YE PARLIAMENT OF ENGLAND
Ye Parliament of England,
You Lords and commons, too,
Consider well what you're about
And what you're going to do.
You're now to fight with Yankees,
I'm sure you'll rue the day,
You roused the Sons of Liberty
In North Amerikay.
You first confined our commerce,
And said our ships shant trade,
You next impressed our seamen,
And used them as your slaves;
You then insulted Rogers,
While ploughing o'er the main,
And had we not declared war,
You'd have done it o'er again.
You thought our frigates were but few,
And Yankees would not fight,
Until brave Hull your Guerriere took,
And banished her from your sight.
The Wasp then took your Frolic,
We'll nothing say to that,
The Poictiers being of the line,
Of course she took her back.
Then next, upon Lake Erie,
Where Perry had some fun,
You own he beat your naval force,
And caused them for to run;
This was to you a sore defeat,
The like ne'er known before,
Your British Squadron beat complete
Some took, some run ashore.
There's Rogers, in the President,
Will burn, sink, and destroy;
The Congress, on the Brazil coast,
Your commerce will annoy;
The Essex, in the Sonth Seas,
Will put out all your lights,
The flag she waves at her mast-head-
"Free Trade and Sailors' Rights!"
Lament, ye sons of Britain,
Far distant is the day
When you'll regain by British force
What you're lost in America;
Go tell your King and parliament,
By all the world 'tis known,
That British force, by sea and land,
By Yankees is o'erthrown.
Use every endeavor,
And strive to make a peace,
For Yankee ships are building fast,
Their Navy to increase;
They will enforce their commerce,
The laws by Heaven were made,
That Yankee ships in time of peace,
To any port may trade.
from The Book of Navy Songs, USNA
filename[ PARLENG
play.exe PARLENG
[The town of Wiarton is situated at the mouth of one of the deepest Great Lake
ports. For years, over 30% of the Captains and First Mates employed in shipping
on the Lakes came from this quiet fishing town in the Bruce Peninsula. There
are very few families in the town, even now, who have not lost a close
relative to the fury of the lakes.]
Now it's just my luck to have the watch, with nothing left to do
But watch the deadly waters glide as we roll north to the 'Soo',
And wonder when they'll turn again and pitch us to the rail
And whirl off one more youngster in the gale.
The kid was so damned eager. It was all so big and new.
You never had to tell him twice, or find him work to do.
And evenings on the mess deck he was always first to sing,
And show us pictures of the girl he'd wed in spring.
CHORUS
But I told that kid a hundred times "Don't take the Lakes for granted.
They go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted."
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
And her lover's gone into a white squall.
CHORUS
Now it's a thing that us oldtimers know. In a sultry summer calm
There comes a blow from nowhere, and it goes off like a bomb.
And a fifteen thousand tonner can be thrown upon her beam
While the gale takes all before it with a scream.
The kid was on the hatches, lying staring at the sky.
>From where I stood I swear I could see tears fall from his eyes.
So I hadn't the heart to tell him that he should be on a line,
Even on a night so warm and fine.
CHORUS
When it struck, he sat up with a start; I roared to him, "Get down!"
But for all that he could hear, I could as well not made a sound.
So, I clung there to the stanchions, and I felt my face go pale,
As he crawled hand over hand along the rail.
I could feel her keeling over with the fury of the blow.
I watched the rail go under then, so terrible and slow.
Then, like some great dog she shook herself and roared upright again.
Far overside. I heard him call my name.
CHORUS
So it's just my luck to have the watch, with nothing left to do
But watch the deadly waters glide as we roll north to the 'Soo',
And wonder when they'll turn again and pitch us to the rail
And whirl off one more youngster in the gale.
But I tell these kids a hundred times "Don't take the Lakes for granted.
They go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted."
