2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics - This Is Us

16 Jun 11 - 03:49 AM (#3171304)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

STONE Song List
1 - SianH - Tyburn Sisters
2 - Acorn4 - Daddy, Don't Become A Morris Dancer
3 - Linda Kelly and Pistachio - Northern Tide
4 - George Papavgeris - Circles In The Air
5 - John MacKenzie - Halcyon Days
6 - David Coffin - Song for Barry Finn
7 - skarpi - Móðir Mín í kví kví
8 - Charley Noble - Mobile Bay
9 - Noreen - Bheir mi ó
10 - Good Soldier Schweik - Burlington Fair
11 - Animaterra - Mr Fezziwig's Ball/Dancing Bear
12 - nutty - The Dragon Lies Dead
13 - Seamus Kennedy - My Father Was A Miner
14 - Animaterra - Wade In The Water
15 - olddude - Flowers On The Moon
16 - SussexCarole - Mary Baker
17 - Will Fly - The Warksburn Waltz
18 - Waddon Pete - Chickens In The Garden
19 - Marilynio - Leaving High Prairie
20 - Bobert - Buttermilk Blues
21 - Bounty Hound - Bonny Ship the Diamond


Many thanks to SussexCarole for her work in compiling this information.

All lyrics are the property of their authors. Used by permission. Unauthorized usage is prohibited.

Lyrics for STONE CD

1. Tyburn Sisters - Rattlebag/Sian H

Tune: Sörgsen Tön (traditional Swedish) Words by Andy McDuffie ©

Rattlebag: Faith Brooker, Siân Hayward (SianH), Lynne Heffernan, Jacqui Fitzgerald & Meg Foster

A retelling of the supernatural murder ballad ‘Two Sisters,’ set to a Swedish tune and presented as part of London’s bloody history.
Many miscreants danced the Tyburn Jig beside that infamous stream, buried now but still flowing. The river doesn’t forget.

www.rattlebag.co.uk

Two young girls both young and fair of face walked by the rushing river
One girl, her heart the blackest stone, had grown to hate the other
And though she wore a smiling face, she’d fallen far from human grace
Her sister she did murder

And by the lonely Tothill Marsh the girl did breathe her last
Thrown from the twisting Tyburn edge into the stream so fast
The killer watched her sister drown, smiled as her body floated down
Beneath the rushing river

The river hid its guilty face beneath the dirt of ages
But hidden deep and far below the angry water rages
And on this murdered daughter’s bones there grew the city’s ancient stones
One death among so many

And others came to die in time upon the stones of Tyburn
Hung from the twisted gallows tree to face a justice stern
The blood that flowed into the ground was now the blood of London Town
And of that hidden river

Death, plague and dreadful poverty are suffered by the living
Still for the restless angry dead there will be no forgiving
The seasons pass and bring a fool to build a house at Old King’s School
Above the secret river

He dug the soil in that fell place where he had made his home
And as he worked he found himself holding the whitest bone
He took his blade to carve a horn and from his work a flute was born
To sing the song of Tyburn
And from that time, until this day, the only song the flute would play
Was of the hidden Tyburn.

2. Daddy, Don't Become A Morris Dancer - Acorn4

Written by Dave Taylor ©

Dave Taylor (Acorn4): Guitar, keyboards & voice, Terry Gimson: accordion, Fred Semple: mandolin, Eleanor Wesley: harmony vocals

Why else would they do it, except to get revenge on their teenage offspring?
It is from the CD Gobbindownmimobile.

www.acorn4.demon.co.uk

A lump came into my throat as I climbed up those stairs
And I went to kiss my little girl goodnight,
But when I looked into those big brown eyes
I saw there were tears where she'd been crying,
And I didn't know the reason why.

I said, "What's the matter, Chardonnay, why have you been crying?
Has someone upset you? Has your puppy died?"
"No, Daddy”, she said, "I've just had a really bad dream
And you were in my dream and everything seemed so real".

"Tell me all about it", I said. "After all, it was only a dream."

"Daddy," she said to me, "I'm nine years old now and I'm not going to be your little girl for very much longer.
Why, in five years time I'll be a totally revolting obnoxious teenage pain in the backside, and you-
well, you'll be going through one of those difficult phases in your life and…
well, Daddy, I want you make me just one promise before that happens. Will you promise, Daddy?"

"Well, sweetheart, you know I'll do anything to make you happy, so what is this promise you want me to make?"
And I couldn't stop those tears welling up inside when I heard my little girl say these words to me:

Daddy, don't become a Morris Dancer,
Don't show me up in front of all my friends.
Oh, the embarrassment, the grief,
To see you waving those handkerchiefs.
Daddy, please keep away from those Morris men.

Daddy, you can do anything you want to,
Take up fishing, snooker, jogging or Tai Chi,
Join the Ford Capri owner's club, brass band,
Liberal Democrats or the Gilbert and Sullivan Society,
You can even help to re-enact the Battle of Naseby,

Or maybe if you like, buy a powerful motorbike
And make believe that you're just turned eighteen,
But don't go getting your kicks clonking with those sticks.
That would be so desperately sad, you see.

Daddy, don't become a Morris Dancer,
Don't show me up in front of all my friends.
Oh, the embarrassment, the grief
To see you waving those handkerchiefs.
Daddy, keep away from those Morris men.

Yes, those teenage years going to be are difficult times,
Where one has to be concerned about one's image and everything's got to be totally wicked and cool n'stuff 'n y'know, whatever!
And though I may be a smartarse knowall,
Don't make me cringe, don't make me feel a fool
And want the ground to swallow me up whole,
Though I realise the role of a parent is at all times to cause the maximum possible embarrassment,
Even that stupid woolly hat's OK by me,
But don't go getting an inkling when you hear those bells a-tinkling,
And put a tankard on your belt and sing "all around my beer belly" and-

Daddy, don't become a Morris Dancer,
Don't show me up in front of all my friends.
Oh, the embarrassment, the grief
To see you waving those handkerchiefs.
Daddy, please don't join those Morris men.
Don't listen to that cry
Of that lonesome melodeon in the sky.
Daddy, please don’t join the Morris Men.
Cotswold or Border are totally out of order
Daddy, won't you do this one thing for me?

Goodnight, Daddy.

3. Northern Tide - Hissyfit

Written by Linda Kelly ©

Hissyfit: Linda Kelly, Hazel Richings (Pistachio): Voices

The smallest phrase can inspire an idea to grow into something. A fisherman said once "The sea will never leave me".
The idea of the sea being a mistress which no woman could ever compete against evolved from that.

www.hissyfitsfit.co.uk

Out to sea, on a northern tide
On a northern tide, I'm bound away,
To the fishing grounds, and the ocean wide
And more besides, to earn my pay.

But I'll not let the ocean come between us,
There's part of me that never leaves the shore
And though I haven’t said the words, my own one
I couldn't love you more.

Far away, from my second home,
From the salt and foam, of a foreign sea.
Lashed by the winds of a raging gale,
Sleet and hail are home to me.

You asked me, “Is it lonely on the ocean?”
You asked me, “If I miss you?” but you know
I missed you, but the sea will never leave me
And I can't let her go.

Heave to lads, and haul your nets
And fill the decks, with a ton of cod!
Barrels full of liver oil, fisherman's spoil
Pays the rent - Thank God!

Our holds are full and we are heading homeward
To the Humber's muddy waters we'll return
We'll leave the icy ocean far behind us
And pleasure, in the money, we have earned

Sailing home, on an evening tide
On an evening tide, we're getting near
From the fishing grounds, and the ocean wide,
And more besides, to you, my dear.

4. Circles In The Air - George Papavgeris

Written by George Papavgeris © 2003

George Papavgeris (George Papavgeris): Guitar & voice, Miranda Sykes: bass & vocals, Saskia Tomkins: fiddle & vocals, Moira Craig and Cloudstreet: vocals.

Memories of a child's first visit to a fun fair. A mix of personal childhood memories and those of taking my son there.
If only we could retain that ability to be amazed by the world also in later age!

www.folk4all.net

I can't have been older than five or six
My head no higher than my father's hips
One day he said "you come to town with me
I have a surprise for you, just wait and see"
It took an hour, though it felt like seven
I couldn't wait until we made it there
But when we did I knew that this was heaven
That was the first time that I'd seen a fair

I hardly could contain my pride and thrill
As Father drove the dodgem with such skill
We rode the Octopus both low and high
And on the Wheel I though we'd reach the sky
And when we took a ride on the Big Dipper
He held me tightly so I wouldn't scare
But I was flying with my eyes a-glitter
As we made giant circles in the air

Popcorn and lollies till my cheeks were puffed
And in the House of Mirrors how we laughed
Then Father threw the giant hoops with flair
And won for me a brand new teddy bear
And I am sure I would have stayed for ever
If only Father would have left me there
That day I felt much lighter than a feather
My feet were dancing circles in the air

The years have passed since that magic day
The Waltzer of life has often made me pay
The Wheel of Fortune gave me lots of fun
But just as often made my tears to run
And as I closer get to my December
And for life's pleasures I no longer care
My first time at the fair I still remember
And my heart dances circles in the air

CHORUS
And if life then was happier, I don't know
But if I only could, back again I'd go
To when father took me to the fair
And dance a few more circles in the air

5. Halcyon Days - John MacKenzie

Written by John MacKenzie ©

John MacKenzie: Guitar

‘Halcyon Days’ started out as an attempt to put a tune to ‘The Lobster Quadrille’ by Lewis Carroll, but ended up as an instrumental.
The title is to do with a personal liking for Kingfishers. It's all Greek to me.

www.myspace.com/johngmackenzie

6. Song For Barry Finn - David Coffin

Lyrics Ernie Johnston, Tune David Coffin ©

David Coffin: Vocals

Ernie Johnson wrote the text and this is the melody that came to me as I read it. From first read to finished recording was roughly 20 minutes.
It's rough around the edges but so was Barry. Cheers Barry!

www.davidcoffin.com

Well the sails are raised and the anchor stowed
No more shall we tarry
And it's roll and go on the West Sea Road
Sing it again for Mr Finn and haul away for Barry!

May our loved ones back in port be blessed
No more shall we tarry
And our course be set for the West Nor'west
Sing it again for Mr Finn and haul away for Barry!

Well our ship is old but she's sound and dry
No more shall we tarry
So its raise the flag and watch her fly
Sing it again for Mr Finn and haul away for Barry!

We're bound for harbor on the Eastern Shore
No more shall we tarry
A thousand miles away or more
Sing it again for Mr Finn and haul away for Barry!

If never we return again
No more shall we tarry
We'll leave a song on the Western Wind
Sing it again for Mr Finn and haul away for Barry!

7. Móðir mín í kví kví (Íslenkt þjóðlag) (trad.) - Rosin Okkar (translated ‘Our Rose’)

Skarphéðinn Haraldsson (skarpi) Guitar, bodhran, vocals, Rósa Johannesdottir - Fiddle, hardangersfiddle, vocal
Ari Agnarsson - accordian, Kristján Kristjánsson - guitar, Sólveig Thorodsen - Irish harp and vocal

An Icelandic song about a mother who wants to go to a dance but can’t because she has no suitable clothes.
Her child offers her own clothes so her mother can go. A sad but sweet little song.

www.myspace.com/rosinokkar

Móðir mín í kví kví
Kvíddu ekki því því
Ég skal ljá þér duluna mína
Duluna mina að dansa í
Ég skal ljá duluna mína, duluna mína að dansa í

8. Mobile Bay - Charley Noble

Original poem C. Fox Smith, adapted & arranged © Charlie Ipcar

Charlie Ipcar (Charley Noble) Banjo, voice

Original poem taken from Punch Magazine, Volume 186, February 28, 1934, p. 248.
I've added the chorus from the traditional shanty and make a few other wording changes.

www.charlieipcar.com

Chorus:
"Roll the cotton down, bullies,
Roll the cot-ton down!"
I thought I heard the Old Man say,
"Roll the cot-ton down!"

There's a song I hear resounding,
As a song will some-times do;
It takes me away to my younger days
And the men and the ships I knew –
To the men I knew in a time long gone
And a ship of some re-nown,
When I sailed away to Mobile Bay
Where they roll the cot-ton down! (CHO)

I mind the feel of the noonday sun
And the warm wet dockside smells –
Rum and spice, and the stevedores,
And the Cajun demoiselles,
The shuffle and beat of the naked feet
On the levees all around –
How I longed to stay in Mobile Bay
Where they roll the cotton down. (CHO)

It takes me away from the dingy streets
Of this cold grey Northern town;
I can hear the yarns my shipmates spun
The rum old songs we sung,
The way of a ship at a twelve-knot clip
When we sailed the wide world round,
And I mind that day in Mobile Bay
When they rolled the cotton down. (CHO)

It's the width of a world from here to there,
It's the half of my life since then,
And it's ill to tread, so I've heard said,
A trail where you've lost a friend;
So I may sail east or I may sail west,
Far from this northern town,
But I'll not stray to Mobile Bay
Where they roll the cotton down. (CHO)

9. Bheir Mí Ó - Noreen

Noreen Keene (Noreen): Voice

Bheir Mi O, also known as the Eriskay love lilt, is a song I don't remember learning; I have always known it.
A lovely gentle song for a late evening, which inspires wonderful harmonies and sometimes tears.

Bheir mí ó, horo van ó
Bheir mí ó, horo van ee
Bheir mí ó, o hooro ho
Sad am I, without thee

In the morning, when I go
To the white and shining sea
By love's light, my foot finds
The old pathway to thee

Bheir mí ó, horo van ó
Bheir mí ó, horo van ee
Bheir mí ó, o hooro ho
Sad am I, without thee

10. Burlington Fair – Dick Miles (trad., arr. Dick Miles)

Dick Miles (Good Soldier Schweik) Guitar, vocal

Broadside versions of this song call it Birmingham fair; Birmingham with its industrial connotations might seem
an improbable originator of this charming song of rural seduction. I prefer the imagery of Burlington.
This version was collected in Suffolk by Peter Kennedy.

www.dickmiles.com

As I was a-going to Burlington Fair
With fine coat and britches I’d ordered to wear
To meet all the lasses so buxom and gay
For I swore I was willing to ramble-away

Oh, the very first step that I took at the fair
Oh, I saw pretty Nancy a combing her hair
I tipped her the wink and she roll'd a dark eye
Says I to myself, "I'll be there by and by"

Oh, the very first step that I took in the dark
Oh, I asked pretty Nancy to be my sweetheart
She smiled in my face and this she did say
"Are you the young man they call “Ramble-away?”

I said, "Pretty Nancy, don't smile in my face
For I do not intend to stay long in this place"
She packed up her bags, farewell Burlingshire
She says “I will ramble, the devil knows where”

“My father and mother have just gone along
And when they come back, I will sing them this song
The song it will tell how their daughter's astray-o
She’s gone on her travels with Ramble-away”

Now the winter is gone and the autumn has come
And fine pretty Nancy has borne a fine son
She'll huddle him and cuddle him, these words she will say
”Grow up like your father and ramble-away”

Come all you young maidens and listen to me
You'd better take care when you go on the spree
And likewise young fellows, you'd better take care
Or else you'll get brambled at Burlington Fair

11. Mr Fezziwig’s Ball/Dancing Bear - Animaterra
(© Hunt Smith/ © Bob MacQuillen)

Allison Aldrich (AllisonA(Animaterra)): Keyboard, Hunt Smith: Fiddle

Hunt wrote this tune for a production of Dickens' "A Christmas Carol." We've always loved Mr. Fezziwig, Scrooge's first boss,
because he loved to party and he loved to dance. "Dancing Bear" is by Bob MacQuillen, one of the most-loved composers and pianists in the contra dance world.

www.huntandallison.net

12. The Dragon Lies Dead - nutty

Written by Hazel Bolton ©

Hazel Bolton (nutty) Voice

Between 1957 & 67, I lived in South Bank, in the heart of industrial Teesside, surrounded by
iron and steel works. The activities of these seemingly gigantic mythical beasts fascinated me – I’m so sad to see it all die.

There was a dragon at the end of our street
It belched black smoke and spat out red fire
And every day the men in our street
Went to worship and serve its desire

(Chorus) But now all is silent
I see nothing move
Save a heron that flies overhead
For not by Saint George
But by politicians
This dragon’s been slain and lies dead
Cold and dead
This dragon is slain and lies dead

Now when this dragon was a lean hungry baby
They fed it iron ore from the hills
So as it grew and grew the fields all around
Became covered in foundries and mills

Every day, the men in our street
Went to work in the heat and the grime
Some never came back from feeding the beast
While others grew old before their time

Every hour of the day we’d hear clanking and banging
For fierce was the noise that it made
And the sulphurous smells and the black cinder grits
Were around us wherever we played

Now the men in our street, they stand around watching
And waiting to see if work comes
With the death of the dragon, they’re fearful for families
And frightened they’ll all lose their homes

There was a dragon at the end of our street
It belched black smoke and spat out red fire

13. My Father Was a Miner - Seamus Kennedy

Written by Seamus Kennedy ©

Seamus Kennedy: Guitar and voice, Brad Hayford: bass, keyboards, guitar, banjo
and pennywhistle, Bob Spates: fiddle, Billy McComiskey: accordion.

My friend Bruce Cunningham of Scranton, PA, told me several stories about his dad Jim who was a coal-miner
in the Lackawanna Valley mines, and challenged me to write a song about him. This is it.

From the CD On the Rocks

www.seamus-kennedy.com

My father was a miner as his father was before him
Hacking out the anthracite from the Pennsylvania clay
He left school at fifteen, was down the mines at sixteen
At nineteen he was married and soon I was on the way

At seven every morning, my mother made him breakfast
Then he'd walk down to the pithead with all the other men
He'd swing his old lunch bucket as she watched him from the window
Wondering if this was the day that she would not see him again

His name is Jim Cunningham from Lackawanna County
Like all his childhood buddies, he toiled at digging coal
Risking black-lung and cave-ins and flying red hot splinters
And bleeding ruptured eardrums after “Fire in the hole”

While crawling in a shaft one day to hew a brand new coalface
He didn't hear the timbers creak or the rumble overhead
But a hand reached in and grabbed him and pulled him from the tunnel
Just another second later, my dad would have been dead

Well he finished off his shift, there was no time off for dying
That night he told my mother and she began to keen and moan
She threw his supper on the table, her eyes were red with cryin'
Saying, “If you go down tomorrow, I won't be here when you come home”

So now he drives a truck for a bakery here in Scranton
And once I week I help him with deliveries round the town
He lived to see us growing and it keeps my mother happy
But sometimes I think for one more day he’d like to go back down

One morning having coffee, in a nearby Dunkin' Donuts
An older man came in and sat down not too far away
My father brought me over and said shake hands with Roy Hinkley
If it had not been for him son, I would not be here today

I whispered “Thank you Mister Hinkley” as I took his hand and shook it
My tears fell hot and heavy so I could scarcely see
He put a big hand on my shoulder and pulled me close beside him
Saying “Your dad and I are miners, he'd have done the same for me”

My father was a miner as his father was before him
Hacking out the anthracite from the Pennsylvania clay

14. Wade In the Water - Animaterra Women's Chorus

A trraditional African American spiritual arranged by Allison Aldrich (AllisonA(Animaterra)) and sung by Animaterra Women's Chorus.
This song is connected to the Underground Railroad, a secret network that helped those in slavery escape to the North.
Songs were used to teach needed skills. To wade in the water protected fugitives from being scented by pursuing hounds.

www.animaterrasings.org

Wade in the water. Wade in the water, children.
Wade in the water. God's gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water. Wade in the water, children.
Wade in the water. God's gonna trouble the water.

Who are those children dressed in red? God's gonna trouble the water.
Must be the children that Moses led. God's gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water. Wade in the water, children.
Wade in the water. God's gonna trouble the water.

Who are those children dressed in white? God's gonna trouble the water.
Must be the people getting ready to fight. God's gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water. Wade in the water, children.
Wade in the water. God's gonna trouble the water.

Who are those children dressed in blue? God's gonna trouble the water.
Must be the people gonna see this through. God's gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water. Wade in the water, children.
Wade in the water. God's gonna trouble the water.
Wade in the water. Wade in the water, children.
Wade in the water. God's gonna trouble the water.

