay in the cradle,
been many years since the tooth fairy came,
many long years since the moon played a ladle.
But, oh, let me sing "lullaby," just the same.

Beyond these four walls is a world filled with beauty:
gems in the mountains and stars in the sky.
Lay down your burden and rest from your duty,
and drift off to sleep while I sing "lullaby."

Just trade all your worries for dreams and bright visions.
Let all your fears fade away in the night.
Soar through the cosmos and sail golden oceans.
Return to the world with your hopes shining bright.

And though many miles may stretch wide between us,
as over this world we wander and roam,
Know that in my love, you'll find a safe haven;
As long as I'm living you're never alone.

It's been many years since we lay in the cradle,
been many years since the tooth fairy came,
many long years since the moon played a ladle,
But, oh, we still need lullabies, just the same.

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Subject: SB: A Late Night Walk by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:39 PM

A Late Night Walk by Amergin

I am walking down the sidewalk
Through the darkened neighborhood
Feet thudding through the snow
Fingers grazing the icy wood
I stare above the ghostly streetlamps
And into the cloud covered skies
To find myself staring into the depths
Of the color of your hazel eyes

I stroll on down the slushy street,
A shadow dancing in the gloom,
Treading softly upon the pavement
My footsteps echo in the tomb
I look upon a frozen snow bank
Weary eyes are turning glossed
And there in the blackened shade
I see your smile etched in the frost

I softly pad up to the darkened porch
Hearing the water lightly drip down
Snow falling from my dampened shoes
Remnants of my saunter round town
I easily open the two front doors
To escape the winter of a dying year
I tilt my head and silently listen
To your laughter singing in my ears

© Nathan Tompkins

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Subject: SB: A Little Titian by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:40 PM

A Little Titian by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: This started out to be a harsh comment on the 'art' world but ended up being a tribute to an individual artist. It is also about how to achieve a kind of immortality and a good excuse for a lot of heavy name-dropping.

If you want your portrait done
Go to the man who's number one
Where do I place my commission?
Do I ask Picasso?
Or Michaelangelo?
No, Venice is the place to go
For a little Titian

Don't want to appear, in no Vermeer
Or the 'Laughing Cavalier'
Idiot grin, frozen in, one position
Poor Franz Hals
He should ask his pals
As to just how?
You get a little Titian

I could have asked Van Gogh
But he took the (y)ear off
Well surely, there was a man with a mission?
But a year in Provence
Is not the Renaissance
When all one wants
Is a little Titian

Well I'm no prude
But to be painted in the nude
To stand up and shed my inhibitions
Like 'The Venus Of Urbino'
In a cold studio
Is that why she shows?
Just a little Titian

Don't want to hang in the Louvre
I'd prefer to be on the move
Go around the world in a travelling exhibition
But The Uffitzi?
Would maybe suit me?
For there I could see
A room full of Titian

Among kings and heads of state
Amongst the good and the great
Philosophers and mathematicians
You, won't want my face
Hanging around your place
But you'd find the space
For a little Titian

Roger Gall

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Subject: SB: A Mere Man by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:41 PM

A Mere Man by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: Not one of my best songs, I know, but it was how I felt at the time. Having done something positive, I do feel a little more like myself now........ Please feel free to make yourself feel better and respond with songs, poems, insults, whatever?.............. Or you are free not to respond at all. ..........But it would be nice if you did.

A mere man, logical, hard-bitten
A mere man, no woman's intuition, just a man

An innocent, lost at sea
Undercurrents, swirl about me
Surprised, by what they might bring
The only thing I do right, is the wrong thing

A mere man, next to useless
A mere man, no hormonal excuses, just a man

Well I'm nobody's fool
I try hard to live by the rules
I get them logged in my brain
Only to find, they have changed again

A mere man, under pressure
A mere man, no not the oppressor, just a man

I'm the one that takes the blast
For all the injustice of the past
But can the whole of history
Be put entirely down to me?

A mere man, on one level
A mere man, no not the Devil, just a man

Not my prerogative to change my mind
Not complicated and I think you'll find
Your role is not of my design
For, I'm just as trapped with mine

A mere man, logical, hard-bitten
A mere man, no woman's intuition, just a man

Roger Gall 1999

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Subject: SB: The Mother's Kiss by Don Meixner
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:43 PM

The Mother's Kiss by Don Meixner
(words are copyrighted by: Donald R. Meixner. Music is traditional: Tramps and Hawkers )

Don's Comments: A mother and child were found laying in a ditch in the shade of a tree. Cheeks sunken and hollow and lips stained green from trying to ear enough grass to sustain them. My comment on the starvation of the Irish people. I wrote this about 8 years ago and have sung it out only once. Help yourselves and sing it if you like. Just tell people where it came from and if you record it and make mint of it, send me some money too. :-)))

I met a woman along the road, a baby on her arm,
She wore a shawl to wrap them both but it could not keep them warm,
When she brought forth her bowl to beg, to feed her yet unborn,
A tale she told of the ancient cold indiference and scorn.

And green was the mother's kiss upon the babies head,
That lay upon the withered breast that mother England bled,
And the green that stains the cotton cloth will surely stain the skin,
And the green can't feed the child with out or the one that sleeps with in.

Ascended lords came to the north andtook away our lands,
With foreign steel and foreign law and foreign force of hands,
They drove us from our ancient homes in serfdoms chains once more,
And while Saxons fed on Irish bread, we starved outside the door.

What they took would have feed us both, feed us all and then,
If what were left had been cut by half, it would have feed us twice again.
But England sent our bounty south, our cattle sheep and corn,
And left what grew in blighted soil to feed the native born.

And green was the mother's kiss upon the babies head,
That lay upon the withered breast that mother England bled,
And the green that stains the cotton cloth will surely stain the skin,
And the green can't feed the child with out or the one that sleeps with in.

I pray the day will never come when famine times draw nigh,
When a father's tears fall to the ground as his children fail and die,
I pray the lord will guide us and keep us safe and warm,
And in the autumn of the year, bring forth the golden corn.