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
WHITE COLLAR HOLLER
Well, I rise up every morning at a quarter to eight
Some woman who's my wife tells me not to be late
I kiss the kids goodbye, I can't remember their names
And week after week, it's always the same
And it's Ho, boys, can't you code it, and program it right
Nothing ever happens in the life of mine
I'm hauling up the data on the Xerox line
Then it's code in the data, give the keyboard a punch
Then cross-correlate and break for some lunch
Correlate, tabulate, process and screen
Program, printout, regress to the mean
Then it's home again, eat again, watch some TV
Make love to my woman at ten-fifty-three
I dream the same dream when I'm sleeping at night
I'm soaring over hills like an eagle in flight
Someday I'm gonna give up all the buttons and things
I'll punch that time clock till it can't ring
Burn up my necktie and set myself free
Cause no'one's gonna fold, bend or mutilate me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Written by Nigel Russell and dedicated to the city of Bramalea,
Ontario, Canada.
Recorded by Stan Rogers on Between the Breaks - Live, Fogarty's
Cove Music, FCM-002
filename[ WHITCOLH
Now I've been twistin' broncos
Ever since I hit the trail,
And I think I know a cayuse
From his nostrils to his tail.
It was down by the old Bow River
In the year nineteen and one
That I was twistin' broncos Ever since I hit the trail,
And I think I know a cayuse
From his nostrils to his tail.
It was down by the old Bow River
In the year nineteen and one
For F A McHugh and Sons.
There they had a buckskin nag
Not worth two bits to keep.
He had a black strip down his back
And wool just like a sheep.
He wasn't much for saddles
And it damn near killed the boss
To have to pay ten dollars
Just to bust that two bit hoss.
When I climbed upon him
He just naturally took to the air,
And every time we went aloft
He tried to leave me there,
Until at last we went so high
The light between us shone,
And there we parted company
And he came down alone.
Now I've been twistin' broncos
Ever since I hit the trail,
And I think I know a cayuse
From his nostrils to his tail,
But I'll sell my chaps and saddle,
Set my long shank spurs to rust,
For now and then you'll find a hoss
Yours truly cannot bust.
Yes I'll sell my chaps and saddle,
Set my long shank spurs to rust,
For now and then you'll find a hoss
[This song is not intended as a slur of any kind on the countries who import
food products that our government won't let us eat. It is Stan's sadly ironic
way of describing exactly the status of the Inland Fisheries as seen through
the eyes of many a fisherman our of a job. There IS a Norfolk Hotel - Stan
played there years ago. The village was dying then. Now they have one of the
best Summer Theatre houses in Ontario, but that's little consolation to the men
with the boats.]
Where Patterson Creek's muddy waters run down
Past the penny arcades, by the harbour downtown,
All the old Turtlebacks rust in the rain
Like they never will leave there again.
But leave there they will in the hours before dawn,
Slip out in the darkness without word or song;
For a few more years yet they will work while they can
To catch tiny fish for Japan.
No white fish or trout here, we leave them alone.
The inspectors raise hell if we take any home.
What kind of fisherman can't eat his catch
Or call what he's taken his own?
But the plant works three shifts now. There's plenty of pay.
We ship seventeen tons of this garbage each day.
If we want to eat fish, then we'll open a can,
And catch tiny fish for Japan.
In the Norfolk Hotel over far too much beer,
The old guys remember when the water ran clear.
No poisons with names that we can't understand
And no tiny fish for Japan...
So the days run together. Each one is the same.
And it's good that the smelt have no lovelier name.
It's all just a job now, we'll work while we can,
To catch tiny fish for Japan.
[Originally called 'The Midland' after a lake steamer called 'The City of
Midland', this song is the true accounting of the final disposal of one of
workers of the Lakes. I know Stan just couldn't resist the comparisons to
we treat our retiring workers!]
They dragged her down, dead, from Tobermory,
Too cheap to spare her one last head of steam,
Deep in diesel fumes embraced,
Rust and soot upon the face of one who was so clean.
They brought me here to watch her in the boneyard,
Just two old wrecks to spend the night alone.
It's the dark inside this evil place.
Clouds on the moon hide her disgrace;
This whiskey hides my own.
CHORUS
It's the last watch on the Midland,
The last watch alone,
One last night to love her,
The last night she's whole.