15. Flowers On The Moon - Dan O'Connell

Written by Dan O'Connell ©

Dan O’Connell (olddude): Guitar, voice

Flowers on the moon I wrote for one particular family's journey with an autistic child.

www.soundclick.com/danoconnell

Late in the evening in the silence of his room,
another day of heartbreak in this place
There inside his troubled mind a million voices rage,
and the anger and the sadness that’s written on his mother's face

Can't you see, there’s a million children like him
Can't you see, they’re locked inside despair
Don't you hear, there's a million mothers crying
Living in the days that passed, all their hopes are fading fast
Like flowers growing on the moon

Hollow words repeating, and the violence fills the air,
and the medicines not working and the money’s just not there
And the people sometimes cannot see, he's trying everyday
But in his world he walks alone, for help his family prays

Can't you see, there’s a million children like him
Can't you see, they’re locked inside a place
Don't you hear, there's a million families crying
Living in the days that past, all their hopes are fading fast
Like flowers growing on the moon

Late in the evening in the silence of his room
another day of heartbreak in this place
His father comes to tuck him in to see him safe asleep,
with joy and with sorrow in the lines upon his face

Can't you see, there’s a million children like him
Can't you see, they’re locked inside a place
Don't you hear, there's a million fathers crying
Living in the days that past, all their hopes are fading fast
Like flowers growing on the moon

16. Mary Baker - Carole Etherton

Written by Carole Etherton ©

Carole Etherton (SussexCarole): Voice, Andrew McKay (Crane Driver), Joy Toole, Bridget Hayne, Chris Richardson: Harmony vocals

The importance of advertising and customer satisfaction! Portsmouth, New Hampshire, across the Piscataqua River from the US Naval base.
Mary Baker’s establishment in Water Street operated 1897 - 1912, when the district was cleaned up and renamed Marcy Street.

From the CD Characters

www.cranedrivinmusic.com

My name's Mary Baker, a Madam is m' trade
I take care of the sailors, see the money paid
Pretty girls, I hire them all the while
With dainty little figures and sparkling smile

(Chorus) Portsmouth town, Portsmouth town
No girls are ever better than in Portsmouth town

Come on girls the fleet's in town
Put on your silky stockings and lacy gown
Fancy shoes, fine combed hair
Then we'll go parading in the carriage and pair

In my high red wig and with jewels in m' teeth
I'm known to all the sailors here in Water Street
Velvet choker, fur and fancy hat
Mary Baker is the best, no doubt about that

Across the Piscataqua they come for girls to buy
With money in their pockets, a twinkle in their eye
At Gloucester House we treat 'em mighty fine
Strip 'em of their money send 'em back to toe the line

So farewell sailors, back to sea you go
No money in your pocket, powder running low
In Portsmouth town you'll be happy you did meet
Mary Baker and her girls from Water Street

17. Warksburn Waltz (trad.) - Will Fly

Will Fly: Mandolin, tenor (4-string) guitar and 6-string guitar

The Warksburn Waltz is a traditional tune from Northumberland which I found in Volume 2 of the Northumberland Piper's Tune Book in the Morpeth Bagpipe Museum.
I multi-tracked this recording on mandolin, tenor (4-string) guitar and 6-string guitar.

www.mjra.net/WillFly

18. Chickens In The Garden (Trad.) - Waddon Pete

From a Glasgow broadsheet, arr. Peter Twitchett

Peter Twitchett (Waddon Pete): Guitar, voice, Sarah O'Neill: Fiddle

There are many ways of leaving a will, but I guess this way avoids unnecessary solicitor’s fees!

www.twitchett.me.uk/newme.htm

I once did know a farmer a gentle loving soul
Who used to till his native fields down by his country home
He had one only daughter to woo her I did try
But when I asked him for her hand this was his reply

(Chorus) Treat my daughter kindly and say you’ll do no harm
And when I die I’ll leave to you my little house and farm
My horse, my cow, my sheep, my plough
My oxen and my barn
And all the little chickens in the garden

Now I love this young girl dearly and I know that she loves me
I go around to visit her each evening after tea
I watch her milk the old brown cow to see it does no harm
And many’s the cup of milk I drink before I leave the farm

Now the old man holds on both her hands with gentle loving care
And I love the twinkle in his eyes as he do declare
”She is my only daughter Jack, she is my joy and pride
If you don’t treat her kindly Jack, I’ll come back and tan your hide”

Now the old man he’s relented and we shall married be
We’ll have a cottage of our own and live in harmony
I’ll try and keep the promise that the old man made of me
And treat his daughter just as well as his daughter do treat me

19. Leaving High Prairie - Marilyn O’Malley

Written by Marilyn O'Malley ©

Marilyn O’Malley (Marilynio): Guitar, voice, Susan Sinclair: Fiddle, Rick Hulett: Bass

I knew I'd miss the beauty of my Washington home east of Mt. Adams, but it was time to leave. In this song I invoked the
High Prairie wind to take me away. I landed in Sebastopol, California.

http://marilynomusic.com

Dance with me darlin'
Come take my hand
Dance with me darlin'
while we still can
’Cause life slips away and we run out of time
So to these hills of High Prairie I bid my good-bye

And when I am gone
the Red-tails will still soar
through the sapphire brilliance
as they did before
and the curlew will still keen
with her mournful cry
But to these hills of High Prairie I bid my good-bye

The quail with his headdress
the deer swift and light
Eagle and falcon
amazing in flight
Wild turkey will hurry across Centerville Road
But I'm leaving High Prairie, for where I don't know

The wind blows so hard here it howls through the night
Oh let that wind carry me to where I belong
High Prairie wind carry me
High Prairie wind carry me
High Prairie wind carry me

I came here alone
and alone I will go
That's not how I planned it
But still it is so
Mt Adams will still glisten with bright snow when I'm gone
I'm leaving High Prairie - time to move on

Dance with me darlin'
Come take my hand
Life is too short
to live alone on the land
Part of my heart will remain here it's true
But I'm leaving High Prairie in search of you

The wind blows so hard here it howls through the night
Oh let that wind carry me to where I belong
High Prairie wind carry me
High Prairie wind carry me
High Prairie wind carry me

20. Buttermilk Blues - Sidewalk Bob

Written by Sidewalk Bob ©

Sidewalk Bob (Bobert): Guitar, voice

I wrote this song for a blues friend, Waymon "Buttermilk" Meeks to use in a blues competition... He said it was "too suggestive"...
I said, "Hey, it's the friggin' blues"... Oh well... His loss, my gain...

It's 4 o-clock in the morning
and I'm driving my milk wagon into town
Well, they call me "Buttermilk"
'cause I spread my buttermilk around

Sweet cream, milk and butter
Yeah, that be my game
But to sweet Bernice
’Lover Boy’ be my name

Well, last Tuesday, Tuesday morning
Her ol' man come home
Well, my mama didn't raise no fools
I'm gonna have to leave that little girl alone

Well, she begged and she begged
Begged ol' Buttermilk to come back around
But her ol' man catch me sniffin' 'round his woman
He gonna put ol' Buttermilk in the cold, cold ground

Now she's got them Buttermilk blues
but I gotta move along
(Well, what's ya' gonna do, Buttermilk? What's ya' gonna do...)
I'm going to take some buttermilk to her sister
Oh, just a little past dawn

21. Bonny Ship The Diamond (trad.) - The Bounty Hounds

The Bounty Hounds: John Bosley (Bounty Hound) - vocals, bouzouki, Chris Hart - electric guitar,
Jo Clegg - fiddle, Kevin Wickham - bass, backing vocals, Shaun Finch - drums

A five piece folk/rock band from Suffolk performing their version of the well-known song about a whaling ship lost in the ice.
Track taken from their recent CD Tales of the Land and Songs of the Sea.

www.bountyhounds.co.uk

The Diamond is a ship, my lads, for the Davis Strait she's bound,
And the quay it is all garnished with bonny lasses 'round;
Captain Thompson gives the order to sail the salt seas wide,
Where the sun it never sets, my lads, no darkness dims the sky.

(Chorus) And it's cheer up my lads, let your hearts never fail,
The bonny ship, the Diamond, goes a-fishing for the whale.

Along the quay at Peterhead, the lasses stand around
With their shawls all wrapped around them and the salt tears running down
Don't you weep, my bonny lass, though you be left behind,
For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice before we change our mind. (Chorus)

Here's a health to the Resolution, likewise the Eliza Swan,
Here's a health to the Battler of Montrose and the Diamond, ship of fame,
We wear the trouser of the white and the jackets of the blue,
When we return to Peterhead, we'll have sweethearts anew. (Chorus)

It'll be bright both day and night when the Greenland boys come home,
With a ship that's full of oil, my boys, and money to our name;
We'll make the cradles for to rock and the blankets for to tear,
And every lass in Peterhead sings "Hushabye, my dear". (Chorus)

---

16 Jun 11 - 03:50 AM (#3171305)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

SKY Song list
1 - Lonesome EJ - Rosalie
2 - VirginiaTam - Past Carin'
3 - Will Fly - The Waters of Tyne
4 - John MacKenzie - Gresford Disaster
5 - My guru always said - The Rain Is Falling
6 - michaelr - Dreams and High Hopes
7 - Lady Penelope/Liz the Squeak/Morticia/
Mrs Duck/Pixie of Doom - Bully in the Ally
8 - r.padgett - Edward
9 - pavane - Roxburgh Castle
10 - Cool Beans - 16 Monkeys
11 - Mary Humphreys and treewind - Proud Pedlar
12 - jeffp - I Miss You
13 - Bruce Murdoch - I Just Seem To Keep On Loving You
14 - ClaireBear - Telling The Bees
15 - severed-head - Limbo
16 - Mrs Pavane - Ar Lan y Mor
17 - Gibb Sahib - Walk Along, You Sally Brown
18 - Tootler - Playford Tunes
19 - BobKnight - Tramps and Hawkers
20 - Linda Kelly and Pistachio - Sweet Minerva
21 - The Doctor - Here's To The Last To Die
22 - katlaughing - That's Not My Colorado
23 - Morgan Phoenix - Mama's Song


Many thanks to Genie for her work in compiling this information.

All lyrics are the property of their authors. Used by permission. Unauthorized usage is prohibited.

Lyrics for SKY CD

1. Rosalie - Lonesome EJ

Written by Ernest Johnson © 2011

Ernie Johnson (Lonesome EJ): voice, 6-string & 12-string guitars

This song with photo slideshow, along with other songs written and/or performed
by Ernest Johnson, can be viewed at http://www.youtube.com/user/MacFeeley?feature=mhum

http://www.soundclick/erniejohnson

Sweet Rosalie of mine,
See how the love within her shines
through the miles between us dark and deep.
Like the stars I see her as she sleeps.

The watchfires dwindle in the camp.
The Captain writing by his lamp,
The sentry listens for any sound
across the darkened battleground.

Back there the whitetails roam the pines,
the hillsides blue with columbine.
The river tumbles cold and free,
those mountain summers hold to me.

The bugle calls us as we lay.
We'll cross the field at break of day
and dying holds no fear for me
except to lose you, Rosalie.

2. Past Carin' - VirginiaTam

Music: Phyl Lobyl © ca. 1968; Lyrics: Henry Lawson 1899

Tamara Linn Hiatt (VirginiaTam): voice

Lawson's poem describes the bleak life faced by women in the Australian bush.
Thanks to composer Phyl Lobyl for permission to record and to other singers for inspiring me to learn this piece.

Up and down the siding brown
The great black crows are flyin',
And down below the spur I know
Another 'milker's' dyin';
The crops have withered to the ground,
The tank's clay bed is glarin',
But from my heart no tear nor sound
For I have grown past carin'.

Through Death and Trouble, turn about
Through hopeless desolation,
Through flood and fever, fire and drought
And slavery and starvation;
Through childbirth, sickness, fear, and blight
And loneliness an' scarin',
Through bein' left alone at night
I've grown to be past carin'.

Our first child took in days like these
A cruel week in dyin'
All day upon her father's knees
Or on my poor breast lyin';
The tears we shed, the prayers we said
Were awful, wild – despairin'!
I've pulled three through and buried two
Since then – and I'm past carin'.

'Twas ten years first, then came the worst,
All for a dusty clearin'.
I thought, I thought my heart would burst
When first my man went shearin';
He's drovin' in the great Northwest,
I don't know how he's farin',
For I, the girl that loved him best,
Have grown to be past carin'.

My eyes are dry, I cannot cry,
I've got no heart for breakin',
But where it was in days gone by
A dull and empty achin'.
My last boy ran away from me;
I know my temper's wearin'
But now I only wish to be
Beyond all signs of carin'.

Past botherin' or carin',
Past feelin' and despairin',
And now I only wish to be
Beyond all signs of carin'.

3. The Waters Of Tyne - Will Fly

Traditional Northumberland tune

Will Fly: Appalachian dulcimer, guitar, acoustic bass guitar

www.mjra.net/WillFly
http://www.youtube.com/user/HenfieldWill

4. Gresford Disaster - John MacKenzie

Trad. Welsh - Arr. John MacKenzie

John MacKenzie: Guitar and voice

In one of Britain's worst mining accidents which occurred Sept. 22, 1934
at Gresford Colliery near Wrexham, in north-east Wales, 266 men died.
Only eleven bodies were ever recovered. The song was issued as a broadsheet soon after the disaster.
It has been recorded by The Hennessys, Ewan MacColl, Alex Campbell and the Albion Band amongst others.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gresford_disaster

http://www.myspace.com/johngmackenzie

You've heard of the Gresford Disaster
And the terrible price that was paid;
Three hundred and sixty two colliers were lost
And four men of the rescue brigade.

It occurred in the month of September;
At three in the morning that pit
Was racked by a violent explosion
In the Dennis where the gas lay so thick.

Now the gas in the Dennis deep section
Was packed there like snow in a drift
And many a man had to leave the coal-face
Before he had worked out his shift.

Now a fortnight before that explosion
To the shotfirer Tomlinson cried
"If you fire that last shot we'll be all blown to hell!"
And no one can say that he lied.

Now the fireman's reports they are missing
The records of forty-two days;
The colliery manager had them destroyed
To cover his criminal ways.

Oh, the Lord Mayor of London's collecting
To help out the children and wives;
The owners have sent some white lilies (Dear God!)
To pay for the poor colliers' lives.

Down there in the dark they are lying.
They died for nine shillings a day;
They have worked out their shift and now they must lie
In the darkness until Judgement day.

(Last verse omitted in this recording.)
Farewell our dear wives and children,
Farewell our old comrades as well.
Don't send your sons down the dark dreary pit:
They'll be damned like the sinners in hell.

5. The Rain is Falling - My guru always said

Written George Papavgeris © 2003

Hilary Ward (My guru always said): Voice, John Breeze (Breezy): Guitar

Last in George’s Trilogy of a young family striving to survive in the New World, and preceded by 'Expiree' and 'Emptyhanded'.
Their hard work and hope is finally rewarded by the rain they so desperately need to grow their crops.

This song was recorded live at the Windward Folk Club of St Albans in 2005, with the guitarist, Breezy, and the audience joining in on the chorus.
It is on a homemade CD, A Toe In The Water, which is not available commercially.

http://www.hilaryward.co.uk

Two years you tried working on this land,
Nothing you could do to make it greener.
Two years of fields baking in the sun,
Two years of harvest turning into dust.
The loan to pay our dream to sell you must,
Yet to succeed no one could have been keener.
There’s just enough grain left for one more try;
Our future now depends upon the sky.

(Chorus) Because the rain is falling, pitter-patter falling,
And it’s like we haven’t seen for years
And it keeps on falling, pitter-patter falling.
Let the rain now wash away your tears.

Who said hard work alone would be enough?
Who said that simple toil is the solution?
Where was the smooth when all we had was rough?
When sweat alone the children wouldn’t feed,
To see your face so red my heart would bleed,
But now it seems we’re given absolution.
For tools we only have two pairs of hands
But now we have been given one more chance. (Cho.)

First thing tomorrow together we will go
To town to plead the loan to be extended.
The ring you gave me I gladly will forgo
If that is what it takes to keep them sweet.
I’ll take in washing or even sweep the streets.
It’s worth it, for our nightmare now has ended.
The worst that fate could send us we survived
And in good time together we will thrive. (Cho.)

The broken plough to fix we can’t afford
So we will dig the fields with our own fingers,
And in the dirt, I the Lady, you the Lord,
Our kingdom we’ll establish with our sweat.
Though better times will come we won’t forget
The thirst and hunger in the soul that lingers
But now it’s time to Heaven to give thanks;
Let’s go out in the rain and have a dance. (Cho. x2)

6. Dreams and High Hopes - michaelr

Written by Michael Rofkar © 2009, published by Kudzu Tunes

Greenhouse (Michael Rofkar [michaelr]: Guitar and voice, Jon Berger: Melodeon, Chris Carney: Fiddle, mandolin,
Tony Blake: drums, Dan Reynolds: bass, Michael Capella: Dobro, Patricia Casey, Gary Palmatier, Jon Berger: Harmonies)

From the CD Dreams and High Hopes by Greenhouse (Jackalope Records)

www.celticfusion.org
www.youtube.com/greenhouseceltic

I was seven years old when my parents were buried,
Three years in a row the potato crop failed.
There were six of us kids, only five could make passage
And I stood on the dock as the coffin ships sailed.

I begged and I stole and I feed and I laboured,
It took fifteen years to save up the fare
And after eight weeks when we reached New York harbour
There wasn’t a statue to ease off my cares.

As I stepped off the boat I was met by recruiters,
“You can be an American if you sign up today.”
I was fitted with cap and blue coat and rifle,
With the Irish Brigades I was soon on my way.

(Chorus) Everything flows, yes, and everything changes,
Nothing’s turned out as I thought it would then.
Such dreams and high hopes when I came to the New World
Ah, but everything new just grows old again,
Everything new, it just grows old again.

Bull Run and Bloody Lane, Sharpsburg and Fredericksburg
I’ll never speak of the things that I’ve seen.
One day in the woods I met a grey-coated rebel
I made ready to fire when he looked up at me.

A voice that I knew said “Johnny, don’t shoot me!”
I lowered my rifle and peered through the rain.
My childhood best friend from the hedge school in Mayo
I never dreamed I’d see that face again.

I said “Kieran, my god, I nearly killed you!
This war is a madness, this fight’s not our fight.”
He buried his grey coat, I buried my blue one
And we both deserted that very same night. (Cho.)

Tumble-down cabin on Grandfather Mountain,
We were hunting by night and hiding by day
And when the war ended I met a girl there
But the West called to Kieran and he went on his way.

I married my Polly on Grandfather Mountain,
We never had children, now that seems sad
But she was my delight and I cherish the memory
Of the laughter and love and the times that we had. (Cho.)

7. Bully In the Alley (Trad.) - The Shanty Annas

Terri Messenger (Morticia), Penny Ward (Lady Penelope), Jane Gilday (Mrs Duck),
Fiona Campbell (Pixie of Doom), Liz Draper (Liz the Squeak), Simone Davies

http://www.shantyannas.co.uk

(Chorus) So! Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley,
Way-ay, ay-ay, bully in the alley,
Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley
Bully down in Shinbone Al.

Well, Sally is a girl that I loved dearly,
Way-ay, ay-ay, bully in the alley.
Sally is the girl that I spliced nearly,
Bully down in Shinbone Al. (Cho.)

When I get to Saint Lou I'm gonna steer for my Sally,
Way-ay, ay-ay, bully in the alley!
I'll throw her a line and make fast in our alley,
Bully down in Shinbone Al. (Cho.)

Gotta make damn sure no one ties at her quay,
Way-ay, ay-ay, bully in the alley.
She told me that mooring was just for me.
Bully down in Shinbone Al. (Cho.)

When it's time to leave I'm gonna slip my cable,
Way-ay, ay-ay, bully in the alley!
Gonna visit my Sal as often as I'm able,
Bully down in Shinbone Al. (Cho.)

8. Edward (Trad.) - r.padgett

Ray Padgett (r.padgett): Voice

“What is that blood on thy shirt sleeve? My son, come tell it unto me.”
“It is the blood of my brother who I killed under yonder tree,
Who I killed under yonder tree.”

“What did thou kill thy dear brother for? My son, come tell it unto me.”
“‘Cause he shot at three little pretty birds that flew from tree to tree,
That flew from tree to tree.”

“What wilt thou do when thy father comes home? My son, come tell it unto me.”
“I will plant my foot on board a ship and sail across the sea,
And sail across the sea.”

“What wilt thou do with thy dear wife? My son, come tell it unto me.”
“She will plant her foot on board that ship and sail along with me,
And sail along with me.”

“What wilt thou do with thy children three? My son, come tell it unto me.”
“I will leave them in my good old father’s care to keep him company,
To keep him company.”

“When shall I see thy good old face again? My son, come tell it unto me.”
“When the fish they fly and the seas run dry, and that will never, never be,
And that will never, never be.”