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Subject: SB: A Non-scents Song! by Bradypus
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 06:46 PM

This song was posted in response to a song challenge made by McGrath of Harlow on this thread. Below is the newstory that prompted McGrath's challenge:

Mounties Punish Fragrant Offences (June 4, 2000) -- The Canadian province of Nova Scotia has outlawed perfume in public places after claims that it contains toxic chemicals . The ban, observed in government buildings, schools and a growing number of private workplaces includes all fragrances, including those in hairspray and gel, mouthwash and deodorants. Some employees have been sent home to shower for being too sweetly scented. The ban signals a victory for anti-perfume activists who lobbied outside the City Hall of the province's capital, Halifax, wearing gas masks. Their complaint is that fragrance is composed of undisclosed chemicals, some of which cause MCS - multiple chemi cal sensitivity. Critics say MCS is a spurious condition. In Halifax not everyone has come to terms with the anti-perfume rule. An 84-year-old woman was escorted from a council meeting at City Hall for having a dab of perfume behind her ears. Sheet Harbour High School was the scene of another scent showdown when a 17-year-old pupil refused to trade in his hair gel and deodorant for unscented alternatives. It almost got him a criminal record. His teacher, highly sensitive to fragrance, blamed the scent for triggering a vomiting attack. She called the incident an 'assault' and was backed by the school. The teen was handed over to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police but released without charge.

Bradypus' Comments: I've probably used the same pun too often in this - but I enjoyed having a challenge again. The tune is 'Mountain Dew', and the last four lines are lifted almost directly from one of the versions in Digitrad - but you've got to end a song somehow.

A Non-scents Song! by Bradypus

In Canada's land certain things are banned
Which will come as no surprise
But the government has now banned scent
I'm telling you no lies
Perfume in the air has now turned rare
In government and school
They can quickly tell if you smell too well
That you've broken their new rule.

In Halifax they were wearing masks
Chemical Sensitivity
Can make you sick if the perfume's thick
So they've banned it now, you see
Hypochondriacs with vomiting attacks
Or sensitive souls at home
It matters not how the law we've got
We're now a scents – free zone.

A dab behind the ears can lead to tears
Shower gel to an early bath
Now deodorant has no odour in't
As we go down the scent – free path
If you've got B O, better let it show
Or you could be done for assault
If you don't use scents, then you've got a defence
That the odour's not your fault

In the gardens and the parks there are many sparks
As the flowers quit the town
It may be common sense, but their common scents
Could have them all sent down
But my Auntie June has a sweet perfume
It has such a wonderful 'pew'
But it's legal still, fully natural
It's the real old mountain dew !

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Subject: SB:A Prayer For The Madness Of Leap Year by Praise
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:08 PM

A Prayer For The Madness Of Leap Year by Praise
(A slow waltz dirge or lament? In blues/gospel style?)
Sorry, can't notate or ABC yet, I wish you could hear the melody...)

CHORDS:
Intro:
Cm / / / / /

Verse:
Cm / / / / / Fm / / / / / G7 / / / / / Cm / / / / /
Cm / / / / / Fm / / / / / G7 / / / / / Cm / / / / /
Fm / / / / / Cm / / / / / Fm / / / / / Cm / / / / /
Cm / / / / / Fm / / / / / G7 / / / / / Cm / / / / /

People, all over, again, are shocked-- not surprised-- and saddened, and this time, for Kayla.
At Buell, a whole classroom of the helpless stood by. Lives forever are riven.
Lord... we've fallen again... Lord, where DO we begin?
First grade babies! Outrage, despair-- to Your cross by this sadness, I'm driven.

The horrible acts of humanity's weakness I lay at your feet, for your cleansing.
Your tears flow freely as we carry on, but I fear that we don't see or feel them.
Help us... hold fast to the joy, of the wondrous creation you gave.
Our children, our lives, our friends and foes, and the children-- unblessed and unshriven.

"Geezis", some cry out, do they know your Name, do they know you had come to redeem us?
Sweet Jesus, suffering, weeping Christ, how do we achieve your compassion?
Some of us praying.... And some are ranting away.
No one with answers, but plenty of words, and too much, in our too-human fashion.

Others shout out their mourning and grief, and despite knowing most are not listening.
These words that we to Your ocean's crests-- are you searching? I pray that you hear us.
Lord... we need You. Lord.... can we heed you?
Looking only into a mirror, we have only the thorns, and no roses.

Once again people are asking why You would allow such an evil to happen.
Why aren't they asking, humble and meek, how to love as you love all your children?
Blaming in weakness... Desperate to see what they will not see.
But I wonder Lord, I just don't understand, why you haven't yet struck us all barren.

Women, your sons stand beside a boy who had no one to love or to raise him.
Men, you are fathers, your own little girl bleeds on a cold floor, and lays dying.
Where were all of us? Why can we only feel this disgust?
Where are our hearts when we hear through our walls, that another lost soul lies crying?

Lord, I pray that you give us Your strength, for so often, we choose what is evil.
Lord, I ask that you hear what we cannot and do not know how to petition.
Lord.. I'm trying to praise; but Lord... but my eyes are a-haze.
Lord, please send us Your spirit of love to end all our wars of attrition.

Stand beside us and lend us Your wisdom, and bind us in Your understanding.
Take the love in our grief and despair and remake it in your holy image.
I don't understand why, Lord, you died for me. But I know you still suffer upon Calvary.
Lord, I lift up my voice to your ear, and I ask you to save our small village.

People, all over, again, are shocked-- not surprised-- and saddened, and this time, for Kayla.
At Buell, a whole classroom of the helpless stood by. Lives forever are riven.
Lord... we've fallen again... Lord, where DO I begin?
First grade babies! Outrage, despair-- to Your cross by this sadness, I'm driven.

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Subject: SB: A Run for Home by Metchosin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:09 PM

A Run for Home by Metchosin (a work in progress)

(In loving memory of David and Wendy Trail, John Trail and Mary Anne Grubb, lost at sea, November, 1978)

On a gray November day
The Gustav made its way
Round the rocks and down the inlet
Out to sea,
And its engine throbbed and droned,
As it plunged and rolled to home
Through the rising wind and foam
Of heaving sea.

Through an agony of time
While they pace and fret and pine
For a message from their loved ones,
Out at sea,
Arrival day came and went
With no word, no signal sent
To end worry and lament,
Oh, where at sea?