My guess is that we were young together.
Like her's, my strength was young and hard as steel.
And like her too, I knew my ground;
I scarcely felt the years go round
In answer to the wheel.
But then they quenched the fire beneath the boiler,
Gave me a watch and showed me out the door.
At sixty-four, you're still the best;
One year more, and then you're less
Than dust upon the floor.
CHORUS
So here's to useless superannuation
And us old relics of the days of steam.
In the morning, Lord, I would prefer
WHen men with torches come for her,
Let angels come for me.
CHORUS
It's the last watch on the Midland,
The last watch alone,
One last night to love her,
[There were countless skirmishes on the Great Lakes between ships and boats of
all makes and sizes during the War of 1812-14. "Well", Stan said, "we won the
damned war but from some of the accounts you'd really have to wonder how!"]
The clothes men wear do give them airs, the fellows do compare.
A colonel's regimentals shine, and women call them fair.
I am Alexander MacIntosh, a nephew to the Laird
And I do distain men who are vain, the men with powdered hair.
I command the Nancy Schooner from the Moy on Lake St. Claire.
On the third day of October, boys, I did set sail from there.
To the garrison at Amherstburg I quickly would repair
With Captain Maxwell and his wife and kids and powdered hair.
Aboard the Nancy
In regimentals bright.
Aboard the Nancy
With all his pomp and bluster there, aboard the Nancy-o.
Below the St. Clair rapids I sent scouts unto the shore
To ask a friendly Whyandot to say what lay before.
"Amherstburg has fallen, with the same for you in store!
And militia sent to take you there, fifty horse or more."
Up spoke Captain Maxwell then, "Surrender, now, I say!
Give them your Nancy schooner and make off without delay!
Set me ashore, I do implore. I will not die this way!"
Says I, "You go, or get below, for I'll be on my way!"
Aboard the Nancy!
"Surrender, Hell!" I say.
Aboard the Nancy
"It's back to Mackinac I'll fight, aboard the Nancy-o."
Well up comes Colonel Beaubien, then, who shouts as he comes near.
"Surrender up your schooner and I swear you've naught to fear.
We've got your Captain Maxwell, sir, so spare yourself his tears."
Says I, "I'll not but send you shot to buzz about your ears."
Well, they fired as we hove anchor, boys, and we got under way,
But scarce a dozen broadsides, boys, the Nancy they did pay
Before the business sickened them. They bravely ran away.
All sail we made, and reached the Lake before the close of day.
Aboard the Nancy!
We sent them shot and cheers.
Aboard the Nancy!
We watched them running through the trees, aboard the Nancy-o.
Oh, military gentlemen, they bluster, roar and pray.
Nine sailors and the Nancy, boys, made fifty run away.
The powder in their hair that day was powder sent their way
By poor and ragged sailor men, who swore that they would stay.
Aboard the Nancy!
Six pence and found a day
Aboard the Nancy!
THE MARY ELLEN CARTER
(Stan Rogers)
She went down last October in a pouring driving rain.
The skipper, he'd been drinking and the Mate, he felt no pain.
Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt her mortal blow,
And the Mary Ellen Carter settled low.
There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash.
We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost.
And the groan she gave as she went down, it caused us to proclaim
That the Mary Ellen Carter would rise again.
Well, the owners wrote her off; not a nickel would they spend.
"She gave twenty years of service, boys, then met her sorry end.
But insurance paid the loss to us, so let her rest below."
Then they laughed at us and said we had to go.
But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,
For she's worth a quarter million, afloat and at the dock.
And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain
And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.
Rise again, rise again, that her name not be lost
To the knowledge of men.
Those who loved her best and were with her till the end
Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.
All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend.
Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends.
Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow
Or I'd never have the strength to go below.
But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and
porthole down.
Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around.
Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain.
And watch the Mary Ellen Carter Rise Again.
For we couldn't leave her there, you see, to crumble into scale.
She'd saved our lives so many times, living through the gale
And the laughing, drunken rats who left her to a sorry grave
They won't be laughing in another day. . .