9. Roxburgh Castle (Trad.) - pavane

Neil Jennings (pavane): Melodeon, Dawne Oakley (Mrs Pavane): Bodhran

Recorded in portable cassette recorder, May 1982, Wings folk club, Dubai.

www.greenhedges.com

10. Sixteen Monkeys (In His Pants) - Cool Beans

Written by Marty Kohn ©

Marty Kohn (Cool Beans): guitar and voice

Inspired by a true story. No animals were harmed in the making of this song.

cdbaby.com/Artist/MartyKohn

The other day down in Mexico
The airport line was moving slow
When they gave this dude a second glance
And found sixteen monkeys in his pants.

Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys)
Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys),
It wasn't drugs or exotic plants,
They found sixteen monkeys in his pants.

They weren't very big, it must be said
Five or six inches from tail to head
But it's mighty hard to salsa dance
With sixteen monkeys in your pants.

Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys),
Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys),
You won't win any genius grants
For having sixteen monkeys in your pants.

He had 'em in his suitcase, the guy explains
But he thought the x-ray might cause 'em pains
And he didn't want to take that chance.
He put the sixteen monkeys in his pants.

Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys),
Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys),
There's no one else from here to France
With sixteen monkeys in his pants.

You load sixteen monkeys and what do you get?
Worldwide fame on the Internet,
Not to mention tons of Facebook fans
With sixteen monkeys in your pants.

Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys),
Sixteen monkeys (sixteen monkeys),
Hey, hey, we're the monkeys!
Hey, kids, don't try this at home.
Are those 16 monkeys in your pants or are you just happy to see me?

It wasn't cash or the proverbial ants,
He had sixteen monkeys in his pants.

11. Proud Pedlar - Mary Humphreys and Anahata

Trad. English/Arr. Mary Humphreys

Mary Humphreys: voice & banjo, Anahata (treewind): cello

William (“Billy Waggs”) Wagstaff sang 3 verses, rather muddled up with another song, to Ralph Vaughan Williams
at Orwell's Red Lion pub in 1908. The late Malcolm Douglas helped me to find the original Roxburgh ballad from which it came.
I updated it so modern day audiences can understand the story. A wry story about a woman outwitted by a pedlar
who seems to have something of the Jamie Oliver about him.

www.maryanahata.co.uk

So merrily sings the Nightingale, so merrily sings the Jay,
So merrily sang the proud pedlar as he walked along the highway.

"The bag on my back is worth twenty pounds in gold and good money.
I'd part with it all," the pedlar he sang, "for to lie all night with a lady."

The lady looked out of her window so high to hear the proud pedlar sing.
"Sing on, sing on, you bold pedlar, the song you have lately begun."

The pedlar looked over his left shoulder. He was so neat and so trim.
"I never have sung a song in my life I couldn't sing over again."

"The bag on my back is worth twenty pounds in gold and good money.
I'd part with it all," he sang once again, "for to lie all night with a lady."

The lady, she took the pedlar's hand and led him into the hall.
She led him right into her bed chamber with her bed against the wall.

The pedlar, he lay with the lady all night until it was break of day.
Then he began to think of his pack that he had bargained away.

"Here's twenty pounds," the pedlar, he said, "to buy you fine clothes and rings.
Just give me back my pedlar's pack to earn my living again."

"That wasn't the song you sang last night, the song you sang to me.
I'm glad I've locked up your pedlar's pack and hidden away the key."

"I'll make you rue," the pedlar said, "what you've just said to me.
I'll go and stand in front of your gate till your husband comes home from sea."

'Twas late in the night her husband came home and saw him stand at the gate.
"Why are you standing here?" he asked, "O tell me why you wait."

"Yesterday I baked a cake for thirty people and three.
I needed a mortar to grind my spice and I borrowed one from your lady."

"Now the mortar belonged to your lady fair but the pestle it was my own.
But she has taken my pedlar's pack in payment for the loan."

"Come give him back his pedlar's pack. Such payment is far too great.
O give it him back, my lady fair, then he'll go away from the gate."

"Go take your pack, you proud pedlar. Come take it back again.
Never again will I let a proud pedlar grind spice in a mortar of mine."

"O that was well done," says the proud pedlar. "And it was well turned by me,
For I've got my pack back again and lay all night with the lady.

"By my rakish tricks I lost my pack but my wits have won it again,
And if I live for the next hundred years I will never go back there again!"

12. I Miss You - jeffp

Written by Jeff Porterfield © 2005

Jeff Porterfield (jeffp): Guitar, voice

www.myspace.com/jeffporterfield

I went downtown to the liquor store,
Bought a bottle of whiskey like the night before,
Went back home, put some ice in a glass.
Gonna drink all night till I fall on my ass.

(Chorus) 'Cause I miss you, I miss you so much.
I miss your voice and I miss your touch.
Yes, I miss you.

Don’t care much about the clothes I wear,
Don’t care much about the style of my hair,
Don’t care much about the shoes on my feet
Or the way that I look walkin’ down the street. (Cho.)

(Bridge) Well, I miss you, baby, every night and day;
I don’t know why you went away.
I miss you, baby, and I feel so bad.
You’re the best damn woman that I ever had. (Cho.)

I don’t know what I’m gonna do,
I just can’t get over losing you.
Every night when I lay in bed
I got visions of you runnin’ through my head. (Cho.) (Bridge) (Cho.)

I’ll get up in the morning and I’ll get dressed,
Brush my teeth and hair so I look my best.
I’ll go downtown and find me a girl.
Gonna find someone who can rock my world.

So I won’t miss you, I won’t miss you no more.
I’ll throw your memory out of my back door
And I won’t miss you.

13. I Just Seem To Keep On Loving You - Bruce Murdoch

Written by Bruce Murdoch ©

Bruce Murdoch: Guitar & voice

www.brucemurdoch.com

I just seem to keep on loving you,
Lord knows I tell myself not to!
I live my life behind these walls you walk right on through.
I just seem to keep on loving you.

I just seem to hold you in my heart;
Got a million pieces broke apart.
I used a lake of Krazy Glue, I think I made a start.
I just seem to hold you in my heart.

I just seem to feel your warm embrace,
Lovely smile on your lovely face.
Sun burnt out eight minutes past without a moment's grace.
I just seem to feel your warm embrace.

I just seem to have you on my mind.
When I cannot hear and my eyes go blind
I'll simply think about you till the end of time,
Hold you in my heart and feel your warm embrace,
And have you on my mind.

I just seem to keep on loving you;
Lord knows I tell myself not to!
I live this life behind these walls you walk right on through,
I just seem to keep on loving you, yes, yes, I do.
I just seem to keep on loving you.

14. Telling The Bees - ClaireBear

Music: Jonathan Berger; Lyrics: Claire Beorn Norman; © 2010 Claire Beorn Norman

Claire Beorn Norman (ClaireBear): Voice, Jonathan Berger: violin, viola, mandocello

An English folklore book I read in childhood described this belief, which resurfaced years later on Mudcat.
My sad tale was inevitable, really. Mad genius Jon Berger kindly provided melody and fiddly bits.

www.dogwatch.us

My father had this land from his father ten times over.
He taught me all he knew to help it thrive:
The plowing, planting, harvesting, the cutting of the clover,
The shepherding, the tending of the hive.

Chorus: (He said) "You have to tell the bees of a birth or death or wedding.
If you don’t tell the bees, then they’ll move on.
The land must have its bees for the pollen that wants spreading,
But who will tell the bees when I am gone?"

I married sweet Louise as the summertime was coming,
And when the wedding guests had gone away
I led her to the fields where the gentle bees were humming,
And we told the hive to bless our wedding day.

In time there came three children to share our toil and pleasure,
First Andrew and then Sarah and then Jane.
On the day that each was born, to the fields we’d take our treasure
And the bees were first to know each baby’s name.

But when the last was born my Louise grew thin and weary
And her breathing came more raggedly each dawn.
One chilly day as autumn waned we trod the fields so dreary
To tell the bees my sweet Louise was gone.

Chorus: (For) You have to tell the bees …

When Andrew came of age he could not stand to tarry
He wed and fled to farm a distant shore.
It rained the day I told the bees my son so bright and merry
Would come to tend these muddy fields no more.

Our Sarah took a lad and would soon become a mother.
The land supplied once more a wedding feast
And Jane and I were left behind to plow and sow and gather,
To tend the sodden fields and tell the bees.

When I told the bees that Jane was drowned, I scarce could speak for sorrow,
And sorrow soon will be the end of me.
The neighbors all will come to church to mourn my death tomorrow.
But none of them will think to tell the bees.

Chorus: (But) You have to tell the bees …

15. Limbo (Trad.) - severed-head

Garry Walker (severed-head): voice

www.youtube.com/user/notseveredhead

I am a brisk lad and my fortune is bad
And if e'er I get rich it's a wonder.
I've spent all my money on girls and strong beer
What riches I had are all plundered.
Field after field off to market I sent,
Till the land was all gone and the money was spent.
My heart was so hard I did never repent
And that's what put me into Limbo.

Oh once I could run while the others did lie
Strut like a crow in the gutter.
The people all said that saw me passing by,
"There goes Mr. Fop in a flutter."
To the top and top-gallant I hoisted my sails,
With a flimsy cravat and a wig with three tails,
But now I am ready to gnaw my own nails,
Drink the cold water of Limbo.

Oh I had an Uncle, he lived in the West
And he heard of my sad disaster.
Poor soul! after that he could never take rest,
His sorrows came faster and faster;
He came to the gaol to see my sad case
And as soon as I saw him I knew his old face.
I stood gazing at him like one in disgrace;
And I wished myself safe out of Limbo.

"Jack, if I should set you once more on your legs
And put you in credit and fashion,
Oh will you lay off those rakish old ways
And try for to govern your passion?"
"Oh, Uncle," says I, "if you will set me free
I surely will always be ruled by thee
And I'll labour my bones for the good of my soul
See myself miles out of Limbo.

Then out of his purse he pulled three thousand pounds
Counted it out in bright guineas,
And when I was free from those old prison gates
I went to see Peggy and Jeannie.
In my old ragged clothes they knew nought of my gold,
And they all turned me out in the wet and the cold.
You'd-a laughed for to hear how those hussies did scold,
The night they let me out of Limbo.

16. Ar Lan y Môr (Trad. Welsh) - Mrs Pavane

Dawne Oakley (Mrs Pavane): Voice

Ar lan y môr mae rhosys chochion, (Beside the sea there are red roses,)
Ar lan y môr mae lilis gwynion, (Beside the sea there are lovely lilies,)
Ar lan y môr mae 'nghariad inne (Beside the sea my sweetheart lives)
Yn cysgu'r nos a choddi'r bore. (Asleep at night and awake at morning.)

Ar lan y môr mae carreg wastad
Lle bum yn siarad gair âm cariad
Oddeutu hon fe dyf y lili
Ac ambell sbrigyn o rosmari.

Llawn yw'r môr o swnd a chregryn,
Llawn yw'r wy o wyn a melyn,
Llawn yw'r coed o ddail a blode
Llawn o gariad merch wyf inne.

17. Walk Along, You Sally Brown - Gibb Sahib

Trad., arr. Gibb Schreffler

Gibb Schreffler (Gibb Sahib): Voice

A rare halyard chanty, first noted as being sung by an African-American crew unloading tobacco
in the 1860s (Adams 1879), and later collected by Stan Hugill (1961) from a Tobagonian shipmate.
Part of my Shanties from the Seven Seas project.

www.youtube.com/user/hultonclint

Sally Brown, she’s a bright mulatto, Way, high ya!
She drink rum and chew tobacco.
Oh walk along, you Sally Brown.

Sally live in old Jamaica, Way, high ya!
A-sellin’ rum and growin’ tobacco.
Oh walk along, you Sally Brown.

Sally Brown, what is the matter? Way, high ya!
Pretty gyal, but I cyaan get at ‘er.
Oh walk along, you Sally Brown.

Sally Brown, I loved ya dearly, Way, high ya!
You ‘ad me ‘eart or very nearly.
Oh walk along, you Sally Brown.

Sally Brown she wouldn’t marry, Way, high ya!
And I no longer care to tarry.
Oh walk along, you Sally Brown.

Sally Brown, I took the notion, Way, high ya!
To sail across the bl__dcl_t* ocean.
Oh walk along, you Sally Brown.

Now Sally Brown, I’ll not deceive ya, Way, high ya!
Oh Sally Brown, I’m bound to leave ya.
Oh walk along, you Sally Brown.

*censored

18. Playford Tunes - Tootler

The Black Nag/Dargasson/Old Mole/If all the World Were Paper/Dargasson

Trad. publ. Playford: "The Dancing Master" 1657 & 1651, arr. Geoff Walker

Geoff Walker (Tootler): Soprano recorder & programmed MIDI track

"The Dancing Master," first published in 1651 by John Playford, was a dance instruction book, and each dance
included a tune. Playford adapted existing tunes to suit the dances in his book. The eighteen editions of
"The Dancing Master" are an important source of popular tunes from the second half of the 17th century.

http://soundcloud.com/tootlingeoff

19. Tramps and Hawkers - BobKnight

Trad. Scots; arranged R. Knight © 2010

Bob Knight (BobKnight): Voice

www.knightfolk.com

Come a' ye tramps and hawkers lads and gie yer rigs a bla',
That tramps the country roon and roon, come listen ane and a',
An' I'll tell tae thee a roving tale o' places I hae seen,
Fin I'm traivellin' up intae the North, or Sooth by Gretna Green.

I hae seen the great Ben Nevis a-toorin' tae the moon.
I've been by Crieff an' Callander an' roon by bonny Doon
And by the Nethy's silvery tide an' places ill tae ken
Whaur up intae the snawy north lies Urquart's bonny glen.

Noo I'm aften lauchin' tae mysel' as I'm trudgin' doon the road
Wi' my baggie o' bla' abeen my back, my face as broon's a toad,
Wi' lumps o'cake an' tattie-scones, wi' cheese an' braxie ham,
Nae thinking whaur' I'm comin' fae nor yet tae whaur I'm gaun.

Och, I'm happy in the summertime aneath the bricht blue sky,
Nae thinkin' in the mornin' at nicht where I micht lie -
In barns, byres or onny place, or oot among the hay,
And if the weather dis permit, I'm happy a' the day.

Loch Katrine and Loch Lomond hae aft been seen by me,
The Dee, the Don, and the Deveron as it rushes intae the sea,
Dunrobin Castle, by the way, I nearly had forgot,
And, aye, the rickles o'cairnies mark the hoose o' John o' Groats.

Noo I'm up and roon by Gallowa' or doon aboot Stranraer.
My business taks me onny place, sure, I traivel near an' far.
I've got the rovin' notion there's nothin' whit I loss,
And a' I needs my daily fare an' whit'll pay my doss.

I think I'll gyang tae Paddy's Land, och, I'm makin' up my mind,
Auld Scotland's greatly altered noo, sure I canna fin' the wind.
But I will trust in Providence, if Providence prove true,
An' I'll sing a sang o' Erin's Isle when I come back tae you.

20. Sweet Minerva - Pistachio and Linda Kelly

Written by Linda Kelly ©

Hissyfit (Hazel Richings [Pistachio] and Linda Kelly): Voices

www.hissyfitsfit.co.uk

Sweet Minerva, sweet Minerva, sweet Minerva

(Chorus) Sweet Minerva waits for me,
Anchor down and homeward bound
Heading for St Andrew’s Quay,
Sweet Minerva, set me free.

Heavy rain from Humber skies
Wipe the water from my eyes.
My love’s clearly in my mind.
Glad to leave this trawl behind. (Cho.)

Captive north of Killingholme
Wanting so much to be home,
Prisoner of the waiting tide,
Home and heart are still denied. (Cho.)

Kingston nights shine bright once more,
Diamond lights and dazzling shore,
Smoke house terrace all my own,
Hessle Road and harbour home. (Cho.)

See my woman standing by,
See that rare look in her eye.
Tonight I’ll keep her close to me,
Forget the trials of the sea. (Cho.)

Settling done and some to spare,
Pay the ovel man his share,
Two days on, then back to sea,
Arctic waters wait for me. (Cho.)

Sweet Minerva, Sweet Minerva, Sweet Minerva

21. Here's To The Last To Die - The Doctor

Written by Captain Darling

Peter Taylor (The Doctor): Guitar and voice

The song is sourced by Winstock as The Scottish Students' Songbook, 1892.
Lewis Winstock was the author of "Songs and Music of the Redcoats", one of the standard works
on soldiers' songs. On the song he gives the words as Captain Darling and the tune as traditional,
but then says that the information about Captain Darling came from "the Navy and Army Illustrated,
a journal with an unsurpassed editorial talent for rendering its correspondents faceless and anonymous."
Which basically means we don't know who wrote it, or when, but the Captain Darling attribution is as good as any.

From the CD The Black Cook And Other Traditional Songs (2008)

www.peter-taylor-folksinger.co.uk.

We meet 'neath the sounding rafters
And the walls around are bare,
As they echo to our laughter
'T would not seem that the dead were there.

Chorus:
So stand to your glasses steady,
For 'tis all we have left to prize.
Quaff a cup to the dead already
And one to the next who dies.

Who dreads to the dead returning?
Who shrinks from that sable shore
Where the high and haughty yearning
Of the souls will be no more? (Cho.)

There is many a head that is aching,
There is many a cheek that is sunk,
There is many a heart that is breaking,
Must burn with the drinks we have drunk. (Cho.)

Time was when we frowned on others.
We thought we were wiser then.
But now let us all be brothers
For we never may meet again. (Cho.)

But a truce to this mournful story,
For death is a distant friend.
Here's a health to a life of glory
And a laurel to crown each end. (Cho.)

22. That's Not My Colorado - katlaughing

Written by Kat LaFrance © 1999

Kat LaFrance (katlaughing): Voice

According to Bert, this is the "FIRST Mudcat collaboration song," as he had
the first tune for it. Written on Mudcat as we lived through that awful day
of the Columbine High School shootings. Thanks, Bert, for your encouragement!

www.katlafrance.com

That's not my Colorado
With the blue skies up above;
That's not my Colorado,
Where the school ran with blood.

That's not my Colorado
Where my parents grew up proud,
That's not my Colorado
Senseless killing was not allowed.

Colorado was the beauty
Of the Rocky Mountains high,
Colorado was the quiet
Of the river's gentle sigh.

Colorado meant a home to me
And now I know it not.
That's not my Colorado
Where the children felt the shot.

(Repeat 1st 2 verses)

23. Mama's Song - Morgan Phoenix

© Morgan the grandson

Morgan Phoenix: Voice; Instruments: electronic bagpipes, whistles and drums at PBSKids.com

If I was there for you, I would be by you right now, ooh ooh!

---

16 Jun 11 - 03:51 AM (#3171306)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

EARTH Song List
1 - The Doctor - The Black Cook
2 - The Barden of England - Why?
3 - Mary Humphreys and treewind - Pan O'wn y Gwanwyn
4 - michaelr - The Thingama Jigs
5 - MtheGM - The Farm Servant
6 - treaties - Willy Taylor
7 - stallion - Ratcliffe Highway
8 - Mysha - Catalunya Spirit
9 - VirginiaTam - The Minstrel
10 - Guy Wolff - The Dreadnaught
11 - Janie - Little Sally Walker Down in New Orleans
12 - Tootler - Catherine Ogle/Childgrove
13 - Joe Offer - Long, Long Ago
14 - Genie - Ivah's Song
15 - Crane Driver - Harriet Lane
16 - Stewart - Long Cookstown
17 - Will Fly - Mazurka d'Auvergne
18 - John Hills - The A320 Disaster
19 - My guru always said - Where Ravens Feed
20 - henryclem - Needle and Thread
21 - George Papavgeris - Esperanza Waits Above


Many thanks to Genie for her work in compiling this information.

All lyrics are the property of their authors. Used by permission. Unauthorized usage is prohibited.

Lyrics for EARTH CD

1. The Black Cook (Trad.) - The Doctor

Peter Taylor (The Doctor): Voice

"The Black Cook" dates from a time, before the Anatomy Act of 1832, when doctors
had to rely on the bodies of criminals and paupers for dissection, and some were tempted
to supplement the supply by buying illegal corpses, no questions asked. Hence the rise of the
Resurrectionists and mort-safes, not to mention Burke and Hare. The origins of the song are unclear,
but Roy Palmer thinks it may have originated in Ireland. I got it from Dave Burland's first LP,
and Martyn Wyndham-Read says Dave got it from him.

From the CD Damn Your Eyes, Doctor! The Black Cook and Other Traditional Songs

www.peter-taylor-folksinger.co.uk.

If you'll listen a while, I will sing you a ditty
Concerning of a doctor who lived in Carrtown;
By seamen so bold he was fairly outwitted
And fifty gold guineas was forced to lay down.
These jolly jack tars and their comrades in grog,
Their money bein' spent and their credit far gone,
From Fairport right down to the quayside had rambled
In search for to find a bit money for fun.