The Pacific's northern gale
Leaves no trace, tells no tale,
Of lives in ships, storm tossed
On wild seas,
Just a single fishing float
Bearing name of missing boat
Flung in a cove remote
By roiling sea.

On a windswept grassy knoll
Above the ceaseless breakers roll
Where wind crook'd pine is stooped
By timeless sea,
Lies a cold, flat granite stone
Forgotten and alone
And carved words cut to the bone:
"Lost at sea".

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Subject: SB: A Seafarer's Lament by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:14 PM

A Seafarer's Lament by Amergin
(Tune: Connemara Cradle Song)

I stand on the deck, looking over the sea
Remembering her form a-waving to me
I hear her voice calling, "Come back to me"
Floating on the wind coming over the sea

Chorus:
Hear the wind blow, dear,
Hear the wind blow
Lean you head over
And hear the wind blow

The stars are bright as they dance in the sky,
The sky is lightening as morning draws nigh
Blow the wind gently and calm be the sea
Do you see the same stars, the same stars as me?

Chorus:
The night is over and my watch is now done
I stand to the east, dear, and I greet the sun
I lie in my bunk, love, dreaming of you
As you sit waiting, far across the blue

Chorus:
The day will come, when we stand on the shore
And I will go sailing, a-sailing no more
I will hold you tightly, your cheeks shining bright
And sleep in your arms, dear, serenely at night,

©Nathan Tompkins

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Subject: SB: A Sleepless Night by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:15 PM

A Sleepless Night by Amergin

I lie in the bed beside you
Watching your sleeping form
Running my hand along your side
Feeling your flesh, soft and warm
I try to close my weary eyes
But the haven of sleep eludes me
Restless, I listen to your breath
Rising, falling like the dancing sea

But I am leaving you tomorrow
Amidst the scattered rain
Up to Bonners and Sandpoint
Upon the evening train
My thoughts will be with you
As you sit there all alone
As I pass the lonesome miles
Across the hills of home

My arms are wrapped around you
Soaking up your female heat
Listening to the trucks roll past
On a distant moonlit street
I softly kiss the back of your neck
As the tears leak from my eyes
Holding you softly to my body
Waiting for the sun to finally rise

But I am leaving you tomorrow
Amidst the scattered rain
Up to Bonners and Sandpoint
Upon the evening train
My thoughts will be with you
As you sit there all alone
As I pass the lonesome miles
Across the hills of home

I hope that you will be there
To watch the train shudder and wind
Down those cold wet steel tracks
As we hear the whistle grind
I hope that you will be there
To kiss me one last goodbye
To last till the time I return
From the distant northern skies

But I am leaving you tomorrow
Amidst the scattered rain
Up to Bonners and Sandpoint
Upon the evening train
My thoughts will be with you
As you sit there all alone
As I pass the lonesome miles
Across the hills of home

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Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook gone?
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:22 PM

Amos, thanks. I HOPE they did so!

Great job, Joe and Jeri!

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Subject: SB: A Soldier's Lament by Irish sergeant
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:30 PM

A Soldier's Lament by Irish sergeant

It was only Starvation that drove me from our land,
When famine visited dear old Erin's shore.
And Nary a soul would help me or offer up a hand,
'Til they needed Erin's sons to fight their war.

And dear Mary how I miss you as the bugles fill the air
and the morning sun is reaching for the sky.
How I long to run my fingers through your long and silken hair,
and hear the curlews sing as day goes by.

But it's 18 years this summer I've been upon this shore.
and a soldier's life's the only one I know.
Still I sit among my comrades and I listen to their snores,
And I wonder is there any place to go.

And my darling wife I miss you on this humid summer night
and I wonder if I've ever loved you more.
A thousand men lie broken after today's fight,
and I'm praying for the end of this damned war.

My face is stained with powder and my eyes are filled with tears,
And the bitter gall of warfare fills my heart.
I buried our dear boy today and I'm feeling all my years,
And I'll never still the anguish in my heart.

And dear Mary, how I miss you as the bugles fill the air,
And the morning sun is reaching for the sky.

How I long to run my fingers through your long and silken hair,
and hear the curlews sing as days go by.
And I'm praying no more soldiers have to die.

© Neil K. MacMillan

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Subject: SB: A Song for Mudcatters by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:31 PM

A Song for Mudcatters by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: It is not very likely, unfortunately, that the vast majority of Mudcatter's are ever going to be in the same place at the same time, physically. Although it seems like it happens on-line, sometimes and this was the thought behind this song. Maybe those who are lucky enough to get together could sing it (and others) for those of us that are not there?

It has not received a title yet, what would you suggest a good title might be (or is this asking for trouble)?

To be strummed, lustily, around the campfire, or on lonely hilltops, in good old G major.

G
Just another singer
C
With just another guitar
G
It don't matter what you want to be
...........D
It only matters who you are
G
I look forward to that day
...........C
And I hope it won't be long
..............C.........D......................G
When we all get to sing the same song

C..................................G
We can sing it it high and we can sing it low
C...........................D
We can sing it fast and we can sing it slow
G
I look forward to that day
................C
And I hope it won't be long
....................G........D..................G
When we all get to sing the same song

We come from many countries
We are both old and young
We may all come from many faiths
But the singing makes us one
I look forward to that day
And I hope it won't be long
When we all get to sing the same song

place for ocarina solo

We can sing it it high and we can sing it low
We can sing it fast and we can sing it slow
I look forward to that day
And I hope it won't be long
When we all get to sing the same song

We have different views
That's the way it'll always be
It don't matter who's right or wrong
We'll just agree to disagree
I look forward to that day
And I hope it won't be long
When we all get to sing the same song

Place for massed tiple ensemble

We can sing it it high and we can sing it low
We can sing it fast and we can sing it slow
I look forward to that day
And I hope it won't be long
When we all get to sing the same song

It may come as a struggle
It maybe just a breeze
You may sing like a croaking frog
Or the birds up in the trees
I look forward to that day
And I hope it won't be long
When we all get to sing the same song

We can sing it it high and we can sing it low
We can sing it fast and we can sing it slow
I look forward to that day
And I hope it won't be long
When we all get to sing the same song

Australian marching bands and big finish

Roger Gall 1999

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Subject: SB: Ahukahuba How 'Bout You? by Reggie Miles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:32 PM

Ahukahuba How 'Bout You? by Reggie Miles

Reggie's Comments: Here's a little escapist ditty I started a long time ago but only recently completed with a third verse. A short, sweet, three chord, Hawaiian styled song with a single fantasy nonsense Hawaiian type word in the title and chorus. Can you guess which? Well I don't speak Hawaiian. I just hope I didn't inadvertently spell something too offensive. ;o)

Close your eyes and drift away,
to where the skies are blue and the palm trees sway.
Where the island folk sing and dance all day.
Ahukahuba how 'bout you?