And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken
And life about to end
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend.
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Written and recorded by Stan Rogers on Between the Breaks ....Live.
Copyright Fogarty's Cove Music, FCM 002
filename[ MARYELEN
[Stan introduced this song on stage, "I don't care what your politics are, when
our children are dying in the streets, it's time to put away the guns." He
said he'd never write a political song, but he did and we thank him for it. It
is fitting that it be the last on the album as it was the last one he wrote.]
I took back my hand and I showed him the door
No dollar of mine would I part with this day
For fueling the engines of bloody cruel war
In my forefather's home far away.
Who fled the first Famine wearing all that they owned,
Were called 'Navigators', all ragged and torn,
And built the Grand Trunk here, and found a new home
Wherever their children were born.
Their sons have no politics. None call recall
Allegiance from long generations before.
O'this or O'that name just can't matter at all
Or be cause enough for to war.
And meanwhile my babies are safe in their home,
Unlike their pale cousins who cower and cry
While kneecappers nail their poor Dads to the floor
And teach them to hate and to die.
It's those cruel beggars who spurn the fair coin.
The peace for their kids they could take at their will.
Since the day old King Billy prevailed at the Boyne,
They've bombed and they've maimed and they've killed.
Now they cry out for money and wail at the door
But Home Rule or Republic, 'tis all of it shame;
And a curse for us here who want nothing of war.
We're kindred in nothing but name.
All rights and all wrongs have long since blown away,
For causes are ashes where children lie slain.
Yet the damned U.D.L and the cruel I.R.A.
Will tomorrow go murdering again.
But no penny of mine will I add to the fray.
"Remember the Boyne!" they will cry out in vain,
For I've given my heart to the place I was born
And forgiven the whole House of Orange
The Cliffs of Baccalieu
We were bound home in October from the shores of Laborador
Trying to head a bad Nor'easter and snow, too
But the wind swept down upon us making day as black as night
Just before we made the land of Baccalieu.
Oh we tried to clear the Island as we brought her farther South
And the wind from out the Nor'east stonger blew
Till our lookout soon he shouted and there lay dead ahead
Through the snow squalls loomed the cliffs of Baccalieu.
It was hard down by the tiller as we struggled with the sheets
Tried our best to haul them in a foot or two
Till our decks so sharply tilted that we could barely keep our feet
As we hauled her from the rocks of Baccalieu.
Oh the combers beat her under and we thought she ne'er would rise
And her mainboom was bending neigh in two
With our lee rails three feet under and two hands at the wheel
Sure, we hauled her from the rocks of Baccalieu
Oh to leeward was the island and to win'ard was the gale
And the blinding sleet would cut you through and through
But our hearts were beating gladly for no longer could we gaze
SCARBOROUGH SETTLER'S LAMENT
Away wi' Canada's muddy creeks
And Canada's fields of pine
Your land of wheat is a goodly land,
But oh, it is not mine
The heathy hill, the grassy date.
The daisy spangled lea, the purling burn and craggy linn, auld
Scotland's glens give me.
Oh, I would like to hear again the lark on Tinny's hill
And see the wee bit gowany that blooms beside the rill.
Like banished Swiss who view afar his Alps with longing e'e.
I gaze upon the morning star that shines on my country.
No more I'll win by Eskdale glen or Pentland's craggy comb.
The days can ne'er come back again of thirty years that's gone,
But fancy oft at midnight hour will steal across the sea.
And yestereve, in a pleasant dream, I saw the old country.
Each well-known scene that met my view brought childhood's joys
to mind.
The blackbird sang on Tushey linn the song he sang, 'lang syne.'
But like a dream time flies away, again, the morning came.
And I awoke in Canada, three thousand miles frae hame.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Whether the Scarborough referred to is the one in the British
Isles or the wasteland near Toronto (known locally as Scarberia)
we don't know.
Author unknown.