Now the cook of our ship bein' one of their number,
A bold lad was he, and his colour was black;
For wit and for wisdom he always was ready
To think of a way to get cash in a crack.
Then up spoke the Cook, "I've heard people say
A corpse might be sold quite easily here.
Come take me alive, tie me up in my hammock
And sell me to buy all your whiskey and beer."

His comrades were glad to accept of his offer
And it's away to the house where the doctor did dwell,
And into his ear they most softly did whisper
Saying, “Doctor, we have a fine corpse for to sell."
Well, the doctor cried out like one in amazement,
"Oh, where did you get him? Come, tell me, I pray!
Come bring him and fetch him unto me this evening
And fifty gold guineas to you I will pay!"

The sailors were glad to accept of his offer
And it's back to the ship where they quickly did steer.
And now pay attention to all I may mention
And the rest of me story you quickly shall hear.
They took the black cook, tied him up in a hammock
But he being a lad both steady and strong,
It's under his coat by way of protection
He's carried a blade about half a yard long.

Now it's 'round about dusk when the streets were deserted
These sailors struck out with the cook on their back.
When they came to the house where the doctor resided
It's in a dark room they concealed that poor black.
The doctor came down and he paid out their money.
They told him the cook, he had died out at sea,
And rather than have his dead body to bury,
"We've sold him to you, sir; he's out of our way."

The doctor soon went for some tools to dissect him
And then he came down with a saw in his hand.
When he came to the room where the cook had been lying,
There boldly did Jack stand with cutlass in hand.
The Doctor cried out as one in amazement
O'er the thought that the black cook was a mighty rich prize.
In a voice loud as thunder Jack boldly did blunder,
Saying, "Damn your eyes, doctor, I'll skin you alive!"

Now, the doctor was forced to retreat in a hurry
And of his late bargain was soon to lament,
While Jack hurried off to where his comrades were drinking
And the rest of that evening was merrily spent.

2. Why? - The Barden Of England

Written by John Barden © 2000

John Barden (The Barden Of England): Guitar, voice

My wife said that this is my protest song, and who am I to disagree?

From the CD Head for the Hills

www.johnbarden.co.uk

Why worry about tomorrow when tomorrow never comes?
Why fill yourself with sorrow when joy within you runs?
Softly, slowly, listen hard, you’ll find
Deep down in there an inner peace of mind,
So don’t be blind.

Why talk of all this fighting, when it always leads to war?
So many wrongs need righting; tell me what they do that for?
Can’t they just see it’s all a waste of life,
Each one precious to a mother, father, wife,
Child of strife.

Why fill our air with gases when it’s none that we can breathe?
Why impoverish the masses when they’re just the ones we need?
Give of yourself; compassion is a start.
Soon you’ll notice the world of which you’re part
Cross my heart.

Why is our planet dying when it’s all been done for greed?
Why are politicians lying when there simply is no need?
Just once, maybe, they’ll think of you and me.
No self interest; just let the people be
Wait and see!

Why worry about tomorrow when tomorrow never comes?
Why fill yourself with sorrow when joy within you runs?
Softly, slowly, listen hard, you’ll find,
Deep down in there, an inner peace of mind,
So don’t be blind.
Don’t be blind.

3. Pan O'wn y Gwanwyn - Mary Humphreys

Traditional Welsh; singable translation by Mary Humphreys

Mary Humphreys: Voice, Anahata (treewind): Jeffreys C/G Anglo concertina

This is a special recording done for Mudcat exclusively.

www.maryanahata.co.uk

Pan o'wn y gwanwyn ar uchelfryn
Yn gwylio'r defaid gyda'r ŵyn
Clywn lais fy nghariad bêr ei chaniad
Yn seinio'n llawen yn y llwyn;
Oedd gwawr llawenydd ar ei deurudd
O mor hardd ei lliw a'i llun,
A minnau'n syllu, ac ymhyfrydu
Gan hardded hwyl fy anwyl Fun.

Free translation by Mary Humphreys:

As I roved out one fine spring morning
To view the lambs and take the air,
I overheard my true love singing,
Her notes so sweet, her voice so clear.
The blushes on her cheeks like roses,
Her skin as white as any dove,
No one more fair, I stood to stare
In wonder at the girl I love.

4. The Thingama Jigs - michaelr

Two slip jigs - "The Homecoming" (© Jonathan Jensen) and "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring"
(J. S. Bach, arr. Jon Berger) - and a double jig, "Buttermilk Mary" (trad.)

Greenhouse (Michael Rofkar [michaelr]: Guitar and octave mandolin, Jon Berger: Violins,
Tony Blake: Spoons, bodhran, drums, Dan Reynolds: Bass, Todd Denman: Whistle)

Published by Kudzu Tunes. From the CD Dreams and High Hopes (Jackalope Records, 2009)

www.celticfusion.org
www.youtube.com/greenhouseceltic

5. The Farm Servant - MtheGM

Trad. Suffolk, learned from the singing of A. L. Lloyd

Michael Grosvenor Myer (MtheGM): Voice, djembe

http://www.youtube.com/user/mgmyer

When I was a farm servant, I liked me bit of fun.
I minded me master's business, as servants always done.
But whenever me master, he went away and left me alone with the farm,
I'd be round the back door with me (knock, knock, knock)
And never a thought of harm I had, no, never a thought of harm.

'T was on a Thursday morning me master to market did go.
He told me to mind his business as servants must always do.
But as soon as me master, he was gone, I came blundering out of the barn,
I was round that back door with me (knock, knock, knock),
And never a thought of harm, I hadn't, no, never a thought of harm.

Well, the mistress, she came out to the door and she bid me to come in.
When I complained of the belly ache she give to me some gin.
She give to me some gin, she did, and never a word to say.
Well, there I was with me (knock, knock, knock),
So a-courtin' we fell straight way, we did, a-courtin' we went straight way.

We hadn't not been at our courtin' but half an hour or more.
She took so kindly to the sport, I thought she'd never give o'er.
“Why John, my darling love” she says, “Your master no more for me,
"For he can't manage that (knock, knock, knock),
"Not half so well as thee, me love, not half so well as thee."

Well, when the master, he come in he asked me how I'd got on.
I told him I'd minded his business, as servants have always done.
He give to me best ale, me boys, but little did he know
I'd been round the back door with me (knock, knock, knock).
If he had, he'd never done so, he wouldn't. If he had he'd have never done so.

6. Willy Taylor (Trad.) - treaties

Theresa Tooley (treaties): Voice

Theresa may have been small in stature but her huge voice, heart and personality will be fondly remembered by all who met her.

This recording was made in the barn at Whittlebury Song and Ale weekend with Theresa raising the rafters
and sharing her song surrounded by so many friends.

Willy Taylor and his youthful true love, full of mirth and jollity,
They were going to the church to be married; he was pressed and sent to sea.

Refrain:
Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Di Do, Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Day,
Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Di Do, Dally, Dilly Dum, Dilly Dum Dum Day.

She dressed herself in sailor's clothing; over her breast she wore a star.
Beautiful fingers long and slender, she gave to them just a smear of tar. (Ref.)

On this ship there being a skirmish, she being wounded amongst the rest,
Silver buttons flew off her tunic; there appeared her snow white breast. (Ref.)

Said the captain to this fair maid, "What misfortune brought you here?"
"Oh, I'm in search of my true lover whom you pressed the other year." (Ref.)

"If you're in search of your true lover, pray come tell to me his name."
"Willy Taylor they do call him, though FitzGerald is his name." (Ref.)

"If you rise early in the morning, early at the break of day.
There you'll find your Willy Taylor walking with his lady gay." (Ref.)

She rose early in the morning, early at the break of day.
There she saw her Willy Taylor walking with his lady gay. (Ref.)

She drew out a brace of pistols which she had at her command;
Then she shot her Willy Taylor, with his bride at his right hand. (Ref.)

When the captain came to hear it, of the deed that she had done.
He made her a ship's commander over a vessel for the Isle of Man. (Ref. x 2)

7. Ratcliffe Highway - Two Black Sheep and a Stallion

Lyrics: anonymous poem collected & published by C. Fox Smith, adapted by Charlie Ipcar;
edited arranged by Peter Outhart, who set the lyrics to “With My Swag All On My Shoulder” from Paterson's Old Bush Songs,
the tune of which is a variant of 'The Boys of Wexford'

Peter Outhart (stallion),Ron Akehurst & Martin Bartlett: Voices

From the CD Crossing The Pond, recorded in Leeds by Rob Van Sante

Come gather round, you sailors, come listen unto me.
Avast a while, I’ll make you smile and tell you of a spree.
There’s many a craft in Wapping, in flying colours gay.
There's pirate ships and fireships along Ratcliffe Highway

Chorus:
So it's mind them fine flash frigates in their flying colours gay
Or soon they’ll clear your lockers out along Ratcliffe Highway.

To the old Three Crowns I first put in, a frigate took me in tow.
I was tempest tossed; me cargo lost, I made full sail to go.
Then I cruised the Mahogany Bar and so by the next day
I lay so high and, oh, so dry along Ratcliffe Highway. (Cho.)

In the Old Rose and Britannia such frigates we have at hand
There’s crooked Lou and squinty Sue and bandy Mary Anne
There’s skinny Sal, the China gal, and flash Maria neat
There’s bouncing Nell and brazen Belle, who’s been through half the fleet

And in the famed King Billy down on New Gravel Lane
There’s Jenny Jones, all skin and bones, and ugly Molly Payne
There’s lusty Bet, as black as jet with a bustle such a size!
And sniffing Annie with her wet nose, and Sukey, gravy eyes. (Cho.)

In the parlour of the Barley Mow I hailed a frigate tight,
Towed her away without delay and boarded her that night.
She took me watch, me money too, me clothes—to my dismay
Two bullies stout, they turned me out upon Ratcliffe Highway. (Cho.)

So, all you Jolly sailors, I’d have you bear in mind
There’s pirate sorts in every port and fireships you’ll find.
But if you're goin' on a spree when you’re out on the loose,
Get moored up right so snug and tight in the Port of Paddy’s goose.

8. Catalunya Spirit - Mysha

Written by Peter Hans van den Muijzenberg © 2008, 2011

Peter Hans van den Muijzenberg (Mysha): Voice

In the early morning of 11 February 2008, the LNG carrier Catalunya Spirit, on course from Trinidad and Tobago to Boston,
lost propulsion off Cape Cod. As the ship received assistance from various support vessels, each subsequent news report would name
a new cause for the engine failure. After a week, the vessel eventually continued under its own power.

I wrote this song for a Mudcat Song Challenge that we held about the events, but to use it for this CD I did have to touch up the lyrics a bit, which eventually also led to a somewhat less generic tune.

It really was a fine day when we first set out to sea
On the Catalunya Spirit, my good friend Juan and me.
It should have been an easy trip, though not exactly dull
With all those tons of liquid gas below us in the hull.

On Sunday we had middle watch, though we didn't care for that.
"This day is for the spirits," was what Juan to me said.
Well, Sunday strictly was no more, but I didn't disagree,
As a big flask Catalunya Spirit he then showed to me.

At our first drop it was one bell and we saw that as a sign,
So at two bells we took two more and all the ship was fine.
After three bells in this fashion that I shared with my dear friend
We didn't think or care about the way that this would end.

At four bells we did some singing, or at least I think we did.
Five, I can't say for sure, but I think we drank a bit.
Of six bells I know nothing but seven I recall,
For then we found that in the flask there was nothing left at all.

But Juan said there'd been plenty and that I surely was to blame.
He raised the bottle in his hand and tried to take his aim.
The bottle, though, went a different way from where he had intended
As it swerved towards the console, where with a crash it landed.

Well, we sort of sobered up a bit when we saw that mess of glass
While some missed drops did seep into the circuitry, alas.
So when a short while afterwards the ship was acting queer
We'd cleaned up everything before the captain did appear.

So when he asked, "What is the matter? What is going on?"
I said "It is the boiler, sir, some thing down there is gone."
Yet Juan at the same time spoke, it was the engine that he named,
But soon we two agreed: 't was the computer that we blamed.

Well, because of "the computer," for a week we made no speed,
And drifting there towards a shore we could no longer heed,
We had to suffer how some tug boats towed our craft away
And worst of all, for such time lost we only got half pay.

So if on Catalunya Spirit a-sailing you should go,
If you should get the middle watch, there's something you should know.
To bring a bottle on the job is a foolish thing to do,
Because to make it through the night you will at least need two.

9. The Minstrel - VirginiaTam

Written by Graham and Eileen Pratt © 1976

Tamara Linn Hiatt (VirginiaTam): Voice

Upon my first hearing of Eileen Pratt singing The Minstrel, I knew I must teach the song
to my daughter, Andie Robbins. Andie was an apprentice bard in the Medieval Society for Creative Anachronists.
Almost two years to the day after Andie’s funeral, I sang The Minstrel for the first time in public.
In fact it was the first time I sang anything in 2 years. Now this is my most requested piece.
With grateful thanks to Graham and Eileen Pratt for inspiring me to learn the song and for permission to record
and special thanks to my Andie for lending me the courage to sing it.

I sang my song at Hastings' battle
To praise the deeds of Charlemagne.
I sang of Arthur and of Roland,
That men remember their great fame.
I sang to rouse a sinking nation,
That king and man might never yield,
But when the battle cry was over,
We all lay dead on Hastings' field.

I sang my song to conquer loved ones.
I sold my voice to him who paid,
To sing his lady gentle love songs
And lend his passion subtler shade.
But when my silver-throated praises
At last did melt her heart of stone,
He paid me, and they both departed
And left me there to sing alone.

I sang my song at fair and market,
A song much bawdier than before.
Amid the pigs and the geese and the cattle
I sought to please the crowd once more.
I sang to win applause and favour,
Songs of the cuckold and the whore,
And though I gladly took their money
I missed the songs I'd sung before.

I sang my song at times of anger.
I found new purpose in my rhyme.
At kings and queens I'd point the finger
And bid them see the nation's crime.
How bitterly did I condemn them,
All those that left the poor oppressed,
But the time was not yet ripe for changes;
I hung at Tyburn with the rest.

I sang my song in mill and coal pit
Me voice all cracked with dust and fume.
I took me tune from the factoriy siren
I took me rhythm from the loom.
But whether anybody listened
Or paid attention, I can't say.
For I couldn't stand the smoke and chimneys
So I packed me bags and I moved away.

My eyes are tired. My voice grows weary.
The aging memory nearly done.
I've sung my song for lord and lady,
I've sung it too for common man.
And when there's no more time for singing,
Until we reach the stories' end,
I'll always find the strength within me
To rise and sing my song again.

10. The Dreadnaught (Trad.) - Guy Wolff

Guy Wolff: Voice, guitar and whistle

There's a saucy well packet, a packet of fame,
She hails from New York and the Dreadnaught's her name.
Away to the westward where the wild winds do blow
And away for the westward the Dreadnaught will go.

Now the Dreadnaught's awaiting in the River Mersey
For the Independence to tow her to sea
To round the Rock Light where the wild winds do blow.
She's the Liverpool packet. Oh Lord, let her go!

And the Dreadnaught's a-sailing down the wild Irish Sea,
Her passengers merry with hearts full of glee.
Her sailors like lions walk the decks to and fro.
She's the Liverpool packet. Oh Lord, let her go!

The Dreadnaught's a-sailing the Atlantic so wide,
The high roaring seas roll along her black side.
With her sails tautly set for the Red Cross to show,
On her way to the westward and the Dreadnaught will go.

And the Dreadnaught's arriving in New York once more.
So go ashore, shipmates, to the girls you adore.
With your wives and your sweethearts how merry you'll be!
Drink health to the Dreadnaught where'er she may be!

Here's a health to the Dreadnaught and all of her crew,
To bold Captain Samuels and his officers too.
You can keep your flash packets, Swallowtail and Black Ball.
The Dreadnaught's the flyer that will lick them all!

11. Little Sally Walker Down in New Orleans - Janie

Written by Janie Endres © 2005, except verses 1 and 6 trad.

Janie Endres (Janie): Voice

"Little Sally Walker" has a rich and varied history. Enter the term in the Mudcat search and two DT versions come up,
as well as numerous Mudcat threads. Little Sally gets around. She inhabits the Carribean, the British Isles, Germany,
and the streets and playgrounds of the USA, where she is best known and remembered as a children's game chant.
I wrote my own version, using traditional verses associated with the song/chant for the first and last verse.
The inspiration is obvious from the lyrics.

Little Sally Walker sittin’ in a saucer
Weepin’ and a moanin’ like a turtle dove,
Gotta rise, Sally, rise, wipe your weepin’ eyes,
Turn to the east, turn to the west,
Turn to the one that you love best.
I ain’t never, no never, been satisfied,
Satisfied.

Way down South in southern Louisiana,
Mississippi Gulf Coast and Alabam’,
Better run, Sister, run, til the storm is done.
Hurricane Katrina roiled in from the Gulf,
The Big Muddy rose up. It was a terrible loss.
I ain’t never, no never seen such a sight,
Such a sight.

Over in Biloxi the saints and the sinners
Clingin’ to each other hand-in-hand
Better pray, Brothers, pray till the break of day.
Gamblin’ boats and churches, fishermen and merchants,
The storm, it spared not a single man.
I ain’t never, no never had such a fright,
Such a fright.

Little Sally Walker sittin’ in a saucer,
Water to the attics down in New Orleans.
Better row, Sally, row, or you won’t ever know.
Row to the east, row to the west
Searchin’ for the ones that you love best.
I ain’t never, no never been satisfied,
Satisfied

Mother, Father, Sister, dear Brother
Sweet Jesus, won’t you take me by the hand?
Get us out! Get us out or we’ll die, no doubt.
Take me to the east, take me to the west,
Just get me to a place where I can rest.
I ain’t never, no never seen life this hard,
Life this hard.

Little Sally Walker sittin’ in a saucer
Tryin’ to get the old man to come back home
Better ride, Sally, ride with your head up high.
Shake it to the east, shake it to the west,
Shake it to the one that you love best,
I ain’t never, no, no never been satisfied,
Satisfied.

12. Lady Catherine Ogle/Childgrove (Trad.) - Tootler

Trad publ. Playford: "The Dancing Master" 1686 & 1701, Arr. Geoff Walker

Geoff Walker (Tootler): Alto recorder and shruti box

Two attractive tunes from later editions of the "Dancing Master" (7th & 11th editions). I first heard them on recordings
by Playford specialists "The Broadside Band". The Mollenhauer "Dream" range of recorders I used on these recordings
have a wide bore which give more of a renaissance-like tone but retain the standard (Baroque) fingering.

http://soundcloud.com/tootlingeoff

13. Long, Long Ago - Joe Offer

Written by Thomas Haynes Bayly, published by Geo. W. Hewitt and Co., Philadelphia 1839

Joe Offer: Voice

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear
Long, long ago, long, long ago.
Sing me the songs I delighted to hear
Long, long ago, long ago.
Now you are come, all my grief is removed,
Let me forget that so long you have roved.
Let me believe that you love as you loved
Long, long ago, long ago.

Do you remember the path where we met
Long, long ago, long, long ago?
Ah! yes, you told me you ne'er would forget
Long, long ago, long ago.
Then to all others, my smile you preferred,
Love, when you spoke, gave a charm to each word.
Still my heart treasures the phrases I heard
Long, long ago, long ago.

Though by your kindness my fond hopes were raised
Long, long ago, long, long ago,
You by more eloquent lips have been praised
Long, long ago, long ago.
But by long absence your truth has been tried;
Still to your accents I listen with pride,
Blest as I was when I sat by your side
Long, long ago, long ago.

14. Ivah's Song (A Lady As Common As The Columbine) - Genie

Written by R. Jeanene Pratt © 1987, 1988

Jeanene Pratt (Genie): recorded guitar & vocals, live harmony vocals
Tammy Aburto-Pratt: live melody vocals

When I bought my house, I found columbine growing wild in the yard. A friend commented, “Oh, columbine is a wonderful weed!”
My mother, Ivah, was that kind of wildflower. I wrote this song for her in 1987 and added the third verse in 1988.
My sister and I sang the song this past June at Ivah's memorial service, accompanying the original recording,
as background for a slide show tribute to her.

www.youtube.com/user/WildeNotesMusic

Down along the winding roads & by the waterfalls & brooks in Arkansas
Little Ivah winds her way & wonders what the river wants to say.
There’s a world of new adventure waiting ‘round each corner to embark upon,
And as she grows the questions smolder, mold her like the river molds the clay.