I want to go where the bananas grow.
Where the accepted form of dress is wearing no clothes.
I want the sun in my eyes and the sand in my toes.
Ahukuhuba how 'bout you?

There's a place that I am yearning for.
Where a warm and gentle breeze blows by a tropical shore.
Where I won't have to work and worry no more.
Ahukahuba how 'bout you?

© Reggie Miles

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Subject: SB: Ain't Dreams Wonderful Things? by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 07:59 PM

Ain't Dreams Wonderful Things? by The Shambles

Whilst riding with Harry Worth, on a Chair-O –Plane
We watch a Spitfire dogfight, with a cardboard Hurricane
No, it ain't like a journey, you don't go from A to B
You can't change the programme; you ain't watching no TV

Ain't dreams wonderful things? There's a joy in things you can't control
Ain't dreams wonderful things? Close your eyes and open up your soul

I go to a show, sit in the front row
No one seems to notice I'm not wearing any clothes
Though I know I'm only dreaming, I feel the anxiety
It's hard to tell, when you wake up, the fact from fantasy

Ain't dreams wonderful things? There's a joy in things you can't control
Ain't dreams wonderful things? Close your eyes and open up your soul

I'm on an island, salt free, the wind
I'm flying with eagles, on paper wings
Oh! It feels so easy, just how life was meant to be
It's so hard to come back, to what we call reality

Ain't dreams wonderful things? There's a joy in things you can't control
Ain't dreams wonderful things? Close your eyes and open up your soul

Roger Gall 1996

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Subject: SB: All Hail Flag Day by mousethief
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 08:00 PM

All Hail Flag Day by mousethief
(Sung to the tune of Oh, Susanna)

Well it's time again for Flag Day
And we'll wave our flags with pride
It's a red flag and a blue flag
Not as tall as it is wide

All hail flag day! It's just the day for me
I will hang my spangled banner on a flagpole or a tree

Well I like it when the stripes are sewn
And not just printed on
And the bright stars on the field of blue
Go nicely with my lawn

All hail flag day! It's just the day for me
I will hang my spangled banner on a flagpole or a tree

Now I know the symbolism, and all that it stands for
But it's mostly jingoistic stuff, preoccupied with war
So I'll sing a song that's PC for the flag that I love best
Which is not to say I think that it is better than the rest

All hail flag day! It's just the day for me
I will hang my spangled banner on a flagpole or a tree

Copyright ©2002 Alex Riggle. All Rights Reserved.

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Subject: SB: All Horses Go To Heaven by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 08:01 PM

All Horses Go To Heaven by Amergin
(Tune: Sounds Of Silence)

Amergin's Comments: This is a song I wrote for Kat after she posted the story about her daughter's horse dying. I feel it is her song more than mine.

Hello Martinee, my old friend
I've come to ride with you again
Across my face, the wind is blowing
Down you're neck, your mane is flowing
And the hooves are echoing across the fields
The grass softly yields
Upon your journey to Heaven

For many years I rode with you
As we frolicked in the dew
From first of the glowing sun
To the time when the day was done
When my heart cried out to leave you there
In the summer air
Now you're on the road to Heaven

I used to watch you dance and sing
At the dawning of the Spring
Your voice would ring out in the stables
We would feel the joy your songs enabled
The others would just run and obey
Now they bow and pray,
As you run in the pastures of Heaven

Then the cold winter came
The frost attacked your feeble frame
I was crying, I thought I'd lose you
You stood proud, but my fears still grew
My relief was great when you nuzzled my hand
But now you stand
Before the Gates of Heaven

Then an angel touched the land
A golden harp held in his hand
I felt the love he was strumming
I felt the joy he was humming
Then the angel sang, "I have come to welcome thee
Your soul is free
For all the horses go to Heaven."

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Subject: SB: Alba by Troll
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 08:03 PM

Ye Gauls and ye Germans. Ye poor conquered folk.
Bow down to your masters or your backs will be broke.
Caledonia will ne'er wear the harsh Roman yoke.
And the Romans will never rule Alba.

Chorus

Centurian, why have ye come here from Rome?
Through forested Britain from the channels white foam.
For the corbies will quarrel as they pick o'er your bones,
Where ye died in the highlands of Alba.

Chorus

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Subject: SB: An Bhean Chaointe by Áine
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 08:05 PM

An Bhean Chaointe by Áine
(Tune: An Bhean Udaí Thall)

Áine's Comments: This song is based on the famous legend of 'La Llorona'.

Ná gabh chun na habhann, a stór,
Ná gabh ansin riamh i d'aonar;
Beidh tú toghaite ag an Bhean Chaointe,
Ag an bhruach 'sí fliuch is fíanta.

Ag caí ag an grian dhubhach,
Le gealaigh dorcha 'bhí sí faighte;
Marbh neamhbheo na leanbháin,
San uisce glasfhuar báite.

Le leannán leapa í tréigthe,
Le fuath is eagla í lionta;
Le háill ard iad caite,
Gan slánaitheoir ina dtrocha.

Ó mhaidin go faoithin á luchtaíodh,
Lena tsianta cráite is maisc,
Ar bharr na sruthanna á rugadh,
A cuimhne go deo gan reast'.

Gealtach le ciontacht is pian,
Tuirseach den saol gan suan,
I ndallsíon léim sí san abhainn,
'S cailleadh í fán uisce dubh.

Lá is oíche taiscéalann sí páistí
'Sí ag fuaidreamh, fuar is caillte,
I ndorcha i' sorcha caoineann sí,
Anam damanta is riamh riaghta.