Recorded by Stan Rogers in 1982 on For the Family, Folk
Tradition, R002.
filename[ SCARSET
ROLLING DOWN TO OLD MAUI
sung (but not written) by Stan Rogers
It's a damn tough life, full of toil and strife, we whalermen undergo,
And we won't give a damn when the gales are done how hard the
winds did blow,
For we're homeward bound from the Arctic grounds with a good ship
taught and free,
And we won't give a damn when we drink our rum with the girls
from old Maui.
CHORUS:
Rolling down to old Maui, me boys, rolling down to old Maui,
We're homeward bound from the Arctic grounds, rolling down to old Maui.
Once more we sail with the northerly gales through the ice and
wind and rain, Them coconut fronds, them tropical shores, we soon
shall see again;
Six hellish months we've passed away on the cold Kamchatka sea,
But now we're bound from the Arctic grounds, rolling down to old Maui.
(chorus)
Once more we sail with the Northerly gales, towards our island home,
Our whaling done, our mainmast sprung, and we ain't got far to roam;
Our stuns'l's bones is carried away, what care we for that sound,
A living gale is after us, thank God we're homeward bound.
(chorus)
How soft the breeze through the island trees, now the ice is far astern,
Them native maids, them tropical glades, is awaiting our return;
Even now their big brown eyes look out, hoping some fine day to see,
Our baggy sails, running 'fore the gales, rolling down to old Maui.
(chorus)
Extracted from /pub/music/lyrics/files/misc.folk/songs.txt
Northwest Passage
(Stan Rogers)
cho: Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea;
Tracing one warm line through a land so wide and savage
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea.
Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died;
Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered, broken bones
And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones.
Three centuries thereafter, I take passage overland
In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his "sea of flowers" began
Watching cities rise before me, then behind me sink again
This tardiest explorer, driving hard across the plain.
And through the night, behind the wheel, the mileage clicking west
I think upon Mackenzie, David Thompson and the rest
Who cracked the mountain ramparts and it did give me a humping streak
To race the roaring Fraser to the sea.
How then am I so different from the first men through this way?
Like them, I left a settled life, I threw it all away.
To seek a Northwest Passage at the call of many men
To find there but the road back home again.
Copyright Fogarty's Cove Music, Inc.
see also JUSTDIME, NEPASSAGE
filename[ NWPASS
[Research sometimes turns up more than just a lot of information. Bruce Kemp,
a freelance photographer, supplied Stan with a true life story. There really is
a wonderful, crazy man in Windsor who has raised the Blue Dolphin from the
harbour mud. She is the sister ship of the Bluenose, about 20 ft. shorter and
somewhat deeper and heavier in the keel. She saw service as a pleasure craft,
a research ship and then as a sub tracker in W.W.II. Attempts are being made
to restore her and put her on display as a museum. Support for this venture
can be sent to Bruce Kemp, 60 Shanly St., Toronto Ontario M6H 1S5]
It was just like him. He had to pick
A boat gone from dowdy to derelict
In half a dozen years
Of searching for an owner
She may have lost her heart in the harbour mud,
But she really caught his at the flood;
And he wonders how she knew
That she was waiting for a loner.
Blue Dolphin, built by the Rhuland men,
She's lying on the bottom again
With only him to care
That Bluenose had a sister.
He lost the house and he sold the car.
His wife walked out; so he hit the bars
And hit up every friend
To raise the Blue Dolphin
And even afloat she's a hole in the water where his money goes.
Every dollar goes
And it's driving him crazy.
He pounds his fists white on the dock in the night
And cries, "I'm gonna win!"
And licks the blood away.
And he's gonna raise the Dolphin.
Blue Dolphin's lying like a wounded whale.
She's hungry for a scrap of a sail
To get her underway
Back to salt water.
Now there's a man lying spent in the winter sun.
He wonders what the hell he has done
And who would ever pay
To save his schooner daughter.
For even afloat she's a hole in the water where his money goes.
Every dollar goes
And it's driving him crazy.
He pounds his fists white on the dock in the night
And cries, "I'm gonna win!"
And licks the blood away.