It’s a childhood as common as the columbine,
Hearty as red clover grows,
And the lessons spread like runners from a common berry vine,
And the roots are planted deeper than she knows.

Thru hard times of afternoon the lessons of the morning will continue on.
Hand-me-downs of pinafores & principles must be her dowry.
Some will say that she must learn to compromise & settle or be left alone,
But she’s a mind to listen to the river & her heart & let it be. (Just wait and see)

She’s a lady as common as the columbine,
Hardy as red clover grows,
And her love spreads out like runners from a common berry vine,
And her beauty’s plainly clearer than she knows.

When she finds new flowers growing in her garden, she will tend them one by one.
Never mind who planted them or if, to some, they’re only common weeds.
Ivah knows that you can’t judge the crop until the growin' & the reapin’s done,
And so she draws the water from the well so deep within to tend their needs. (Repeat 2nd chorus)

15. Harriet Lane - Crane Driver

Written by Andrew McKay © 2006

Andrew McKay (Crane Driver): Lead vocal, duet concertina*, Carole Etherton (SussexCarole): Flute,
Andy Baker: Guitar, Ken Simpson: Fiddle
Chorus voices: Carole Etherton, Andy Baker, Bridget Hayne, Chris Richardson, Joy Toole

*The instrument is a 'Crane' system duet concertina (hence 'Crane Driver').
It combines (IMHO) the best points of the Anglo and English systems.

The song is based on an account of food at sea, written by Jack Owen,
another old Swansea mariner, who was apparently always complaining about his food!
Owen left a humorous account of the food provided for ships' crews in Victorian times, as regulated by
the Board of Trade. One of the men's favourites was a tinned meat product, an early forerunner of Spam,
nicknamed "Harriet Lane" after the victim of a particularly brutal London murder!

From the 2006 CD Characters

www.cranedrivinmusic.com

Oh listen, you landsmen, I'll sing you a song,
How they feeds us at sea when we're out there so long.
The Board of Trade tells 'em the least we can get,
They could give us more, but they never have yet.

Chorus:
Harriet Lane, oh Harriet Lane,
I'm telling you clear and I'm telling you plain
A blessing to sailors is Harriet Lane!

Well, biscuits like roof-tiles we get every day,
They're baked out of sawdust and bulked out with clay.
You can smash 'em or hash 'em or throw 'em away
But with Harriet Lane you get meat every day! (Chorus)

Well, wet hash for breakfast, it works pretty well.
It slips down a treat if you don't mind the smell!
But oatmeal with treacle that tastes just like tar,
It goes over the side, it's a breakfast too far. (Chorus)

But dry hash for breakfast, it isn't so good,
Tastes like it's made out of chippin's of wood.
But pea-soup is fine, it'll warm you right through
And if anything breaks you can use it as glue! (Chorus)

Now the beef that they gives us is leathery hard,
The pork that they gives us is mostly sour lard.
As a slurry with curry they calls it a treat
But with Harriet Lane you gets close to real meat. (Chorus)

(Repeat 1st verse & chorus)

16. Long Cookstown (Trad.) - Stewart

Stewart Hendrickson (Stewart): fiddle and voice; Jerry Middaugh: guitar

From the CD Erin's Green Shore (2007)

www.stewarthendrickson.com

For three long quarters I've been a-weavin'
And for my wages I was penned down.
As for to buy a new suit of clothin'
I made my way on to Long Cookstown.
As I was walking through Long Cookstown,
Oh, Nancy whiskey I chanced to smell.
Says I to myself "I’ll come and taste you."
For three long quarters I've loved you well.

I entered into an alehouse tavern,
I asked their pardon for makin' free
But Nancy met me at every corner,
"You're heartily welcome, young man," says she.
But when I woke up all in the mornin'
I found myself in a strange bed.
I strove to rise but I was not able
For Nancy whiskey ran in my head.

I then called on to the landlady
To see what reck'nin' I’d have to pay.
"It’s fifteen shilling' for ale and brandy
And after that you may go or stay."
I put my hand down to my pocket,
That was the money I did pay down
And lookin' back into my small purse
All that remained was a bare half-crown.

I put my head out of the window,
A charmin' lassie I chanced to spy.
With her I spent my two and two pence,
Now all remained was a fourpenny boy.
So I’ll go home and I’ll join my weavin',
My little shuttle I’ll steer a while
And I will gain more pocket money,
For Nancy whiskey did me beguile.

17. Mazurka d'Auvergne (Trad. French) - Will Fly

Will Fly: Guitar

This is a very popular traditional French mazurka - played at sessions and for dancing.
I've played it, on and off, for some years on guitar while backing concertina or melodeon players -
so thought I'd arrange it for guitar. It's usually played in G, but fits better under the guitarist's fingers in C.
I wanted a bright, clean, summery sound, so capo'ed up to the 4th fret - bringing the actual key up to E.
The guitar ("No. 18") is a medium-sized jumbo made by luthier Ian Chisholm of Ditchling in Sussex, UK.

http://www.mjra.net/WillFly

18. The A320 Disaster - John Hills

Written by John Hills © 1999

John Hills, from “Elsie’s Band”: Voice and guitar

The song, an imaginary tale, was inspired by the crash of an A320 (Airbus) airliner during its development period
in the ‘80s. I can still see the TV pictures now as the craft failed to gain height and came down amid a pine forest.
Although it was not a shocking disaster it fired my imagination to write a melancholy song concerning an airplane crash,
the central figure being the unfortunate Claudette, the original name of the song. It also seemed apt to place the flight
in Europe since the planes are put together in Toulouse, and Geneva is a likely domestic destination.
It is a home recording on MAGIX Sound Lab.DeLuxe through the computer. The song is to be found on limited edition CDs, Nothing to Pay and Songs for ‘Elsie's Band’.

www.elsiesband.com

A cold day in January, the grey clouds filled the skies.
Claudette’s trip to old Geneva was meant as a surprise.
She’d been gone for six long months now she was homeward bound,
But the A Three Twenty flew too low and piled into the ground.

Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the flowers on cold French mountainside.

She shared her mother’s features, her hair the gold of straw.
She was everything her parents had hoped and waited for,
A rose among the clover, a pearl without a flaw,
But the A Three Twenty bore no mind as to its end it tore.

Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the pines on cold French mountainside.

The TV spread the news of the crash both far and wide.
Her unsuspecting parents saw and prayed for those who died.
How could they know that come the dawn when things became more clear,
That they’d receive a stranger’s call to tell them of their dear?

Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the boulders on cold French mountainside.

Some say the plane’s computer was wrong about the height,
The pilot didn’t stand a chance, he saw the trees too late.
Some will blame the weather while others blame the jet,
But reasons now don’t mean a thing to those who loved Claudette.

Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the snowdrifts on cold French mountainside.

Not all of those who took the trip were killed upon that flight.
A lucky few were found alive by rescuers that night.
The age of miracles lives on but not for poor Claudette,
The symbol of the tragedy that France will not forget.

Claudette, twenty two years, never to be the bride,
Lies among the boulders on a cold French mountainside.
Claudette, vingt-deux ans, jamais la belle mariee,
Elle dort parmis les gros pieres aux montagnes Françaises

19. Where Ravens Feed - My guru always said

Written by Graeme Miles ©, used with permission

Hilary Ward (My guru always said): Voice

The other singers on the chorus are live audience at the at the Banbury Canalside Folk Festival where this was recorded in 2005.

This song cries out to be sung on top of a mountain or in the middle of nowhere. In fact friends have already done this very thing.
One of the most beautiful songs I have ever heard and everyone agrees!

This song is a track on a homemade CD, A Toe In The Water, which is not available commercially.

www.hilaryward.co.uk

I roam and ramble in lonely places,
all in the coolness of the rain,
o'er rolling hill and rugged mountain,
o'er sandy heath and grassy plain,

And should you ask am I content there,
I'd answer "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
for my love, it is for lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.

I seek and find these lonely places
where bounds the hare and deer run
O'er crags of grey and mossy boulders
shaded from the morning sun,

And should you ask am I at ease there,
I'd answer, "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
for my heart, it dwells in lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.

I yearn and long for lonely places
where hunts the fox and badgers play,
where midnight stars are at their brightest,
where snows lie deep, where mists hang grey,

And should you ask am I at home there,
I'd answer "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
For my desires are for lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.

I lose myself in lonely places
on heathered moor and bracken fell
and with the wind hold conversation;
it always has so much to tell,

And should you ask am I at ease there,
I'd answer "Yes, oh, yes indeed,"
For I'll always need these lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.
Yes, I'll always need these lonely places
where springs leap down, where ravens feed.

20. Needle and Thread - henryclem

Written by Henry Clements © 1991, 2006

Henry Clements (henryclem): Voice

This song has more of an emotional impact on audiences than any other song I sing live,
and I am thrilled when I hear that others who perform it get a similar response. I've been singing it now
for 20 years and for me it is still an intense and draining experience - every time.

From the 2006 album Shades of the Past

www.myspace.com/henryclements

I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack.
As she patched your dungarees
She'd say you were a terror, Jack,
Forever climbing trees.
The bumps and scrapes and bruises, Jack,
She'd ease your pains away,
She'd patch you and your trousers, Jack,
Then wave you out to play.

I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As your blazer badge she sewed.
You'd passed to go to Grammar, Jack
What pride your Mother showed!
The uniform is costly, Jack,
Comes with such sacrifice
but she'd dress you smartly, Jack,
not have it otherwise.

I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
Machining gloves for pence.
Her fingers turned to leather, Jack,
That you might have the chance.
She toiled for you to study, Jack,
She sewed that you might reap.
If she seemed old already, Jack,
She's given you her sleep.

I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As she polished your new shoes.
She'd pressed the suit she gave you, Jack,
For important interviews.
She said it didn't matter, Jack,
When no job's to be found
Things would soon be better, Jack
But you wouldn't hang around.

I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
the day that you left home.
You'd signed to be a soldier, Jack,
Though to her you're hardly grown,
And she's written you such letters, Jack,
Though she'd have no news at all.
She was knitting you a sweater, Jack,
When the Captain came to call.

I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As she polishes your shoes
She's pressed the suit she gave you, Jack,
For important interviews.
Too many bumps and bruises, Jack,
And no more trees to climb
I'm thinking of your Mother, Jack,
As she's dressed you one last time.

21. Esperanza Waits Above - George Papavgeris

Written by George Papavgeris © 10/14/2010

George Papavgeris: Vocals, 12-string guitar, 6-string guitar

I wrote this in the early morning hours as the last few of the Chilean (and one Bolivian) rescued miners
emerged from the collapsed San José mine in Copiapó. It is a tribute not only to the miners themselves
but also to their families and friends and the whole Chilean nation – the people, not the government – who stood by them
and refused to give up hope. Esperanza (Hope) was of course the name given to the camp formed for the rescue workers and the
miners’ families, as they waited for weeks. But it was also the name given to Ariel Ticona’s baby daughter, born a month before the rescue
(he watched her birth on a video link). So the word Esperanza here refers to all three: the girl, the camp, the hope that kept them all alive.

www.folk4all.net

As thousands camp on a hill
Nunca perder la Esperanza!*
As millions watch with one will
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
As hour after hour after day after week
The noise of the drill, first a hum then a shriek,
The heart dares to dream what the lips cannot speak:
Esperanza waits above!

Chorus:
But the earth can't claim them yet,
For a country stands behind them.
The rocks can't hide them yet,
For a nation's hopes will find them.
And when all this is over
Chile's people won't forget
The thirteenth day of October.
No, the earth can't have them yet!
No, the earth can't have them yet!

When the rocks gave the miners a tomb
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Thirty three in a dark airless room
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Were it up to the bosses what would be their lot?
Would they give up on them, would they leave them to rot?
But a nation can give what the bosses can not:
Esperanza waits above! (Chorus)

Just as courage can wipe away fears
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Every hand now wipes away tears
Nunca perder la Esperanza!
Can you not feel the power, the magic, the spell
As the cable of steel pulls the Fenix** from Hell
And millions of hearts pull together as well?
Esperanza waits above! (Chorus)

*Never lose hope!

** Phoenix

---

16 Jun 11 - 03:51 AM (#3171307)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

WATER Song list
1 - Seamus Kennedy - The Sailor's Alphabet
2 - Noreen - Siúl a Rúin
3 - Mary Humphreys and treewind - Valiant and Alexander
4 - Stephen L. Rich - Talking To The Vines
5 - Linda Kelly and Pistachio - Three Drunken Maidens
6 - Barry Finn - Shores Of The Callow
7 - stallion - Johnny Come Down To Hilo
8 - bbc - My Dearest Dear
9 - Suibhne O'Piobaireachd - Innocent Hare
10 - MtheGM - Spanish Lady
11 - Will Fly - Lindy
12 - henryclem - Stand And Deliver
13 - My guru always said - No, My Love, Not I (When Fishes Fly)
14 - Barbara Shaw - Battle Of Ossipee
15 - Good Soldier Schweik - Bogie's Bonny Belle
16 - Mudinyoureye - From My Window
17 - Animaterra - Maple Sweet
18 - Tootler - Westmoreland
19 - bradfordian - From The North
20 - olddude - Wayfaring Stranger
21 - maeve - Redwing Blackbird
22 - rich-joy - Chendie's Meatloaf Blues
23 - Moses and Singing Referee - The Coffee Song

Many thanks to SussexCarole for her work in compiling this information.

All lyrics are the property of their authors. Used by permission. Unauthorized usage is prohibited.

Lyrics for WATER CD

1. The Sailor’s Alphabet (Trad.) - Seamus Kennedy

Seamus Kennedy: Voice and guitar, Brad Hayford: vocal, guitar, bass & whistle, Caryl P. Weiss: vocal & concertina, Dave Teeple: Bass vocal

With literacy not being the foremost qualification for becoming a sailor,
this was a handy way learn terminology to get you around a ship.

www.seamus-kennedy.com

A's for the anchor that lies at our bow
B's for the bowsprit and the jibs all lie low
C's for the capstan we all run around
D's for the davits to lower the boat down
E's for the ensign that at our mast flew
F's for the forecastle where lives our crew
G's for the galley where the salt junk smells strong
And H is the halyards we hoist with a song

(Chorus)
Merrily, merrily
So merry sail we, no mortal on earth like a sailor at sea
Heave away, haul away, the ship rolls along
Give a sailor his grog and there's nothing goes wrong

I's for the eyebolts, good for the feet
J's for the jibs that stand by the lee sheet
K's for the knighthead where the petty officer stands
L's for the leeside, hard found by new hands
M's for the mainmast, it's stout and it's strong
N's for the needle that never points wrong
O's for the oars of our old jolly boats
And P's for the pinnace that lively do float

Q's for the quarterdeck where our officers stand
And R's for the rudder that keeps the ship in command
S is for the stunsails that drive her along
T's for the topsail, to get there takes long
U's for the uniform, mostly worn aft
V's for the vangs running from the main gap
W's for water, we're on a pint and a pound
And X marks the spot where old Stormy was drowned

Y's for yardarm, needs a good sailor man
Z is for Zoe, I'm her fancy man
Z's also for zero in the cold winter time
And now we have brought all the letters in rhyme
(Chorus)

2. Siúl a Rúin (Trad.) - Noreen

Noreen Keene (Noreen): Voice

Traditional Irish, early 19th century or older. From the singing of Elizabeth Cronin from Ballyvourney, County Cork.
Much discussion of this song and its descendants on numerous Mudcat threads, e.g. www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=30259, www.mudcat.org/thread.cfm?threadid=7985

The title has been anglicised to Shule Aroon. Versions also known as Shule Agra, Buttermilk Hill, Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier, etc.
The chorus can be translated as: "walk quietly my love, walk to the door and come away with me, and may you go safely, my love."
My favourite song of all time.

I would I were on yonder hill,
It's there I'd sit and cry my fill,
Until every tear would turn a mill
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán (may you go safely, my love)

Chorus:
Siúl, siúl, siúl, a rúin
Siúl go socair agus siúl go ciúin
Siúl go doras
Agus ealaigh liom
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán

I'll dye my petticoats, I'll dye them red,
And o’er the world I'll beg for bread,
Until my parents will wish me dead,
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
(Chorus)

I'll sell my rock, I'll sell my reel,
I'll sell my only spinning wheel,
To buy my love a coat of steel,
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
(Chorus)

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain,
I wish my love was home again
But he's gone to fight in France and Spain
Is go dté tú mo mhúirnín slán
(Chorus)

3. Valiant and Alexander - Mary Humphreys & Anahata

"The Valiant", written by Simon Ritchie, and "The Alexander", from the
manuscript book of William Clarke of Feltwell in Norfolk.

Mary Humphreys: Concertina, Anahata (treewind): Melodeon

maryanahata.co.uk

4. Talkin’ to the Vines - Stephen Lee Rich and Sandy Andina

Written by Sandy Andina © 2006

Sandy Andina: Voice and guitar, Stephen Lee Rich (Stephen L. Rich): Backing vocal,
Robert Bowlin: Violin, Ross Sermons: Upright bass

This optimistic song is about realising your dreams.
From our CD Two Guitars, A Dulcimer and an Attitude

www.sandyandina.com

You take that lousy L.I.E. as far as it’ll go
You keep on heading east on 25
And though there’s no mistaking it for Napa or Bordeaux
I love to watch the landscape come alive.
Go exploring—osprey soaring out along the bay
Over rows of ripe pinot, merlot and chardonnay.
Unforgiving city living half a life away,
I’m walking down the lines
And talking to the vines.

For decades, I grew letters, memoranda and lawsuits
My farm was forty stories in the air.
But though I was successful, I could not enjoy the fruits
And unlike me, nobody seemed to care.
Then one weekend I was seeking change in my life’s shape
Found it here in windswept piers and miles and miles of grapes
Seabound siren, east Long Island—glorious escape:
I’m midwife to the wines
And talking to the vines.

You ask me why I’m doing this when I could rake it in
Instead of raking leaves between the rows.
But catch that scent of sauvignon wafting on the wind
And then, my friend, you’ll know.
I think of what I left behind, I laugh and shake my head.
I can’t imagine feeling more sublime.
Had I stayed in that rat race, I could very well be dead
I swear I made it out here just in time.
Visit me and I will see your glass is always full
Look around the sky and Sound, and you will feel the pull
Salty breezes through the trees make cares more bearable
This universe is mine--
My empire of wine

You’ll go dancing down the lines
And talking’ to the vines.

5. Three Drunken Maidens (Trad.) - Hissyfit

Hissyfit (Hazel Richings [Pistachio] and Linda Kelly): Voices

Traditional song about drunken women – not us, surely!!!! Here we have pure fun.
“You can tell they had a smile the whole time they were working this song up.” - Guy Wolff

www.hissyfitsfit.co.uk

There were three drunken maidens
Come from the Isle of Wight,
They drunk from Monday morning
Nor stopped till Saturday night.
When Saturday night would come me boys,
They wouldn't then go out
And these three drunken maidens,
They pushed the jug about.

Then in comes bouncing Sally,
Her cheeks as red as blooms
Move up me jolly sisters,
And give young Sally some room.
Then I will be your equal
Before the night is out
And these four drunken maidens,
They pushed the jug about.

There's woodcock and pheasant,
There's partridge and hare,
There's all sorts of dainties,
No scarcity was there.
There's forty quarts of beer, me boys,
They fairly drunk them out
And these four drunken maidens,
They pushed the jug about.

And up comes the landlord,
He's asking for his pay
It is a forty pound bill, me boys
These girls have got to pay
That's ten pounds apiece, me boys,
But still they wouldn't go out
These four drunken maidens,
They pushed the jug about.>

Oh where are your feather hats,
Your mantles rich and fine?
They all got swallowed up, me lads,
In tankards of good wine
And where are your maidenheads,
You maidens frisk and gay?
We left them in the alehouse,
We drank them clean away.

6. The Shores of the Callow - Barry Finn

Written by Frank McGrath ©

Barry Finn: Voice

A special tribute to a person who was greatly admired not only on the Eastern Seaboard, but throughout Mudcat territory.
This very apt song is included here with kind permission from his partner Justine.
(The beginning of the recording was missing from the source material)

The day is well pleased with itself on this fine summer morn
The dew beams with joy, so cheerful for sunlight's bright dawning
The wavelets' slow beat, as they lazily wash to the shallows
While my aching heart weeps, by the sad sweet shores of the Callow

In the fields and the meadows, we worked and we sported in play
We swam and we fished, by the forested shores of the bay
As children we schooled, as young adults we worked and we toiled
But my aching heart weeps, by the sad sweet shores of the Callow

I remember his hair, so neat, save the strands that fell o'er his brow
And his strong calloused hands, I long to be holding them now
His warm broad smile, to picture it spurs my grief
As my heart crumbles, as the tread on a dry autumn heath

Why does the grass grow so fine o'er the place where he fell
Why do the birds sing without a sorrowful word of him still
Why does nature trill like the sorrowful swoop of the swallow
While my aching heart weeps by the sad sweet shores of the Callow

To have known you, it was my greatest pleasure
The memory of you, it is my greatest treasure
You are now longer gone than all of your youthful years
For your ageless face I shed my aging tears

The day is well pleased with itself on this fine summer morn
The dew beams with joy so cheerful for sunlight's bright dawning
The wavelets' slow beat as they lazily wash to the shallows
While my aching heart weeps by the sad sweet shores of the Callow

7. Johnny Come Down to Hilo (Trad.) - Two Black Sheep and a Stallion

Peter Outhart (Stallion), Ron Akehurst, Martin Bartlett: Voices
(Ron leads the song.)