Ná gabh chun na habhann, a stór,
Ná gabh ansin riamh i d'aonar;
Beidh tú toghaite ag an Bhean Chaointe,
Ag an bhruach 'sí fliuch is fíanta.

Áine Cooke (1999)

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Subject: SB: An Emigrant's Daughter by Barry Taylor
From: Joe Offer
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 08:06 PM

An Emigrant's Daughter by Barry Taylor
(Tune: The Grenadier and the Lady) Click here for a midi of the tune

Barry's Comments: This ballad tells the true story of the voyage of my Irish ancestors from County Tyrone to Canada in 1842.

Oh please ne'er forget me though waves now lie o'er me
I was once young and pretty and my spirit ran free
But destiny tore me from country and loved ones
And from the new land I was never to see.
A poor emigrant's daughter too frightened to know
I was leaving forever the land of my soul
Amid struggle and fear my parents did pray
To place courage to leave o'er the longing to stay.

They spoke of a new land far away 'cross the sea
And of peace and good fortune for my brothers and me
So we parted from townland with much weeping and pain
'Kissed the loved ones and the friends we would ne'er see again.
The vessel was crowded with disquieted folk
The escape from past hardship sustaining their hope
But as the last glimpse of Ireland faded into the mist
Each one fought back tears and felt strangely alone.

The seas roared in anger, making desperate our plight
And a fever came o'er me that worsened next night
Then delirium possessed me and clouded my mind
And I, for a moment, saw that land left behind.
I could hear in the distance my dear mother's wailing
And the prayers of three brothers that I'd see no more
And I felt father's tears as he begged for forgiveness
For seeking a new life on the still distant shore.

Oh please ne'er forget me though waves now lie o'er me
I was once young and pretty and my spirit ran free
But destiny tore me from country and loved ones
And from the new land I was never to see.

Copyright 1998 Barry Taylor

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Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread
From: katlaughing
Date: 13 Jan 10 - 09:32 PM

Here it is, Joe, from a pdf in THIS THREAD (it says "download it.")

An Emigrant's Daughter (to the tune of The Grenadier & the Lady)
Lyrics by B. Taylor

Thanks, Kat & Wizzy. Lyrics posted above, with a link to the beautiful MIDI tune.
-Joe-

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Subject: SB: The Anna Grace by Willie-O
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:03 AM

The Anna Grace by Willie-O

Willie-O's Comments: I had Stan Rogers in mind when I wrote this in the mid 80's–its based on a photo I took of two fishing boats that were tied up together, one old and decrepit but with buckets of soul, the other one large, shiny and white. The story is pure fiction. I changed the name of the newer boat, since I sank it in the song– purely for dramatic effect, which I've always felt guilty about. Probably should have used another name for the "Anna Grace" too, but I like it too much. My daughter just told me this was her favorite lullaby when she was little. I think its my best work. It's not really about fishing, or boats, at all. It's about the inevitability of aging and the whims of fate. Bill Cameron (2000)

The Anna Grace was a sorry sight
Lying down in Portsmouth Harbour.
With her paint coming off and a list to port
Cause the garboard strake made water.

She was tied up next to the Alison May,
A big new glass-hulled dragger.
White topsides and a flying bridge
The company's proud to flag her.

Chorus:
But I'll take the Anna Grace,
Burn the old paint off and refasten her planks
Put a diesel in, and fit her out right
And take her out fishing again.

Cause I was ten years old in McKenna's yard
When I watched them shape her timbers
And I'd rather have her than some plastic tub
For I know the stuff that's in her.

So I bought her last fall for a thousand cash,
Towed her to the yard and hauled her
I spent every cent I could get from the bank
But come spring she went back in the water.

Chorus:
I took the Anna Grace
Burned the old paint off and refastened her planks,
Put a diesel in and fit her out right
And took her out fishing again.

We worked that year with the Alison May
To stay ahead of the fleet from Gloucester
We were forty miles out on George's Banks
When a full nor'easter caught her.

(Bridge) C-D-B-D-D (repeat)

The Anna made port by the grace of God
Though her pumps could barely float her,
But the Alison May lies far below
Like many an ocean daughter

The Anna doesn't work on the banks these days
She stays close by the harbour
For she's seen her fate on the breaking waves
And she's no more for deep water.

Final Chorus:
I took the Anna Grace
Burned the old paint off and refastened her planks,
Put a diesel in and fit her out right
But she'll never go fishing again.

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Subject: SB: Another Journey By Train by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:04 AM

Another Journey By Train by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: This song is posted with the news this week here of a right-wing organisation claiming responsibility for the casualties resulting from three 'nail' bomb attacks in London. The first one targeting the black community in Brixton, the second, the Asian community in the East End and the third, the Gay community, last night in Soho. The song is an account of a UK Channel 4 TV programme, from which the song gets it's title. It was the story of four young 'Neo-Nazis', from different European countries, taken on a train journey, meeting some Holocaust survivors and ending up at Auschwitz. You may have thought that this would have changed their views a little, but unfortunately this did not happen.

You enter the 'Gates of Hell', and you deny the fires,
Stand among the ghosts of thousands, who you brand as liars.
Why do you deny it, for you know the truth inside?
It's not a matter of opinion, how these people died.

Heads of stone,
Hearts of ice,
It's only the truth you sacrifice.

Five men on the corner, oh how it tears my heart,
Alone with his memories, the old man stands apart.
You refuse to hear him, for he doesn't count you say,
Builders of the 'New Tomorrow', does the past get in your way?

Hearts of ice,
Heads of stone.
So many people, so far from home.

One small lady and four big men, a brave thing to do?
A survivor of the 'real thing', what does she have to fear from you?
In the shadow of the tower, she shows you her tattoo,
And you have the nerve to tell her, you're now the persecuted few?

Heads of stone,
Hearts of ice,
It's only the truth you sacrifice.

Some of you don't understand, but some understand so well,
Frozen hearts will seize your granite minds, if you fall under their spell.
The world goes through it's changes, but some things stay the same,
When you know, you can't be wrong, you'll find someone else to blame.

Hearts of ice,
Heads of stone.
So many people, so far from home.

Heads of stone,
Hearts of ice,
It's only the truth you sacrifice.