[Another unsung hero of Canadian history . . . The texts give a terribly sparse
accounting of this man. He was a Major under Brock, and apparently not a very
popular one. He was one of those "good young men" form the "right" kind of
family with the "right" kind of gentleman's education, a law practise and te
ear of influential people of the day. there's nothing to indicate he was not a
decent sort, but somebody writing up the accounts didn't want too much of the
glory to be taken from the General! Perhaps this is one way of vindicating the
historical vagaries of this nation. It gives me no small amount of
satisfaction to think that more people will know that there's more than just
Brock under that huge stone monument.]
Too thin the line that charged the Heights
And scrambled in the clay.
Too thin the Eastern Township Scot
Who showed them all the way,
And perhaps had you not fallen,
You might be what Brock became
But not one in ten thousand knows your name.
To say the name, MacDonnell,
It would bring no bugle call
But the Redcoats stayed beside you
When they saw the General fall.
Twas MacDonnell raised the banner then
And set the Heights aflame,
But not one in ten thousand knows your name.
You brought the field all standing with your courage and your luck
But unknown to most, you're lying there beside old General Brock.
So you know what it is to scale the Heights and fall just short of fame
And have not one in ten thousand know your name.
At Queenston now, the General on his tower stands alone
And there's lichen on 'MacDonnell' carved upon that weathered stone
In a corner of the monument to glory you could claim,
But not one in ten thousand knows your name.
You brought the field all standing with your courage and your luck
But unknown to most, you're lying there beside old General Brock.
So you know what it is to scale the Heights and fall just short of fame
[There is an extensive system of locks along the St. Lawrence Seaway.
locks have a marvellous history. It's a pity they couldn't speak half the
tales they've been privy to. I guess it probably goes without saying
that
everyone who has to travel to make a living will relate to the parallels in
this song. Stan loved the road and performing was life's-blood, but he
wanted
very badly to be the lock-keeper.]
You say, "Well-met again, Lock-keeper!
We're laden even deeper that the time before,
Oriental oils and tea brought down from Singapore."
As we wait for my lock to cycle
I say, "My wife has given me a son."
"A son!" you cry, "Is that all that you've done?"
She wears bougainvillea blossoms.
You pluck 'em from her hair and toss 'em in the tide,
Sweep her in your arms and carry her inside.
Her sighs catch on your shoulder;
Her moonlit eyes grow bold and wiser through her tears
And I say, "How could you stand to leave her for a year?"
"Then come with me," you say, "to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder."
"Come with me!" you cry,
"Each day you tend this lock, you're one day older,
While your blood grows colder."
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of home.
Sure I'm stuck here on the Seaway
While you compensate for leeway through the Trades;
And you shoot the stars to see the miles you've made.
And you laugh at hearts you've riven,
But which of these has given us more love or life:
You, your tropic maids, or me, my wife.
"Then come with me," you say, "to where the Southern Cross
Rides high upon your shoulder."
"Ah come with me!" you cry,
"Each day you tend this lock, you're one day older,
While your blood grows colder."
But that anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
And I wouldn't trade your life for one hour of home.
Ah, your anchor chain's a fetter
And with it you are tethered to the foam,
Lady Margaret
Sweet William rose one morning bright
And dressed himself in blue
"Come tell to me the long lost love
Between Lady Margaret and you"
"I know no harm of Lady Margaret," said he
"And I hope she knows none of me
But tomorrow morning before eight o'clock
Lady Margaret my bride shall be"
As Lady Margaret was in her chamber high
A-combing up her hair
She spied sweet William and his bride
As they to the church drew near
She threw down her ivory comb
And tossed back her hair
And from the room a fair lady came
That was seen in there no more
The day being gone and the night being come
When most men were asleep
Sweet William spied Lady Margaret's ghost
A-standing at his bed feet
"How do you like your bed?" she said
"And how do you like your sheet?
And how do you like the fair lady
That lies in your arms asleep?"