Ron learnt this shanty from a Scotsman in an Irish bar in Perth, Western Australia.

From the CD Crossing the Pond, recorded in Leeds by Rob Van Sante

www.myspace.com/twoblacksheepandastallion

I’ve never seen the likes since I been born
A big Barbadian with his sea-boots on

Johnny come down to Hilo
Poor old man!
Oh wake her, oh shake her,
Oh wake that girl with the blue dress on
When Johnny come down to Hilo
Poor old man!

I love a little girl from across the sea,
She’s a ‘Badian beauty and she said to me

Oh was you ever in Mobile Bay
Screwing cotton for a dollar a day

I know an old sailor, his name is Uncle Ned
He has no yarn on the top of his head

Oh have you seen the plantation boss
With his long-tailed filly and his big black hoss

So hand me down my riding cane
I’m off to see my sweetheart Jane

8. My Dearest Dear (Trad.) - bbc

Barbara (bbc): Voice

From recordings of Sheila Kay Adams & Doug Wallin
Collected in South Carolina by Cecil Sharp from Mary Sands

Recorded live at the Sandy Paton Memorial Session - NEFFA, 2010

A few days before Sandy Paton’s passing, I'd arrived home from the Swannanoa Gathering Traditional Song Week. My last chat with Sandy
focused on what I'd learned there about ballad singing from Sheila Kay Adams. Through the years of my friendship with Sandy and Caroline,
they had been gently nudging me toward traditional music. As soon as I heard of Sandy's death, I knew I wanted to learn this song
for him and sing it for Caroline. Rest in peace, my dearest dear!

My dearest dear, the time draws near when you and I must part
And no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart
Or what I've suffered for your sake, the one I love so dear
I wish that I could go with you or you might tarry here

My dear old mother's hard to leave, my father's on my mind
But, for your sake, I'll go with you, I'll leave them both behind
Yes, for your sake, I'll go with you, I'll bid them fare thee well
For fear I'll ne'er see you again while here on earth I dwell

I wish your breast was made of glass: your heart I would behold
Upon it, I would write my name in letters of bright gold
Upon it, I would write my name. Believe me when I say
You are the one I'll love the best until my dying day

My dearest dear, the time draws near when you and I must part
And no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heart
Or what I've suffered for your sake, the one I love so dear
I wish that I could go with you or you might tarry here

9. Innocent Hare - Rapunzel & Sedayne

Trad. Arr. Venereum Arvum

Rapunzel: Voice, Indian harmonium, Sedayne (Suibhne O'Piobaireachd): Voice, Black Sea fiddle (Karadeniz Kemence)

From the singing of The Copper Family, The Young Tradition and (perhaps most crucially)
John & Charlotte of Durham, with much respect and eternal cringing deference.
Recorded live in the Barley Temple, Hogmanay 2009 by way of Auld Lang Syne.

http://soundcloud.com/rapunzel-and-sedayne
http://www.myspace.com/venereumarvum

Sportsmen arouse, the morning is clear,
The larks are singing all in the air.
Go tell your sweet lover the hounds are out;
Saddle your horses, your saddles prepare,
We'll away to some cover to seek for a hare.

We've searched the woods, the groves all round,
The trial being over, the game is found.
Then off she springs, through brake she flies;
Follow, follow the musical horn,
Sing follow, hark forward, the innocent hare.

Our huntsman blows his joyful sound,
Tally ho, me boys, all over the downs.
From the woods to the valleys see how she creeps;
Follow, follow the musical horn,
Sing follow, hark forward, the innocent hare.

All along the green turf she pants for breath,
Our huntsman he shouts out for death.
Relope, relope, retiring hare;
Follow, follow the musical horn,
Sing follow, hark forward, the innocent hare.

This hare has led us a noble run,
Success to sportsmen every one.
Such a chase she has led us, four hours or more;
Wine and beer we'll drink without fear,
We'll drink a success to the innocent hare.

10. Spanish Lady (Trad.) - MtheGM

Michael Grosvenor Myer (MtheGM): Voice and guitar

http://www.youtube.com/user/mgmyer

As I walked out through Dublin City, at the hour of twelve o'clock at night
Who should I see but a Spanish lady, washing her feet by candlelight
First she washed them, then she dried them, over her shoulders a silken towel
In all my life I never did see so neat a maid about the soles.

Chorus:
She had 20, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, 8, 6, 4, 2, none,
And she had 19, 17, 15, 13, 11, 9, 7, 5, 3 and one.

As I went out through Dublin City just as the sun began to set
Who should I see but that Spanish lady, she was catching a moth in a golden net.
Soon as she saw me straight she fled me, hoisting her petticoats over her knee.
In all my life I never did see so sweet a maid as that Spanish lady.

And as I walked back through Dublin City just as the clock struck half past eight
Who should I see but that Spanish Lady dressing her hair so trim and neat
First she brushed it, then she teased it, on her lap was a silver comb
For all my life I never did see so sweet a maid since I did roam.

So I stopped to look but the watchman passed. Said he, “Young fellow, now the hour is late.
Away with you home before I wrestle you straightway through the Bridewell gate.”
I threw a kiss to the Spanish Lady, hot as a fire of angry coals,
For in all my life I never did see such a maid so neat about the soles.

As I walked back through Dublin City just as the hour of dawn was o'er,
There I saw that Spanish lady, me being weary and footsore.
She had a heart so full of loving but none of it she had for me.
In all my life I never did know so cruel a maid as that Spanish Lady.

Now she's no match for a Paddy squaddie with her ivory comb and her shawl so fine
But she'd make a match for the Provost Marshall, him drunk on brandy and claret wine
I got a look from the Spanish lady, cold as a fire of ashy coals
In all my life I never did see so cold a maid upon my soul.

I've wandered north and I've wandered south from Stoney Batter up to Patrick's Close
Down and around by the Gloucester Diamond and back by Napper Tandy's house
Old age has laid its hands on me as cold as a night from pole to pole
But where is the lovely Spanish lady, so neat and sweet about the soles?

To me whack to me toor a loor a lady, whack to me toor a loor a lay

11. Lindy - Will Fly

Unknown composer – probably traditional

Will Fly: Mandolin, tenor guitar and guitar

"Lindy" was recorded in 1929 by the Proximity String Quartet, with various string instruments - featuring mandolin -
and harmony vocals. There is an older version from 1905 by the Edison Male Quartette called "By The Watermelon Vine".
The tune is probably much earlier than 1905 - from the minstrel as far as I can tell. My version is instrumental,
on mandolin, tenor guitar and guitar.

www.mjra.net/WillFly

12. Stand and Deliver - henryclem

Written by Henry Clements © 1993, 2006

Henry Clements (henryclem): Voice

“One thing about writing mostly about the past is that it doesn't go out of date.”

From the Album Shades of the Past (2006)

www.myspace.com/henryclements

You say you stand for progress
but you don't fool me
you say you stand for justice
but you don't fool me
you say you stand for honour
but you don't fool me
you say you stand for freedom
but you don't fool me

You say you stand for progress
but you don't fool me
not when you're turning back the clock
to eighteen ninety-three
when health and education
are not for the likes of me;
you say you stand for progress
but you don't fool me

You say you stand for justice
but you don't fool me
not when you choose your victims
in the cause of policy
you've dispossessed the nation
so that markets can be free
you say you stand for justice
but you don't fool me

You say you stand for honour
but you don't fool me
not when you choose your battles
out of such hypocrisy
if Iraq did not have oil wells,
would you fight to set it free?
you say you stand for honour
but you don't fool me

You say you stand for freedom
but you don't fool me
not when you play the jailer
and you've thrown away the key
condemning countless thousands
to the chains of poverty
you say you stand for freedom
but you don't fool me

You say you stand for progress
but you don't fool me
you say you stand for justice
but you don't fool me
you say you stand for honour
but you don't fool me
you say you stand for freedom
but you don't fool me

13. No, My Love, Not I (When Fishes Fly) - My guru always said

Trad., arr. Mary Humphreys

Hilary Ward (My guru always said): Voice

Collected by Cecil Sharpe in 1904 and recorded at Herga Folk Club in 2010.
In my opinion there should be a final verse where the nasty young man receives his comeuppance!

www.hilaryward.co.uk

CHORUS:
For when fishes fly and swallows die, young men will prove true
There's a herb in my father's garden and some do call it rue.

As I walked out one morning, it was in the month of May.
There I met a fair young maid a-gathering of sweet may.
I asked of her to bed with me, I'd marry her by and by
And all the answer she gave of me was, "Oh, no, my love, not I”.

So we walked and we talked together till at length we did agree
To sit down on a mossy bank beneath a shady tree.
The blackbird and the sweet song thrush flew in and out the bush,
And the song they sang in chorus was "Oh, no, my love, not I”.

Now twenty weeks being over, she grew thick about the waist.
This poor girl she grew pale and wan. Her stays they wouldn't lace.
Her gown it wouldn't pin and her apron strings won't tie,
And she rued the day she said to him, "Oh no, my love, not I”.

So she wrote a letter to her true love to come immediately.
But the answer that he sent to her was "No, my love, not I.
Supposing I should come to you, on me they'd put the blame.
My parents would be angry and my friends would me disdain.

"Now the very best thing that I can advise you for to do
Is to take your baby on your back. A-begging you should go,
And when that you grow weary, you can sit you down and cry,
And think on the day you said to me, 'Oh no, my love, not I'”.

14. Battle of Ossipee - Barbara Shaw

Written by Frank and Barbara Shaw © 2009

Barbara Shaw: Rhythm guitar, tenor vocals, bass, Frank Shaw: Banjo, lead vocals, Jim Sherlock: Lead guitar

This song was co-written by Frank and Barbara Shaw at their campsite in the pouring rain at the Ossipee Bluegrass Festival
in Maine on 7/25/2009. They were longing to go home and feeling burdened by the weather and circumstances,
resulting in a song that summons up the mood of a dying colonial soldier dreaming of home.
This song is planned for inclusion on a 2011 ShoreGrass album. Barbara did the recording and mixing at home.

www.shoregrass.com

Under Maine pines where no sun shines
Far away from home
Rain is falling, home is calling
Feeling so alone.

(Chorus)
Soon the dawn will bring tomorrow
Maybe then to go
Where the heart lies under warm skies
Where the home fires glow.

Comes the dawn to guide the spirit
Angels lead the way
Voices singing, can you hear it?
Nearly home today.

Battle over, weary rover
Win or lose or die
Peaceful rest, forever blessed
Under God’s blue sky.

15. Bogie’s Bonnie Belle (Trad.) - Dick Miles

A Bothy Ballad from Aberdeenshire.

Dick Miles (Good Soldier Schweik): Voice, concertina

The Feeing market was an annual event where farmworkers were hired for the forthcoming year. This is one of the loveliest songs
to emerge from the Bothy tradition. The concertina arrangement is based around the beautiful melody.

www.dickmiles.com

As I come down through Huntley town one morning for to fee
Oh I met Bogie of Carnieside and with him I did agree
To work his two best horses and cart and harrow and plough
For of any kind of farm work I very well could do

Now Bogie had a daughter, her name was Isabelle
Oh the lily of the valley and the primrose of the dell
Oft times she went out walking and asked me for her guide
Down by the banks of Cairnie to watch the small fish glide

I threw my arms around her waist, off her feet did slide
Oh and there she lay contented by the burn of Cairnieside
When three months they were scarcely past the lassie lost her bloom
Oh all the red drained from her face and oft times she did swoon

Nine months they were past and gone, the lassie bore a son
Oh I was quickly sent for to see what should be done
They said that I should marry her but oh that would not do
Saying you’re no match for the bonnie belle, oh and she’s no match for you

But now she’s married a tinker lad who comes from Huntley Town
Sells pots and pans and paraffin lamps and he scours the country round
Oh maybe she’s got a better match, old Bogie cannot tell
So it’s fare thee well to Huntley side and Bogie’s Bonnie Belle

16. From My Window - Ann Mayo Muir

Written by Ann Mayo Muir © 2007 (BMI)

Ann Mayo Muir (Mudinyoureye): Voice, baritone ukulele

Note to the listener: Folk songs grow and change. I now prefer to have the tree called "you" instead of "it" and "she" etc.
I hope you will try making this change when you sing it and feel the difference.

www.annmayomuir.com

From my window I can see
The majestic ancient tree.
Although I was only three
It filled me with delight.

Its branches always looked so high
as they swept a clear blue sky.
It made me feel I'd like to fly
Above it like a kite.

I used to think it such a lark
To peel her pretty painted bark
I know she glowed bright in the dark
As I slept at night.

I'd often put my arms around
Listening to her tree heart pound.
Oh, it was a lovely sound,
All my troubles took flight.

My memory of her lingers long
Remembering her leafy song
That stays with me although I've gone
Too far from her sight.

She's my treasure more than gold,
One that can't be bought or sold.
When my life story's all been told
Into the night she'll guide my flight
With her lovely Sycamore Song.

17. Maple Sweet - Allison Aldrich

Written by P. B. Fisk, published in “The Palm” by C.M Wyman, printed by G.H Tilden Company, Keene, NH, 1870

Allison Aldrich (AllisonA(Animaterra)): Voice and keyboard, Hunt Smith: Fiddle, voice

Hunt and I have done the research, and can finally vouch with authority that this is the dorkiest song ever sung.
It’s a hit here in New Hampshire, especially at the end of our long, cold winter. Maple sugaring time keeps New Englanders sane.

www.huntandallison.net

When you see the vapor pillar lick the forest and the sky,
You may know the days of sugar making then are drawing nigh;
Frosty night and sunny day make the maple pulses play,
Till congested with its sweetness, it delights to bleed away.

CHORUS:
Oh! Bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble goes the pan,
Furnish sweeter music for the season if you can,
See the golden billows, watch their ebb and flow.
Sweetest joys indeed, we sugar makers know.

When you see the farmer trudging with his dripping buckets home,
You may know the days of sugar making then have fully come.
As the fragrant odors pour through the open kitchen door,
How the eager children rally, ever loudly calling: "More!" (CHORUS)

Do you say you don't believe it? Take a saucer and a spoon,
Though you're sour as a lemon, you'll be sweeter very soon!
Until everyone you meet, if at home or on the street,
Will be half a mind to bite you, for you look so very sweet! (CHORUS)

18. Westmoreland - Tootler

Trad publ. Playford: "The Dancing Master", 1686, arr. Geoff Walker

Geoff Walker (Tootler): Flute and MIDI programming

This lovely tune comes from the 7th (1686) Edition of Playford's Dancing Master; it also appeared in 18th-century collections.
I first heard it on a recording by the York Waits. It is included in the EFDSS tunebook “Hardcore English”

http://soundcloud.com/tootlingeoff

19. From the North - bradfordian

Words by C. Fox Smith, Tune by Gary and Vera Aspey ©

Barrie Mathers (bradfordian): Voice

A poem by Cicely Fox Smith who lived her childhood around Manchester and its suburbs. It was put to music by Gary and Vera Aspey
who recorded it in 1975 on their LP titled From The North. Used with their kind permission.

I wish't I was in Lancashire, huntin' o' the hare
All across the wide moorlands an' the hollows brown an' bare,
Hearkenin' to the good hounds' cry, hearkenin' to the horn,
Far away in Lancashire on a windy morn.

I wish't I was in Lancashire along o' folks I know,
Rangin' o'er the countryside in all the winds that blow
As they blew when I was yet a lad, in the place where I was born,
Far away in Lancashire on a good huntin' morn.

There's gradely hounds in Lancashire, as such there always were:
There's gradely hills in Lancashire as how they're bleak an' bare:
There's jannock lads in Lancashire, and that I tell you true,
An' I wish't I was in Lancashire all the day through!

(repeat first verse)

20. Wayfarin’ Stranger (Trad.) - olddude

Dan O'Connell (olddude): Voice and guitar

One of my favourite old folk songs.

I am a poor wayfarin stranger, traveling through this world below
There is no sickness, no toil or danger, in that fair land for which I go

Going home to see my mother, going home no more to roam
I'm only going over Jordan, I'm only going over home

I know dark clouds will hover o'er me, I know the path is rough and steep
But golden fields lay out before me, weary eyes no more will weep

Going home to see my father, said he'll meet me when I go
I'm only going over Jordan, only going over home

Going home to see my mother, going home no more to roam
I'm only going over Jordan, I'm only going over home

21. Redwing Blackbird - maeve

Written by Holly R. Torsey © 2009. Used with permission

maeve: Voice, Wood panel yurt: Acoustics

Blackbird, blackbird, singing in the spring
On cattail green you perch and cling.
In brilliant blue of sky your song flies high, oh!
Redwing blackbird, singing in the spring.

Blackbird, blackbird, let your joy take wing!
Rejoice in what the day shall bring,
For every bird and flower will have its hour, oh!
Redwing blackbird, let your joy take wing.

Blackbird, blackbird, let the morning ring
With throbbing notes you skyward fling!
The holy sun is nigh in holy sky, oh!
Redwing blackbird, let the morning ring!

Blackbird, blackbird, lift your voice and sing
As winter now gives way to spring.
In cattails build your nest; let birds be blessed, oh!
Redwing blackbird, let the morning ring.

22. Chendie’s Meat Loaf Blues - rich-joy

Written by Paul Lawler © 1996

Richenda Bridge (rich-joy): Vocals, Paul Lawler: Lead vocals, acoustic guitar,
Mark Higgins: Lead guitar, Andrew Higgins: Keyboards

From the CD A Taste of Good Music (2004) by Paul Lawler & the Just Desserts

Just one of 10 rockin’ recipes, cooked with folk flavours for your delighted devouring! All recipes on website:
www.peculiarhand.com

I'd like to introduce you to Chendie's Meatloaf Blues
I'd like to introduce you to Chendie's Meatloaf Blues
Go get your shoppin' bag, I'll tell you what to use.

From your butcher man, if he's tall and mean
Get a kilogram of minced beef that's lean
And a little bitty bacon from a pig just weaned.

I wan' an egg, black pepper, stuffin' mix
Breadcrumbs, milk, chutney, toothpicks
Curry powder and tomato sauce
Sultanas and a taste of brown sugar, of course.

Now there's no pastry in this, y' don't knead no dough
Tell your vegie man, hey don't be slow
I wanna capsicum, and brown onion to go.

Mix the mince an' the onion, the egg in a bowl
Add the capsicum 'n' pepper, give it soul
Then spread it out flat on a sheet of shiny foil
Ah this cookin's a breeze, it ain't no toil

Now mix the stuffin' an' the breadcrumbs, evaporated milk
And lay it on top, smooth like silk
Put some bacon rashers, all along that thing
Then roll it up baby, whilst you sing.

So place this mini Uluru on a bakin' tray
Lay some rashers on top, toothpicks help 'em stay
And bake it in the oven, hundred eighty degree.

Now before you take out this Meatloaf Blues
Give it sauce on top, 'n' ten minutes to fuse
Then serve it up mamma -
that's Chendie's Meatloaf Blues.

23. The Coffee Song - Moses and The Ref

Written by Christine Connolley © 2007; arr. Steve Last & Christine Connolley

Moses and The Ref (Christine Connolley [Moses]: Voice, Steve Last [Singing Referee]: Guitar & voice)

I received this version of an old story in the traditional way: via e-mail. The song almost wrote itself.
A reminder to make time for the important things in life: family, friends, health. The rest is just small stuff.

www.mosesandtheref.org.uk

I recall just how he stood there, in those memories from afar,
When with all us young ones watching him he held a large and empty jar.
Then he filled it up with golf balls and held it up to the light.
"Would you say this jar is full?" he asked, "Would you say that? Is that right?"

"Oh yes!" we cried, "The jar is full, it's full unto the brim."
"It's full right up, it's full to the top and no more can go in."