Roger Gall 1995

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Subject: SB: Ar Bhóthar i gCósovó by Áine
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:06 AM

Ar Bhóthar i gCósovó by Áine

Áine's Comments: I wrote this song after hearing a story on the radio about a Kosovar woman whose infant died while the family was being expelled from their village and pushed to the country's borders during the war in Kosovo. The mother had to bury the baby in the snow on the roadside because she was not allowed to stop long enough to dig a grave.

Slán leat, slán agat a stór
Caithfidh mise le gabháil ar aghaidh
Tusa i do choladh go deo
Mise ‘mo dheacaireacht ‘óró

Slán leat, slán agat a chroí
Béarfaidh mise d’aghaidh mar bheo
Tusa i do leachtán chomh fuar
‘S mé ar mo chosán chomh corrach

Slán leat, slán agat m’anamsa
Bíodh ‘fhios agat go mbeidh do scéal
I mo lámh’ ‘s mo bhéal go dtí
An domhan ar fad bí ‘d’aithne

Slán leat, slán agat a leanbhán
Coladh sámh is suaimhneach a h-óbó
Ná bí buartha mar bheidh mé
Ar ais uair inteacht a h-óró

Áine Cooke (1998)

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Subject: SB: The Art Of Conversation by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:07 AM

The Art Of Conversation by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: When I lived in London, I got used to sitting next to and opposite people in trains and not speaking. On my last visit, I was amazed to find trains full of people talking, but still not to each other.

Now I walk the streets of the city
I've never felt so alone
Everybody's talking, yes
But only on the phone
Now everybody's talking it seems
And it's good to see
The art of conversation's not dead
But they ain't talking to me

I heard a friendly voice saying "hello"
I looked to find someone I know
I turned to meet the eyes of a stranger
Who carried on talking, as they watched me go
Don't know what the phones may do to your brain
Know what they do to mine and I'm trying to explain
Not sure if you're in any danger
But they're slowly driving me insane

Now I walk the streets of the city
I've never felt so alone
Everybody's talking, yes
But only on the phone
Now everybody's talking it seems
And it's good to see
The art of conversation's not dead
But they ain't talking to me

All of these things happen so fast
Just a passing craze or will it last?
Is this what the future is bringing?
Is talking face to face a thing of the past?
Are you worried like me or do you think it's fine
To hear all of this talking, all of the time
For even now, I can hear a mobile ringing
Please excuse me….. I think it's mine

Now I walk the streets of the city
I've never felt so alone
Everybody's talking, yes
But only on the phone
Now everybody's talking it seems
And it's so good to see
The art of conversation's not dead
But they ain't talking to me

© Roger Gall 2000.

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Subject: SB: As We Keep The Old Music Alive by McGrath of H
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:09 AM

McGrath's Comments: Here's a new one I put on a recent thread. I post it again, rather than just the link because the words have changed a wee bit now in the singing. I wrote this after a day out at Moreton Midsummer Village Day, a few miles from Harlow, where all kinds of singers and musicians and dancers from around the area gather for a weekend every summer.

As We Keep The Old Music Alive by McGrath of Harlow

Somehow it seems there are always a few
And we do what we can and we do what we do,
There's her and there's him and there's me and there's you,
Trying to keep the old music alive.
Was a time we were young but the years how have rolled
In this world where most everything's bought or it's sold
and we sing the old songs where the stories are told,
as we keep the old music alive.

But away with all your cares now,
the world will pass us by,
as we sing on down the years now,
and the music will not die.

There's a session tonight in the Bell or the Crown,
and one way or another the word gets around,
but there's no music licence, so keep the noise down,
while you keep the old music alive.
And we sing and we play and we have the odd drink,
till the barman says "Boys, it's getting late, don't you think?" -
but he pulls close the curtains, and he tips us a wink,
and we keep the old music alive.

But away with all your cares now,
the world will pass us by,
as we sing on down the years now,
and the music will not die.

And every now and again there's a fete or a fair,
with a whole congregation of friends gathered there,
and we all play our part and we all take our share,
as we keep the old music alive.
Then the street stops and stares as the dancers parade,
and the years slip away and we are not afraid
and the glory of England is bravely displayed
as we keep the old music alive.

But away with all your cares now,
the world will pass us by,
as we sing on down the years now,
and the music will not die.

And here's a parody verse I added:

There's a session tonight at The Crown or The Bell,
And the fiddler been drinking, you can tell by the smell,
And the man with the squeezebox is playing with himself,
As we keep the old music alive.
And the barman says "Boys, why can't you get a life?
You should can bugger off home to your family and wife,
If you hand me that bodhran, and pass me a knife,
I'll help keep the old music alive."

(And here is a link to it on my website, with a link to a RealAudio of me singing it, for the tune.)

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Subject: SB: At The Edge Of Town by Amergin
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:11 AM

At The Edge Of Town by Amergin

I've seen him standing there
Amidst the patter of the rain
The drops pelt the street
As mud crawls to the drain
He holds his cigarette
Beneath the dampened light
Sucking on the butt
Glowing the cherry bright
And so at the edge of town
I watch his tears flow slowly down

I've seen him standing there
Gazing up into the darkened sky
The rain pounding down
Smashing his hazel eyes
Loud moans of sorrow
Escape from his freezing lips
The damply lit cigarette
Slowly burns to his fingertips
And so at the edge of town
I watch his tears flow slowly down

I've seen him standing there
Dripping water soaking his skin
As cars rush the puddles
Clothing hanging from his skin
He cries aloud to the ancient gods
His stare grazing the treetops
As they gradually disappear
Beneath the murky raindrops
And so at the edge of town
I watch his tears flow slowly down

I've seen him standing there
His hair stringing down his face
Dripping down curling into his mouth
As he shivers in a frozen embrace
Hugging himself hands in the armpits
Trying to keep his fingers warm
As his tears slide down his cheeks
Mixing with the hammering storm
And so at the edge of town
I watch his tears flow slowly down

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Subject: SB: Autumn Gold by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:12 AM

Autumn Gold by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: This is a song (of hope) for all those Mudcatter's who may be feeling that they are 'over the hill'.