"Very well do I like my bed," said he
"Very well do I like my sheet
But better do I like the fair lady
That is standing at my bed feet"
The night being gone and the day being come
When most men were awake
Sweet William said he was troubled in his head
From a dream he had last night
He called his weary waiting maids
By one, by two, by three
And last of all, with his bride's consent
Lady Margaret he went to see
He went unto the parlor door
He knocked until he made things ring
But none was so ready as her own dear brother
To arise and let him in
"Is Lady Margaret in the parlor?" said he
"Or is she in the hall
Or is she in her chamber high
Among the gay ladies all?"
"Lady Margaret is not in the parlor," said he
"She is neither in the hall
She is in her coffin
And a-lying by the wall"
"Tear down, tear down, those milk white sheets
They are made of silk so fine
That I may kiss Lady Margaret's cheek
For ofttimes she has kissed mine"
The first that he kissed was her rosy cheek
The next was her dimpled chin
The last of all was her clay-cold lips
That pierced his heart within
"Tear down, tear down those milk white sheets
They are made of silk so fine
Today they hang around Lady Margaret's corpse
And tomorrow they will hang around mine"
Lady Margaret died of pure, pure love
Sweet William died of sorrow
They are buried in one burying ground
Both side and side together
Out of her grave grew a red rose
And out of his a briar
They grew in a twining true lover's knot
The rose and the green briar
Child #74
Printed in Folksongs of the South by Cox
versions recorded by Hedy West, Buffy Ste. Marie, Sally Rogers
filename[ LADYMARG
Harris and the Mare
By: Stan Rodgers
Harris, my old friend, good to see your face again
More welcome, though, yon trap and that old mare
For the wife is in a swoon, and I am all alone
Harris, fetch thy mare and take us home
The wife and I came o
ut for a quiet glass of stout
And a word or two with neighbors in the room
But young Clary, he came in, as drunk and wild as sin
And swore the wife would leave the place with him
But the wife as quick as thought said, "No, I'll bloody not"
Then struc
k the brute a blow about the head
He raised his ugly paw, and he lashed her on the jaw
And she fell onto the floor like she were dead
Now Harris, well you know, I've never struck an angry blow
Nor would I keep a friend who raised his hand
I was a con
scie in the war, cryin' what the hell's this for?
But I had to see his blood to be a man
I grabbed him by his coat, spun him 'round and took his throat
And beat his head upon the parlor door
He dragged out an awful knife, and he roared "I'll have your
life"
And he stuck me and I fell onto the floor
Now blood I was from neck to thigh, bloody murder in his eye
As he shouted out "I'll finish you for sure"
But as the knife came down, I lashed out from the ground
And the knife was in his breast and he
rolled o'er
Now with the wife as cold as clay I carried her away
No hand was raised to help us through the door
And I've brought her half a mile, but I've had to rest a while
And none of them I'll call a friend no more
For when the knife came down,
I was helpless on the ground
No neighbor stayed his hand, I was alone
By God, I was a man, but now I cannot stand
Please, Harris, fetch thy mare, take us home
Oh, Harris, fetch thy mare, and take us out of here
In my nine and fifty years I've never
known
That to call myself a man, for my loved one I must stand
[This piece is for all of you who've sat in the bars and watched it all happen
- another one of the reasons Stan didn't like performing in very many bars.]
That one behind you on the padded velvet throne,
Don't turn around! You've seen that kind before.
Wolves hang around here and they hunt the woods alone,
Waiting for hearts to wander through the door.
This bar has changed now that the hunter's hunted too.
Who is the prey, and who is the hungry mouth?
Go talk with strangers, only nothing said is true.
It's, "Who do you know?" and "When did you last fly south?"
And it's drink bought to catch the eye and make intentions known,
The kind they would never buy if they meant to drink alone.
And it's soft words that make the play in warm and winning tones,
The kind words they'd never say if they dared to sleep alone.
But like you, I'm fascinated by the glitter of the flame,
Watching wolves steal half of a heart away.