Then he set the jar back down again, shook pebbles from a box.
They fell between the golf balls as he gave it a couple of knocks.
Again he asked the question as he held the jar up high,
"Would you say the jar's now full?" he asked, "Come, what's your reply?"

"Oh yes!" we cried, "The jar is full, it's full unto the brim."
"It's full right up, it's full to the top and no more can go in."

Then he set the jar down on the bench and picked up a bag of sand.
The grains filled all the spaces as they trickled from his hand
And now he held the jar up higher above his head.
"Would you say the jar's now full this time? Is it truly full?" he said.

"Oh yes!" we cried, "The jar is full, it's full unto the brim."
"It's full right up, it's full to the top and no more can go in."

Then from under the bench he drew out a cup of coffee in each hand
And poured them both to fill up all the spaces around the sand,
And after we'd all stopped laughing at how we'd got it wrong again
He said "This jar is your whole life; listen while I explain."

"The golf balls are your important things: your God, your friends, your health,
Your family and children. These are your true wealth.
And the pebbles are your working life: your house, your car, your land.
The rest is all just small stuff, the rest is all just sand."

"If you fill your jar of life," he said, "with sand unto the brim,
Your friends and dreams and hopes will have a hard time getting in."

"Take time to watch your kids grow, to play another round.
Take your partner out to dinner and check that your health is sound.
There'll be time enough to clean the house, to fix that tap or drain.
We only pass this way but once, we can't return again."

"So what's with the cups of coffee, sir? What's the coffee mean?"
He said, "I'm glad you asked. It shows that even though it may seem
That your life's full up, there's the house and the kids and the work that will never end,
Still there's always time to take a cup of coffee with a friend."

"Oh yes!" we cried, "The jar is full, it's full unto the brim."
"It's full right up, it's full to the top, still there's room to let more in."

"Oh yes!" we cried, "The jar is full, it's full unto the brim."
"It's full right up, it's full to the top, still there's room to let more in."

---

16 Jun 11 - 03:52 AM (#3171308)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

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

---

16 Jun 11 - 03:53 AM (#3171310)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

UNTIL THE DARK TIME ENDS (Seasonal CD)
1 - Jed Marum - Banjos We Have Heard On High
2 - John P - Personet Hodie
3 - nutty - The New Year Song
4 - Lonesome EJ - God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen
5 - Animaterra - The Comfort Of Singing Voices
6 - Good Soldier Schweik - Cornish Wassail
7 - Barbara Shaw - December Waltz
8 - Seamus Kennedy - Miss Fogarty's Xmas Cake/The Cook In The Kitchen
9 - bradfordian/My guru always said - The Holly Bears A Berry
10 - Fidjit - Christmas Tree Lament
11 - Anne Lister - Dance With The Dragon
12 - henryclem - Sing A Song Of Christmas
13 - Suffet - The Turning Of The Year
14 - Suibhne O'Piobaireachd - Gower Wassail
15 - Mary Humphreys & treewind - Sweet Chiming Bells
16 - skarpi - Á Sprengisandi
17 - Cool Beans - Jingle Bells
18 - ClaireBear - Sweet Perfection (Joseph's Carol)
19 - Leadfingers - When Father Was Pantomime Dame
20 - JohnB - Nowell And Nowell
21 - Dan Schatz - Cold Winter Is Coming
22 - Genie - Raise Your Voices In The Song
23 - Amos - Rebel Jesus
24 - maeve - Ice Storm


Many thanks to michaelr for his work in compiling this information.

All lyrics are the property of their authors. Used by permission. Unauthorized usage is prohibited.

Lyrics for UNTIL THE DARK TIME ENDS

1. Banjos We Have Heard On High - Jed Marum

Written by Jed Marum © 2008

Jed Marum: Lead and harmony vocals, banjos, guitar
Paul Mills: Harmony vocals, mandolin, bass

Produced and engineered by Paul Mills at The Millstream, Toronto ONT Canada

www.jedmarum.com

I heard a band of angels sing
Banjos we have heard on high
Banjos heard on high
“And on this day a new born king!”
Banjos we have heard on high
Banjos heard on high

(Chorus) Holy night, silent night
Lord of Lords and Light of Light
Angels sing, banjos ring
Praise the new born king!

Son of God and son of man
Banjos we have heard on high
Banjos heard on high

In Bethlehem a bright and shining star
Banjos we have heard on high
Banjos heard on high
Bearing gifts came three kings from afar
Banjos we have heard on high
Banjos heard on high (Chorus)

2. Personet Hodie - John P

The band name is Telynor. Musicians are John Peekstok (John P): cittern, organ, tar, zils, and Anna Clemenger: voice, fiddle, recorder.

From "Piae Cantiones", compiled by Theoderius Petrus in 1582.

Personet hodie, voces puerulae
Laudantes jocunde, qui nobis est natus
Summo Deo datus
Et de vir-, vir-, vir-
Et de vir-, vir-, vir-
Et de virgineo ventre procreatus

In mundo nascitur, pannis involvitor
Praesepi ponitur, stabulo brutorum
Rector supernorum
Perdidit, -dit,-dit
Perdidit, -dit,-dit
Perdidit spolia princeps infernorum

Magitres venerunt, parvulum inquirunt
Parvulum inquirunt, stellulam sequendo
Ipsum adorando
Aurum thus, thus, thus
Aurum thus, thus, thus
Aurum thus et myrrham ei offerendo

Omnes clericuli, pariter pueri
Cantent ut angeli, advenisti mundo
Laudes tibi fundo
Ideo, -o, -o
Ideo, -o, -o
Ideo gloria in excelsis deo

3. The New Year Song - nutty

Written by Hazel Bolton ©

Hazel Bolton (nutty): Voice

THE OLD YEAR NOW IS AT AN END
OLD FATHER TIME GROWS OLDER STILL
SO JOIN TOGETHER WITH GOOD FRIENDS
AND WATCH THE SUN SET OVER THE HILL

(Chorus) FOR NEW YEAR BRINGS NEW LIFE, NEW HOPE
NEW FRIENDS, A NEW BEGINNING
SO LOUDLY SING THE NEW YEAR IN
AND SET THE BELLS A-RINGING

THE PASSING YEAR HAS BROUGHT US DAYS
WITH BLESSING RICH AND SADNESS SORE
AND SO WE LOOK TO FUTURE WAYS
AND PRAY THAT HARD TIMES COME NO MORE

WE MEET TO SING THE NEW YEAR IN
WITH HOPE THAT WE WILL ALL BE HERE
TO MEET AND GREET OLD FRIENDS AGAIN
TO TOAST THE HEALTH OF NEXT NEW YEAR

SO FILL YOUR GLASSES, RAISE A TOAST
SEND GOOD WISHES LOUD AND CLEAR
TO THOSE IN LIFE YOU LOVE THE MOST
AND TO ALL THOSE NO LONGER HERE

4. God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen - Lonesome EJ

Ernie Johnson (Lonesome EJ): Guitar and voice

God rest ye merry, gentlemen
Let nothing you dismay
Remember, Christ, our Saviour
Was born on Christmas day
To save us all from Satan’s power
When we were gone astray
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

From God our Heavenly Father
A blessed Angel came
And unto certain Shepherds
Brought tidings of the same
How that in Bethlehem was born
The Son of God by Name.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

And when they came to Bethlehem
Where our dear Saviour lay,
They found Him in a manger,
Where oxen feed on hay;
His Mother Mary kneeling down,
Unto the Lord did pray.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

Now to the Lord sing praises,
All you within this place,
And with true love and brotherhood
Each other now embrace
This holy tide of Christmas
All other doth deface.
O tidings of comfort and joy,
Comfort and joy
O tidings of comfort and joy

5. The Comfort of Singing Voices - Animaterra Women's Chorus

Composed by Alouette Iselin ©

Animaterra Women's Chorus, artistic director Allison Aldrich (AllisonA(Animaterra)): Voices
Solo: Alouette Iselin

Now is the dark time and the cold time too
Gather round, circle of friends,
The comfort of singing voices will see us through
Until the dark time ends.

(Refrain) Until the dark time ends,
until the dark time ends.
We need the comfort of singing voices,
Until the dark time ends.

We give each other company
Gather round, circle of friends,
Singing in sweet harmony (Refrain)

In a cage of bone we keep our wings
Gather round, circle of friends,
If we would fly, then we all must sing. (Refrain)

6. Cornish Wassail (Trad.) - Dick Miles

Dick Miles (Good Soldier Schweik): Voice

O Mistress, at your door our wassail begins
Pray open the door and let us come in.

(Chorus) With our wassail, wassail,
Wassail, wassail,
And joy be to our jolly wassail.

O Master and Mistress, sitting down by the fire
While we poor wassail boys do trudge through the mire.

O Master and Mistress, sitting down at your ease
Put your hands in your pockets and give what you please.

We wish you a merry Christmas and a long time to live
Because you’ve been free and so willing to give.

We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy New Year
With plenty of money and a barrel of beer.

7. December Waltz - ShoreGrass

Written by Barbara Shaw © 1999

This song is from the ShoreGrass self-produced album Going Home, which was recorded at American Melody Studio in Guilford, CT
and released in 2007. Musicians on this song include:
Frank Shaw - Banjo, lead vocals, Barbara Shaw - Guitar, tenor vocals,
Paul Pozzi - Mandolin, Stacy Phillips - Fiddle, Jonathan Shaw - Bass

Inspired by the nostalgia and melancholy mixed with the joy of the season, there is a presence during December of those loved ones long gone, a time when memories come true.

Every December I see them again
The old ones, the little ones, in scenes that never end
The old rooms fill with firelight and lend
A magic to the old December waltz.

(Chorus)
Turning and following, dancing into view
Old songs, old stories in the air
In these old winter melodies, memories come true
Dancing to the old December waltz.

Together again in the sweetest of times
A smile, a melody, happy that I’m
Again in the moment, again in our prime
Dancing to the old December waltz.

8. Miss Fogarty’s Christmas Cake/The Cook In The Kitchen - Seamus Kennedy

Written by C. Frank Horn, c. 188?/trad.

Seamus Kennedy - Guitar, Tenor Banjo, Bones and Vocals; Brad Hayford - Bass and Whistle;
Stevie Morris - Fiddle; Fergus Kennedy - Accordion.

www.seamus-kennedy.com

Disclaimer here - when I recorded the song in 1995, I had no access to the vast resources of the Internet (or a computer),
so I relied on the liner notes from several albums as well as word of mouth from fellow musicians that it was “Trad”.
So that’s what I put in my liner notes for the album - Trad. Fortunately the song is now Public Domain, but I regret the error.

As I sat in my window last evening,
The letterman brought it to me
A little gilt-edged invitation
Sayin’”Seamus come over to tea”
Well I knew that the Fogarties sent it
And I went just for old friendships sake.
The first thing they gave me to tackle
Was a slice of Miss Fogarty’s cake.

(Chorus) Now there were plums and prunes and cherries,
There were citrons and raisins and cinnamon, too
There was nutmeg, cloves and berries
And a crust that was nailed on with glue
There were caraway seeds in abundance
Such that work up a fine stomach ache
That could kill a man twice after eating a slice
Of Miss Fogarty’s Christmas cake.

Miss Mulligan wanted to taste it,
But really it wasn’t no use
They worked on it over an hour
And they couldn’t get none of it loose
So Kelly came in with a hatchet
And Murphy came in with a saw
That cake was enough by the powers
For to paralyze any man’s jaws

Miss Fogarty proud as a peacock,
Kept smiling and baking away
Till she tripped over Flanagans brogans
And she spilt the whole brew of her tay
Aye Seamus she cried you’re not eatin’,
Try a little bit more for me sake
“No thanks, Miss Fogarty” says I,
“I’ve had quite enough of your cake”

O’Carroll was took with the colic,
McNulty complained of his head
McCrudden lay down on the sofa,
And he swore that he wished he was dead
Miss Daley went into hysterics
And there she did wriggle and shake
And everyone swore they were poisoned
From eating Miss Fogarty’s cake

9. The Holly Bears a Berry (Sans Day Carol) - bradfordian and My guru always said

From the Oxford Book of Carols. Collected in Cornwall. St. Day was a Breton saint.

I thought this song needed more than just a solo voice, I wanted several voices, but I did not realise just how much time and effort
is required to get individuals together when one normally sings solo. In the end one kind soul took pity on me.
This was an interesting collaboration done entirely over the internet, not ever meeting my potential singing partner.
My thanks to “my guru always said” for agreeing to it and for her encouragement and patience. - Barrie Mathers

Now the Holly bears a berry as white as the milk
And Mary bore Jesus, who was wrapped up in silk.

(Chorus) And Mary bore Jesus Christ our Saviour to be
And the first tree in the greenwood, it was the holly.
Holly, holly,
And the first tree in the greenwood it was the holly.

Now the Holly bears a berry as green as the grass
And Mary bore Jesus, who died on the cross.

Now the Holly bears a berry as black as the coal
And Mary bore Jesus, who died for us all.

Now the Holly bears a berry as blood is it red
Then trust we our Saviour who rose from the dead.

10. Christmas Tree Lament - Chas Clark

Written by Chas Clark © 1999

Chas Clark (Fidjit): Guitar and voice

The song came about after attending a meeting of the Enebakk Cultural Society (Enebakk Kulturforening) on Saturday November 28th 1999, where I’d heard Kjell Matteussen, a Puppeteer Theatre member reading an excerpt called, “Juletreet” – (The Christmas Tree), from Ragnhild Butenschön’s collection of “Eventyrs og Fabelene” (Adventures and Fables), published in, 1944. The story had been partially taken from the Danish author H.C. Andersen’s “Grantrae” (The Fir Tree).

In Norway the local communal government allows, for a minimal fee, its residents to cut down their own Christmas trees from the woods. The story tells of such an adventure from the tree’s point of view. Whilst growing in the woods, the tree longs each year to be tall enough to be chosen. Finally, it has reached the right height and is taken home to be decorated and the story ends when the star is placed on the top, the lights are switched and the children sing a Christmas carol. From a humble fir tree in the woods it has become a Christmas tree.

My version of the Christmas tree story begins with the very small tree in the woods asking, “What’s all this then? Christmas tree? What’s that all that about then?” The larger trees in the woods answering, “You don’t want to know.” Years go by and the tree gets to be the right size, so it’s at first excited when it is chosen to go with a family. The first word after that is, “Ouch! “ as they, the family, cut it off at the roots. In Butenschön’s version the tree is excited and happy with the nerve biting adventure. In my version, as it is tied to the roof of the car. “Help! I’m being tortured and abducted”.

Later as the warmth of the house weakens its strength, its needles begin to fall. The torture continues in the form of that they, the family, provide the base of the tree with sufficient water to prolong the agony. Then with ritual dances, singing and laughter that continues for a further twelve days and nights, when it is stripped of its glorification dressing and the skeleton is thrown out into the cold. To be blown around by the wind until the refuse removal men arrive to retrieve it from its hiding place behind some fence or bush to take them all to the “Furnaces of Hell”. In the text of my song I have made some references to the Charles Dickens Novel, A Christmas Carol. The Ghosts of Uncle Ebenezer Scrooge. Also there are references to the British, Tommy’s WWII, and saying of “This one won’t last long Lads”.

There is a known tendency to give children destructive toys. As boys we have all played with Soldiers and Cowboys and Indians. The trend continues today with Space Invaders and such. Lastly, I’d read earlier that year of 1999, in a newspaper that the children had cried when they’d heard that Father Christmas wouldn’t be able to reach Kosovo because of the war going on there.

On the 13th day of Christmas I'm dragged out in the hall,
My needles falling on the mat, the curse of one and all
And falling from the tennements, like a stockbroker suicide
Onto the cold, cold snow, a skeleton of pride

(Chorus) Blown by the wind, we roll around and hide
From the dustman's containers, where we will ride
To that graveyard of the Christmas tree and Uncle Scrooge's ghosts
Isn't it the common man that always gets hurt most.

Now different from the two weeks past when I was at my best
With a star upon my head and tinsel on my chest
And the sound of tearing paper, from underneath my skirt
Some handerkerchiefs, a pair of socks and another bloody shirt

Remember those pleasant days when the home it was the hub
The mistletoe, the kitchen shout of, ”I'm going down the pub”
And in '39 when they said this one, it wouln't be the same
We'll all be home by Christmas lads, singing Lily Marlene

Holding hands around me, they sing a Christmas song
This is the way we go to Church, the young ones trip along
There's a sound of children laughing, well they're playing with their guns
But in Kosovo the children cried when Santa didn't come.

11. Dance With The Dragon - Anne Lister

Lyrics, music and arrangement by Anne Lister ©. Produced by Liv Elliott.
Recorded at Overtones Studio, London, at Lyngham House, Cornwall and in Round Pond, Maine.

Anne Lister: guitar and vocals, Steafan Hannigan: bodhran and tabla,
Mike O’Connor: fiddle and concertina, Matt Crum: sax, Julia Lane and Fred Gosbee: harmony vocals.

Written at Hawkwood College, Gloucestershire in December 2001. It’s a carol, of course, and carols are meant to be danced.
Dragons have a habit of sneaking into my songs, so it’s no great surprise to find one hopping around in midwinter.

www.annelister.com

I danced with the dragon through the gates of the sun
As the daylight died
And the tune he was singing made the stars skip and run
In the deep night sky
Down in the forest at the turning of the year
The holly is still king
The trees sing the carols if you’ve ears for to hear
Bring the New Year in.

The dragon guards the fire with the curl of his tail
As the daylight dies
The starlight bends and fractures on a thousand gleaming scales
In the deep night sky
Here the logs are blazing and we sit by the fire
With our songs to sing
A challenge from the winter lord to find our heart’s desire
Bring the New Year in.

When you dance with the dragon be careful of his breath
As the daylight dies
The gates of the sun can lead to new life or death
In the deep night sky
Winter’s on the turning point, darkness will not last
Peace is on the wing
We’ll tell the tales of what’s to come remembering the past
Bring the New Year in.

The dance of the dragon is the flippant dance of time
As the daylight dies
Match him step for step, do not stumble out of line
In the deep night sky.
He’ll turn you and roll you around and around
Your head will rock and spin
And your world will seem much duller when your feet touch the ground
Bring the New Year in.

12. Sing A Song Of Christmas - Henry Clements

Tune trad., lyrics and arrangement by Henry Clements © 1992, 2006

Henry Clements (henryclem): Voice

This was written during that strange pause when George Bush Sr. and his allies
had booked their war in advance but not yet started hostilities.

From the Album Beacon Fires (2006)

www.myspace.com/henryclements

Sing a song of Christmas, goodwill to all men
take down the decorations, it’s back to war again;
when the fighting's over and we’ve restored the king,
there’ll be no vegetation, and no birds left to sing

Now someone’s in his counting-house, adding up the worth
of all the lives expended for this patch of earth;
and if he’s done his sums right it’s not a dainty dish:
there’s devastated oceans, all choked with poisoned fish

This might have been the Promised Land, fertile and always sunny;
now the air is thick and toxic, no more bread and honey
you’d not go in the garden, even if you chose:
if a bloom survived, ‘twould have no scent through the gas mask on your nose.

Sing a song of Easter, Resurrection’s feast;
but you’ll see no phoenix rising from the ashes of the East;
so find another planet not done to death by men;
and then, if Christ has any sense, it’s there he'll rise again.

13. The Turning of the Year - Steve Suffet

Words & music by Steve Suffet © (Suffet)

Steve Suffet: Guitar and voice, Eric Levine: Banjo, voice, Gina Tlamsa: Fiddle, voice, Joel Landy and Anne Price: Voices.
Together the five of us made up the band MacDougal Street Rent Party.

This song was a present to a dear friend who lost her sister in a freak accident on Thanksgiving Day 2000
and who then lost her boyfriend at the World Trade Center on 9/11/2001.

From the CD Now The Wheel Has Turned

www.stevesuffet.com

(Chorus) There’ll be time again for laughter,
There’ll be time again for song,
There’ll be time again for shouting out,
With voices proud and strong,
There’ll be time again for loving,
The time is drawing near,
There’ll be time again for music,
With the turning of the year.

Was a time of sacred blessing,
Was a time of evil curse,
Was a time of contradiction,
The best of times and worst,
Was a time of brilliant vision,
And a time of darkest fear,
There’ll be time again for music,
With the turning of the year.
[repeat chorus]

I’ve heard the holy trumpet,
And I’ve heard the sacred harp,
I’ve heard the Angel Gabriel,
Triumphant by the Ark,
When I listen to your singing,
It’s God’s voice that I hear,
There’ll be time again for music,
With the turning of the year.
[repeat chorus]

14. Gower Wassail (Trad.) - Rapunzel and Sedayne

Trad. Phil Tanner/arr. Venereum Arvum

Rapunzel: Voice and frame drum
Sedayne (Suibhne O’Piobaireachd): crwth, kaossilator and voice

Recorded at The Robber’s Dog Folk Club, Sheffield, December 2010. A nice old chestnut, suitably roasted in good company.