No summer songs, it's getting late,
The shortened days have sealed your fate.
The mists rise,
Cloud your eyes.
You've lost the prize, but wait.....

Autumn gold, the story's in the telling, not yet told.
Autumn gold, the wind blows chill, but not yet cold,
Autumn gold, not young, but not yet old.

A glass half empty, or half to fill?
You're over the worst, or you're over the hill.
The end on the line?
You've had your time.
Past your prime, but still.....

Autumn gold, the story's in the telling, not yet told.
Autumn gold, the wind blows chill, but not yet cold,
Autumn gold, not young, but not yet old.

No magic, no miracle cures,
The leaves fall, but the tree endures.
A few branches gone,
But the heartwood's strong.
Life goes on, 'cos' you're.....

Autumn gold, the story's in the telling, not yet told.
Autumn gold, the wind blows chill, but not yet cold,
Autumn gold, not young, but not yet old.

Roger Gall 1996

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Subject: SB: Back To Basics by The Shambles
From: Joe Offer
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 03:14 AM

Back To Basics by The Shambles

The Shambles' Comments: I wrote my thoughts about education in this song a little while ago as it stopped me 'ranting on' in company.

When we talk about education, we all have our views
It's a shame for our children, it's usually bad news
This National Curriculum, ain't it a good idea?
Until you look at the Public Schools, "we don't have to follow it here"

When they say "back to basics", we don't doubt it
We think that we all agree, until we talk about it
Your idea of basics, is not the same as mine
You may find that this simple idea, is hard to define

In so called 'primitive' cultures, they're taught what they need
To take their places in the world and join their society
Yes, our system teaches, well at least up to Primary
Then we are all channelled down, the road to G.C.S.E.

When mass education started, it was for liberty
The idea was, if you could read and write, then you too could be free
The system has been hi-jacked, to provide for industry
Which, if you look around us now, just doesn't seem to be

You have one level of attainment, and you devise a test
You only need to look at those passing and throw away the rest
Then you have too many passing and you have to work hard again
So bring in another level, "we'll use the few that remain"

Take a system that's built on failure, mix with our 'class system' as well
A recipe for disaster, education made in hell
"But it can't be that bad", do I hear you say?
"If I had to go through it, why then shouldn't they"?

We must be doing something wrong, have we money to burn?
It must be an indictment, if you have to force children to learn
I remember, when I was young, I took all that I could get
And now I know, I won't know it all, I've not stopped learning yet

Our children are in chains, chains called education
You know we really don't teach them at all, it's just qualification
So come on don't waste your time, come on and be a thinker
Don't swallow the bait that they drop, don't take it 'hook line and sinker'

We have stored a lot of knowledge, about our society
We should be able to reach our children, with our technology
Then maybe we could teach them the things that they need to know
Or are we just frightened of, the things they might overthrow?

I don't have all the answers, the children, they may have a few
Why not ask the poor teachers, they may have one or two
Don't ask the politicians, with their vested interests
Just send them all back to school and I'll devise a test

©Roger Gall.

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Subject: RE: Aine's Mudcat Songbook PermaThread
From: Amergin
Date: 14 Jan 10 - 04:50 PM

I know you don't want people to post in here, but I have a suggestion that some of the songs not being found may be located in the mudcat songbook submission threads.

Thanks for the idea, Amergin. I didn't really follow the compilation of the Songbook, so I'm a little in the dark. I did find that one song that was missing at archive.org one day, appeared the next. Go figure.
-Joe-

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Subject: SB: The Ballad of Karla Faye Tucker by Ivan
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:08 AM

The Ballad of Karla Faye Tucker by Ivan

Ivan's Comments: The final line originally went " But the lone-star state of Texas, it bears the greater shame" but after Governor Bush won the presidential nomination I figured that he should have greater prominence. This song is based on actual events (as they say for all those TV movies) but please remember it is a BALLAD not a history. The background information was sourced from various places including CNN and Karla Faye Tucker's own autobiography, with a fair degree of poetic licence. In particular, any remarks attributed to individuals are paraphrased from their reported comments - not verbatim quotes (libel lawyers please take note!) The tune I wrote it to is adapted from the traditional tune for "Frankie and Albert" (the original version of the "Frankie and Johnny" song) as recorded by Rory Block, but with bars nine and ten (- he was her man -) missed out. I.M.

Karla Faye was a bad girl,
an addict by the age of ten
She sold her body on the streets of Houston
to pay for heroin
To pay for heroin.

By twenty-one she was a call-girl
and a drug-dealer by trade
With her boyfriend Daniel Garrett
lived a life of sin and shame
A life of sin and shame.

Now her brother-in-law, name of Jerry Dean,
had been beating up his wife
Karla Faye planned to take revenge
by stealing his motorbike
His beloved motorbike.

After a three-day orgy
of drugs and drink and sex
Karla and Daniel and a friend named Jimmy
put the plan into effect
They put the plan into effect.

They went round to Jerry's building
and sneaked into the place
They thought that he was out of town
but took weapons just in case
Took weapons just in case.

But Jerry was at home that night
lying in his bed
Daniel took a hammer
and he struck him on the head
He struck him on the head.

Then Karla grabbed a pickax
as she heard him moan in pain
She swung the axe at Jerry's head
and smashed up Jerry's brain
She smashed poor Jerry's brain.

Now Deborah Thornton had hidden away
when she heard them coming in
She screamed out loud when she saw the deed,
sealed her fate right there and then
Sealed her fate right there and then.

Twenty strokes of the pickax
until the deed was done
When the police asked why she did it
she said it was just for fun
Said it was just for fun
.
Well Jimmy turned states evidence,
the law let him walk free
But the judge would not allow Karla Faye
any mitigation plea
No mitigation plea.

In prison she stole a bible
and took it to her cell
She read from it night after night
then on her knees she fell
Down on her knees she fell.

She said "Lord there is no reason
for you to listen to what I say
I'm the very worst of sinners",
but He listened anyway
He listened anyway.

She became a preacher
while still in prison bound
She helped so many others there
to turn their lives around
To turn their lives around.

The police and prison authorities
agreed onto a man:
"She helps so many to mend there ways
like no-one else here can
Like no-one else here can".