A-wassail, a-wassail throughout of this town
Our cup it is white and our ale it is brown
Our wassail is made of good ale and cake
Some nutmeg and ginger, the best we can bake

(Refrain) Al dal di dal di dal
Dal di dal di dal
Dal di dal di dee
Sing deero, sing daddy
Sing too ral di do

We know by the moon that we are not too soon
And we know by the sky that we are not too high
We know by the star that we are not too far
And we know by the ground that we are within sound

Now Master and Mistress, know you will give
Unto our jolly wassail as long as you live
And if we do life to another new year
We’ll call in again just to see who lives here

15. Sweet Chiming Bells (Trad.) - Mary Humphreys and Anahata

Mary Humphreys: Voice, Anahata (treewind): Voice and concertina

www.treewind.co.uk

While shepherds watched their flocks by night
All seated on the ground
The angel of the Lord came down
And glory shone around
And glory shone around

(Chorus) Sweet bells, sweet chiming Christmas bells (sweet bells)
Sweet bells, sweet chiming Christmas bells (sweet bells)
They cheer us on our heavenly way
Sweet chiming bells

“Fear not,” he said, for mighty dread
Had seized their troubled minds
“Glad tidings of great joy I bring
To you and all mankind,
To you and all mankind.”

“To you in David’s town this day
Is born of David’s line
The Savior who is Christ the Lord,
And this shall be the sign
And this shall be the sign.”

“The heavenly Babe you there shall find
To human view displayed
And meanly wrapped in swathing bands
And in a manger laid
And in a manger laid.”

Thus spake the seraph, and forthwith
Appeared a shining throng
Of angels praising God, who thus
Addressed their joyful song
Addressed their joyful song

“All glory be to God on high
And to the earth be peace;
Goodwill henceforth from heaven to men
Begin and never cease
Begin and never cease!”

16. A Sprengisandi - Rosin Okkar

Music by Sigvaldi Kaldalóns, Lyrics by Grímur Thomse ©

Skarphéðinn Haraldsson (skarpi): guitar, bodhran, lead singer,
Helgi E. Kristjánsson: Bass, guitar, voices, Rósa Jóhannesdóttir: Fiddle.

Ríðum, ríðum, rekum yfir sandinn,
rennur sól á bak við Arnarfell.
Hér á reiki' er margur óhreinn andinn
úr því fer að skyggja á jökulsvell.

Drottinn leiði drösulinn mmnn,
drjúgur verður síðasti áfanginn.
Drottinn leiði drösulinn mmnn,
drjúgur verður síðasti áfanginn.

Þei þei, þei þei. Þaut í holti tófa,
þurran vill hún blóði væta góm,
eða líka einhver var að hóa
undarlega digrum karlaróm.

:,:Útilegumenn í Ódáðahraun
eru kannski' að smala fé á laun.:,:

Ríðum, ríðum, rekum yfir sandinn,
rökkrið er að síga' á Herðubreið.
Álfadrotting er að beisla gandinn,
ekki' er gott að verða' á hennar leið.

:,:Vænsta klárinn vildi' ég gefa til
að vera kominn ofan í Kiðagil.:,:

17. Jingle Bells - Marty Kohn

Marty Kohn (Cool Beans): Guitar

James Pierpont wrote “Jingle Bells” in the 1850s, inspired by the sleigh races
in his Massachusetts hometown. No fool he, Pierpont later moved to Florida.
Also pretty shrewd was his little nephew: J.P. Morgan.

From Marty Kohn’s CD Drawerful of Fives

18. Sweet Perfection (Joseph’s Carol) - Claire Beorn Norman

Lyrics © 2006, 2010 Claire Beorn Norman, Tune trad. English (“I Live Not Where I Love”)

Claire Beorn Norman (ClaireBear): Voice and concertina, Jon Berger: Melodeon, violin, viola, harmony voice

This was inspired by a siege in Bethlehem's Church of the Nativity. I'd always wanted to write a Christmas carol to this glorious tune, but didn't see this one coming.

In the sere and silent desert in the deepest hour of night,
Lo, a village lies in slumber ’neath the stars’ inconstant light
Though a weary world will waken when the day returns to dwell,
Still for now in sweet perfection sleep in peace, O Israel.

At the very hour of midnight in a chamber carved of earth
Where the sheep and ox find shelter, Mary labors giving birth.
By her side is Joseph watching; takes her hand and sighs her name,
Yearns for when she was his only, ere the day her God laid claim.

Sudden comes a shaft of starlight piercing through the heart of dark.
Overhead the Star of Wonder blazes bright and finds its mark.
Angels sing their hallelujahs rising in a cresting wave
It is done as it was written: Christ is come the world to save.

Why is it, now Joseph ponders, that this lot on me is cast?
That the prophets’ ancient story through my Mary comes to pass?
There He lies in sweet perfection – angels bright His praise intone.
Why does overwhelming sorrow bind my heart like bands of stone?

Mary rises from her labor, folds the Baby to her breast,
Lifts from Him her gaze so tender, lets her eyes on Joseph rest.
Joseph smiles in sad acceptance, nods his head though tears do well.
Bravely he will bear the burden, raise a Son for Israel.

But oh, the pain that comes from knowing – for he knows, as sure as tears -
What will come of sweet perfection with the passage of the years.
Why must what was done to save us cause such sorrow, bring such woe?
For hope and grief were born together in a stable long ago.

19. When Father Was Pantomime Dame - Leadfingers

Written by Adrian May ©

Terry Silver (Leadfingers): Guitar and voice

Written and performed as part of ‘Xmasphobia’, a sort of Folk Christmas Revue featuring Adrian May and Chris Weger
singing their own songs with a Christmas slant `round the clubs in the late Nineteen Seventies, and available on cassette at each performance.

I went to visit a show, the Christmas Do at the Hippodrome
The sort of jolly panto that gets Joe Public out of his home
The comic really earned his fee, dressed up and screaming raucously
Imagine it if you can - me clocking my old man

(Chorus) When Father was Pantomime Dame I didnt die of shame
Though he was swishing around in a dress
I told ‘em I couldn’t care less
They said “That’s never your father Jim”
I answered boldly “Oh yes its him”
“Oh no it isnt!” “Oh yes it is!” “Oh no it isnt!” “Oh yes it is!”
My life was never the same, when Father was Pantomime Dame

I never realised Dad was a vocalist and a Thespian
My friends all said “He’s gone mad!”
One jeered “Your mother’s a Lesbian”
I thumped his head, the dozy lout and told him talent will always out
Though Father’s dresses were loud I really was quite proud

Now they’ve stopped saying that dad is into transvestitism
With all the applause that he had
For he’s the one the spotlight is on
He’s the kind of genius that, even if you thought he looks a prat
He’s the kind you never could forge - and Father knew Boy George

For now he’s top of the bill, and making thousands of people laugh
My friends they pester me still, but asking now for his autograph
To see him in trousers is a shock -
They think he always wears a frock
It puzzles Dad to be frank, all the way to the bank

20. Nowell And Nowell (Trad.) - John Burton

John Burton (JohnB) and The Orange Peel Carollers: Voices

I am part of a group who call ouselves the "Orange Peel Carollers". We are mainly from Orange Peel Morris,
and we try to re-create the Sheffield Carolling in our bit of Canada.

The song was noted by Cecil Sharp and Bartle Symons at Camborne, Cornwall (19 May 1913), and was printed in
The Journal of the Folk-Song Society, V (18) 1914, 26-7. Bartle Symons had taken down the words from Mr James Thomas;
they were, it seems, “substantially the same” as those he had learned as a boy from a Mr Spargo, who was at the time
“70 or 80 years of age”. Sharp noted the tune from Mr Symons’ singing.

www.orange-peel-morris.ca/OP/Carolling.html

“Nowell and Nowell” the angels did say,
To shepherds there in the fields did lay;
A’ laying in and a’ folding their sheep,
One winter’s night both cold and bleak.

(Chorus) Nowell and Nowell! Nowell and Nowell!
Born is the King of Israel!
Nowell and Nowell! Nowell and Nowell!
Born is the King of Israel!

And lo, there did appear a star
To wise men three from country far;
Unto the earth it gave a great light
And so it continued by day and by night.

The star drew near unto the north-west
O’er Bethlehem city it took its rest
And there it did both stand and stay,
Right over the place where our Lord lay.

Then entered in those wise men three,
With reverence, upon their knee,
And offered up, in rich potence,
Both gold and myrrh and frankincense.

Between an ox-manger and an ass,
There our blessed Messiah was;
To save our souls from sin and thrall,
He is the Redeemer of us all.

21. Cold Winter Is Coming (Trad.) - Dan Schatz

Dan Schatz: Voice and Apollonio guitar

This American version of an unusual English Midwinter is found in
Thomas Cheney’s "Mormon Songs from the Rocky Mountains."
I learned it from the singing of Ed Trickett.

www.danschatz.com

Cold winter is coming, there’s frost in the air
The beautiful summer is past.
Flowers are all dying that once were so fair,
Their fragrance has gone with the blast.
Oh, the tops of the mountains are covered with snow;
The north wind blows under your door.
Then, if you are able to pay what you owe,
‘Tis time to remember the poor.

Cold winter is coming, his footsteps draw near,
He will spread desolation around.
And make the earth dreary and frosty and sere
And scatter the snow o’er the ground.
Oh, the leaves have turned yellow and fallen from trees,
The beautiful harvest is o’er,
And the beautiful brooks are beginning to freeze.
‘Tis time to remember the poor.

Cold winter is coming, his cold, icy breath
Is whistling through mountain and dell.
All nature he’ll touch with the finger of death,
And lock up the earth with his spell.
He will laugh at the needy and mock at the poor,
As widely he opens their door.
Then try to spare something; a mite every day
A blessing will seem to the poor.

Cold winter is coming. Where plenty abounds,
The dance and the song will be heard.
With mirth and with music your halls will resound,
And many will bow at your word
Then remember the poor, let their hearts be made glad
By something you spare from your store.
It will nourish the feeble and cheer up the sad,
So be sure to remember the poor.

22. Raise Your Voices In The Song (Of Peace On Earth) - Jeanene Pratt

(Music: R. Jeanene Pratt © 1993; Lyrics R. Jeanene Pratt © 1993, 2002, 2003, 2006, 2011)

Jeanene Pratt (Genie): Voice, guitar, tambourine, Tamara L. Aburto-Pratt: Voice

This song basically sprang spontaneously into my head as I was doing routine housework
one day back in 1993. My sister Tammy improvised harmony for it when we sang it at a Christmas Eve service
later that year. Since then I’ve done very minor tweaking of the original lyrics.

www.youtube.com/WildeNotesMusic

Many, many years ago, in a time of strife and woe,
In a little village they call Bethlehem,
God sent down a legacy, precious gift for you and me,
Holy baby born to be our savior & friend.
Angel voices rang across the winter sky
Telling all the world the story of the holy birth!
Joyous! Joyous! What a celebration!
Angel voices sang the song of “Peace On Earth!”

Shepherds tending flocks, they say, in fields not far away
Heard music floating through the skies above.
From their labors long they stopped to listen to the song,
Then went to Bethlehem to show their love.
They stopped. They hushed. They listened while the angels sang,
Telling all the world the story of the holy birth!
Then joyous! Joyous! They joined the celebration,
Raised their voices in the song of “Peace On Earth!”

Centuries have gone their way. Do the people of today
Know the deeper meaning of this season of the year?
Many times the neon lights hide that ancient star from sight
And the song of peace can be so hard to hear.
So stop. Hush. Listen while the angels sing,
Telling all the world the story of the holy birth!
Then joyous! Joyous! Join the celebration,
Raise your voices in the song of “Peace On Earth!”

Th’ angels’ song is still alive; in faith and love it can survive,
And it gives our hearts a reason to rejoice.
You may not hear it in the air, but if you pause to say a prayer
You will hear it echo in that still, small voice.
So stop! Hush! Listen while the angels sing
Telling all the world the story of the holy birth!
Then joyous! Joyous! Join the celebration,
Raise your voices in the song of "Peace On Earth!"

23. Rebel Jesus - Amos Jessup

Written by Jackson Browne ©, published by Swallow Turn Music

Amos Jessup (Amos): Guitar and voice

24. Ice Storm - maeve

Written by Holly R. Torsey ©. Used with permission

maeve: Guitar and voice, Yurt: Acoustics

The rain was falling down in sheets of silver as the cold descended.
Ice had glazed your old, blue truck, felling trees and downing lines.
We filled the kettles full. We stoked up all the fires,
The lights went out and there we sat, contented.
In crystal-studded morning, we slid down the icy hill. The air was hushed,
Except our footsteps and the chanting of the chickadees.
We carried buckets to the stream still flowing in violet shadows.
Joy was in your eyes. How I loved you!

(Chorus) Well water, sweet and clean, is out of reach today.
Power lines along the road are heavy; all strung with pearls.
Stack up more firewood, then set the bread to rise,
In time our hearts will make us wise.

I reached to take each bucket from your hands; then lifting, carried each one
Back from stream to frozen hill. You filled my buckets nigh as full
As yours were, knowing I am strong, yet when I paused to catch my breath
You stopped, and walked along beside me.
My joy is not the glory of the sky like blueberries in hot July,
Nor the weeping diamond lace of apple trees that sparkle;
It is the sweet, unconscious grace - as bodies move together;
Lifting, pouring, living water.

(Chorus)

Our work together is our answer to the ice and stormy weather.
Sky grows bright as we keep pace. We give a prayer of thanks.
I take your hand, you pull me onward. Ravens, laughing by the garden gate,
Surely know the joys of living.
Some morning when your work’s complete you’ll let go of my hand. I know
I’ll go and fetch the water, stoke the fire, set the bread to rise.
For I am strong, and you’ll be waiting for me.
Some bright day, we’ll go again; we’ll fetch the water.

(Chorus)

Some morning when your work’s complete - you’ll let go of my hand.
- I’ll fetch the water.

---

16 Jun 11 - 03:55 AM (#3171311)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

Please post ONLY modification requests to the above LYRICS or NOTES here. They will then be edited, then the post deleted.
Thank you for your co-operation.
Regards
bradfordian

---

14 Jul 11 - 08:18 AM (#3187377)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

This is going great. Thanks eveyone.

Just a few people I have not contacted yet.

If the following can check their contribution AND confirm (or request an edit) by post to this thread.

Marilynio,
Olddude,
Jed Marum,
alanabit

and if anyone else has been accidently overlooked, my apologies, but can you please check and confirm your contribution in the above lyrics and notes.

Many thanks for your co-operation everyone.

bradfordian

---

15 Jul 11 - 06:54 PM (#3188497)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: michaelr

Folks, I just quickly want to explain how we're doing this.

As we said in the introductory post (way up above), we make the changes you request and then delete your post, to keep the thread tidy. Some people thought their post didn't "take" and posted their request again.

If you are unsure whether we have received your post, just check above in the Lyrics and Liner Notes to see whether we've made the change you requested. Please don't repost until and unless you have checked.

After making the requested changes, we place this symbol *^* at the bottom of your post. This means the changes have been made and your post will be deleted after a while. Messages that are not germane to the Lyrics and Liner Notes will also be deleted (we appreciate the thanks and praises, but there will be plenty of time for that when you hold the actual CD set in your hands). I hope that makes sense.

Cheers,
Michael

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31 Jul 11 - 05:20 AM (#3198962)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

Ladies and Gentlemen, the time has now come for me to take the information given above for each of the six CDs to convert into six pdf's ready to incorporate on each of the six CDs. I have to call a halt at some point and this is it; or even, THIS IS US!

After editing the recent suggestions, that is what will be on the CDs.

Further changes may still be made on this thread until such time as we close it.

I would like to take this opportunity to thank everyone who has contributed here to enable us to get the information as accurate as possible, My gratitude extends especially to my colleague Michael for keeping tabs on all the changes.

Keep an eye out for the next thread where we go into promo mode!

I look forward to meeting some of you at the Getaway and later at Herga Folk Club.

Regards Barrie

---

07 Sep 11 - 03:21 PM (#3219648)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: michaelr

US distribution from Dick Greenhaus (CAMSCO).
UK distribution: PM bradfordian.

---

12 Sep 11 - 06:46 AM (#3221837)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: kendall

That's quite a collection. I can't wait to hear it.

Crane Driver, did you know that the Harriet Lane was an early US Revenue Service cutter? In 1915 the revenue cutter service was combined with the Life saving service and they became the US Coast Guard.

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21 Oct 11 - 02:04 PM (#3242611)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: michaelr

I have uploaded the pdf files for each CD to mediafire.com. The link is here:

http://www.mediafire.com/?a7d0ygz3i7xo1

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26 Dec 13 - 05:04 PM (#3586797)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics - A Sprengisandi - typo
From: Mysha

Hi,

16. A Sprengisandi - Rosin Okkar
...
Drottinn leiði drösulinn mmnn,
...

Rather "minn".

Bye

DONE! bradfordian                                                                 Mysha

---

02 Jan 14 - 10:08 AM (#3588358)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: Mysha

Hi,

The above was on UNTIL THE DARK TIME ENDS.



This one is on SKY:

14. Telling The Bees - ClaireBear
...
In time there came three children to share our toil and pleasure,
...
I'd say it's rather "leisure".

I also get the impression the third line in the chorus starts with an "And" all three times in this recording, so that probably should be in the lyrics here as well.

Bye
                                                               Mysha

---

02 Jan 14 - 10:21 AM (#3588361)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: maeve

Hi, Mysha. Claire wrote the song, and she approved the lyrics as they stand.   Many people find themselves tweaking their own songs as they sing them- perhaps that accounts for some of what you noted. I'll send her a PM so she can verify as she wishes,

Maeve

---

02 Jan 14 - 11:12 AM (#3588378)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: Mysha

Hi Maeve,

Ah, yes; I forgot about that. Sorry.

You're right about different versions, BTW: Claire is on YouTube with a version where she does a chorus after each verse, and there she doesn't sing the "And" each time. (But she does seem to sing "leisure" there as well.)
But my mind keeps insisting that the lyrics should be as they are actually sung on the CD. So though I at one point knew that this was not the case here, since I forgot I stumbled over it again. (And a few years down the road I'm likely to forget it again, and ... . )

But until then, I guess Bradfordian can remove the messages about Telling the Bees.

Bye, and Folle Lok en Seine yn 2014
                                                                Mysha

---

02 Jan 14 - 11:51 AM (#3588394)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: bradfordian

I shall await comments from Claire Bear before editing.

---

02 Jan 14 - 12:48 PM (#3588414)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: ClaireBear

Mysha is quite impressively accurate.

I do sing "leisure" instead of "pleasure," an agricultural lifestyle not being big on pleasure (probably not on leisure either, come to think of it -- but surely more leisure than pleasure). I can't imagine what I was thinking the day I typed the lyrics for the liner notes, and I thank you for the thoughtful correction.

As for "and," here's the logic: Now that I've revised the song to include just a few choruses, I start the third line with "and" because it makes the speaker's thought pattern clearer. But when I first wrote the song I sang a chorus after each verse (Thank you, Gordon Bok, for advising that less might be more in this instance!), and in that configuration all those "ands" coming before all the "buts" that begin the chorus's fourth line seemed like way too many conjunctions.

Cheers,
Claire

---

02 Jan 14 - 01:24 PM (#3588427)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: maeve

Great- thanks to both Mysha and Claire!

---

13 Feb 14 - 04:36 PM (#3601224)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: Mysha

Hi,

Maeve - You're welcome.


Claire - I sure can imagine what you were thinking when you were typing the lyrics: "Next comes that relaxed word that has the same ending as 'treasure.'" But then, since when writing 'leisure' doesn't look like a good fit, you typed in another word that matched the requirements, and it was gone immediately as you went to the next line.

It happens to everybody; the only remedy I know, and it's not perfect, is actually sing from the page once you've written it down, to see if it matches what you'd sing from memory. That's also how I tend to run into stuff like that: As I'm taking the song apart to make it my own, I hear the difference between the song and the lyrics.


Barrie - Thanks. It's all yours now.


Bye,
                                                                Mysha

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06 Mar 14 - 05:35 AM (#3607647)
Subject: RE: 2011 Mudcat CD Lyrics
From: skarpi

Hallo all , Mysha you are right its - Drösulinn minn ( mean s my saddle ) ,,,,

all the best Skarpi Iceland .

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I closed this thread because it has become a magnet for Spam. -Joe Offer-

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