Even the brother of the girl she killed
spoke for her by and by
Said "I forgive this woman
and I pray she will not die
I pray she will not die".

And hell-fire preacher Pat Robertson,
and he's no liberal man
He said "This is a special case
I'll help her all I can.
I'll help her all I can".

The appeal court sat in a crowded room,
the judges side by side
Said: "The laws of the state of Texas,
they cannot be denied
They will not be denied".

They set the execution date,
said: "This is what must be
And the only thing that will save you now
is a governor's decree
The state governor's decree".

Governor Bush he stood his ground,
like Pilate he washed his hands
He said "I cannot judge this case,
I'll leave it in God's hands
I'll leave it in God's hands".

With Karla Faye strapped in the chair
a silence filled the hall
The very last word this woman said
was "Friends I love all"
"Friends I love you all".

The crowd gathered round the prison gate,
singing and drinking beer
When the word came down that Karla Faye died
you should have heard them cheer.
Lord, you should have heard them cheer.

Now Karla Faye was a bad girl,
with evil to her name
But George W. Bush and the state of Texas,
they bear the greater shame.
They bear the greater shame.

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Subject: SB: Ballad of A Would-Be Mudcatter by ScottyG
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:12 AM

Ballad of A Would-Be Mudcatter by ScottyG
(Tune: The Ballad of Jed Clampett)

I ain't a famous folkie or blues artist of renown,
And my name ain't on the marquee of the best venue in town.
I don't get paid for singin' songs; I sing 'em just for fun,
And I won't boast about the singin' contests that I've won.

Amateur, that is. Nothin' fancy. No big deal.

I really am a tuneful guy, so I should fit right in,
Yet I hardly get acknowledged here. Good thing I got thick skin!
I'm a half-way decent songster, folks, or so I'm often told.
So tell me, 'Catters, what's it take to get into your fold?

Short of crawlin', that is. Won't catch me doin' that.

Y'all are such a clever lot; your wit I much admire.
Your collective recognition, it's to that which I aspire.
But my posts must go unnoticed, 'cuz I hardly get replies,
No matter what discussion thread to which my post applies.

I ain't no flamer or a no-name guest. And I don't spam anybody. So what gives?

Now, no one likes to be ignored, egotist or not.
And it seems to me, that since I joined, I've all but been forgot.
Sure, I had a couple comebacks to the LYR REQ posts I sent
When I first surfed in to Mudcat but, that has been the extent.

Don't get me wrong. I ain't ungrateful. But a little feedback would be nice, ya know.

When I said I don't feel welcome, though the Mudcat makes me smile,
Joe Offer said to stick around, sometimes it takes awhile.
Then I see these posts from newcomers like Celtic Soul, for one,
And THEY get lots of welcomes; Makes me wonder what I'VE done.

So what am I, folks, chopped liver? I'm startin' to get a complex here.

I swear I just can't figure how to hook up with your clique.
It's like my posts just run into a wall of cyber-brick.
Nobody ever says, "hello", or "good to hear from you."
If I've offended anyone, I can't imagine who.

Never meant no harm. And I try not to stick my nose in where it don't belong.

Now, you might call this a hissy-fit, say I'm paranoid 'n such,
But ask me if I feel at home. My answer is, NOT MUCH!
What should I think about all this? Should I take it as some sign?
And, before you ask, I've got some cheese that suits my "wine" just fine.

Aged, that is. Vintage wine, too. Real good year.

Don't wanna be a nameless guest in anonymity,
I wanna be a member of the Mudcat family.
But if y'all think I don't belong, then just be straight with me.
If that's the case, this is the last you'll hear from ScottyG.

Y'all post back now, ya hear?

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Subject: SB: Ballade of Moderate Compassion by McGrath
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:13 AM

Ballade of Moderate Compassion by McGrath of Harlow

McGrath's Comments: Ballades are a very satisfying way of letting off steam sometimes - they focus the anger and direct it in a controlled way. More like a knife than a club.&bnsp; Here's one I did a few years ago about some of the attitudes some fellow social workers used to reveal at times - and a particularly phrase that always used to enrage me. (Especially in relation to anything to do with services for people with disabilities.):

Poor Mrs Brown is sick and tired and old,
And Mr Jones is muddled in his brain,
And Mary's child is crying in the cold,
and John is sleeping in the wind and rain;
they look for rescue, but they look in vain.
No lifebelt comes, instead these words are hurled:
"Your case is hard, but no good to complain -
we are not living in A Perfect World."

You longed for sea and sands of shining gold,
you booked your holiday in Sunny Spain -
you should have gone by train, but you were told
"It's quicker and more pleasant on the plane".
A slight diversion took you to Bahrein,
with blackened sands, where stinking oil slicks swirled,
you watch the seagulls down, and you explain
"We are not living in A Perfect World."

The sky grows dark, the world is bought and sold.
Christ on his cross dies for his own again;
the shepherd falls, the wolf is in the fold,
and all around are cries of grief and pain.
You measure out your pity grain by grain,
your neat umbrella is so tightly furled.
In face of agony, your tired refrain -
"We are not living in A Perfect World."

Prince of a thousand forms that measure pain,
your comfortable lips in judgement curled,
God knows you'd not be here, that much is plain
If we were living in A Perfect World.

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Subject: SB: Before We Knew His Name by Dharmabum
From: Joe Offer
Date: 15 Jan 10 - 05:14 AM

Before We Knew His Name by Dharmabum

Before we knew his name,
He was just another kid,
A boy we never heard of,
Somewhere else is where he lived,

He could have come from anywhere,
Been in any other place,
We would have never known,
His name or seen his face,

But politicians saw the chance,
To gain the upper hand,
They'd tell this young boy's story,
And spread it cross the land,

They told us of his journey,
To the land of liberty,
Now he's without a father,
And his mother's lost at sea,

Before we knew his name,
He was like any other kid,
He was more concerned with playing,
Than where he had to live,

I wonder if we asked him,
I wonder what he'd say,
But a kid can't make decisions,
About where he wants to stay,

And what about the kids,
Whose names we do not know,
Falling through the cracks,
Of a system that's too slow,

And when this story's over,
And the T.V. crews are gone,
They'll fly away like vultures,
And forget young Elian.

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