GARNETT'S HOMEMADE BEER
1. Oh the year was nineteen seventy-eight,
(How I wish I'd never tried it now,)
When a score of men were turned quite green
By the scummiest ale you've ever seen
Chorus:
God damn them all,
I was told this beer was worth its weight in gold
We'd feel no pain, shed no tears,
But it's a foolish man who shows no fear
At a glass of Garnett's homemade beer.
2. Now Garnett Rogers cried the town
(how I wish I'd never tried it now,)
For 20 brave men all masochists who
Would taste for him his homemade brew.
3. This motley crew were a sickening sight
(how I wish I'd never tried it now,)
There was caveman Dave with his eyes in bags
He'd a hard-boiled liver and the staggers and jags.
4. We hadn't been there but an hour or two
(how I wish I'd never tried it now,)
When a voice said "Give me some homemade brew"
As steeleyed Stan hove into view.
5. Now steeleyed Stand was a frightening man
(how I wish I'd never tried it now,)
He was eight foot tall and four foot wide
Said "pass that jug or I'll tan your hide.
6. Stan took one sip and pitched on his side
(how I wish I'd never tried it now,)
Garnett was smashed with a cupful of drugs
And his breath set fire to both me legs.
7. Now here I am with my 23rd beer
(how I wish I'd never tried it now,)
It's six long years since I felt this way
On the night before my wedding day.
see also BARTPRIV
filename[ GARNTBR
play.exe BARTPRIV
FOGARTY'S COVE - stan rogers 1976
We just lost sight of the Queensport light down the bay before us
And the wind has blown some cold today with just a wee touch of snow
Along the shore from Lazy Head hard abeam Half Island
Tonight we'll let the anchor go down in Fogarty's Cove
My Sally's like the ravens wing her hair is like her mothers'
With hands that make quick work of a chore and eyes like the top of a
stove
Come suppertime she'll walk the beach wrapped in my old duffle
With her eyes upon the masthead reach down in Fogarty's Cove
Cho: She will walk the sandy shore so plain Watch the comber's roll in
'Till I come to Wild Rose Chance again down in Fogarty's Cove
She will walk the sandy shore so plain watch the comber's roll in
'Till I come to Wild Rose Chance again down in Fogarty's Cove
She cries when I'm away to sea nags me when I'm with her
She'd rather I'd a Government job or maybe go on the dole.
But I love the waves as I pull about, nose into the channel
My Sally keeps the supper and a bed for me down in Fogarty's Cove.
[Hockey invades every household in Canada on some level. It is our National
sport. Real afficionados play all year long. This is probably why first time
visitors to this country show up with their skates in July! Competition is
severe in the Junior leagues. Once every several years we get one like
Gretzky. Flying is an allegory - it is also the very real story of a third
round hopeful who once coached Gretsky and now coaches little leaguers and
sells saunas.]
It was just like strapping 'em on and starting again,
Coaching these kids to the top, and calling them men.
I was a third round pick in the NHL
And that's three years of living in hell,
And going up flying, and going home dying.
My life was over the boards and playing the game,
And every day checking the papers and finding my name.
My dad would go crazy when the scouts would call;
He'd tell me that I'd have it all
Ninety nine of us trying, only one of us flying.
And every kid over the boards listens for the sound;
The roar of the crowd is their ticket for finally leaving this town
To be just one more hopeful in the Junior A,
Dreaming of that miracle play,
And going up flying, going home dying.
I tell them to think of the play and not of the fame.
If they've got any future at all, it's not in the game.
'Cause they'll be crippled and starting all over again
Selling on commissions and remembering
When they were flying, remembering dying.
And every kid over the boards listens for the sound;
The roar of the crowd is their ticket for finally leaving this town
To be just one more hopeful in the Junior A,
Dreaming of that miracle play,
CAPE ST.MARY'S
Take me back to my western boat
Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's
Where the hog-down sail
And the Fog horns wail
With my friends the Browns and the Clearys
Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's
Let me feel my dory lift
To the broad Atlantic combers
Where the tide rip swirls
And the wild ducks whirl
And old Neptune calls the numbers.
'Neath the wild Atlantic combers
Let me sail up Golden Bay
With my oilskins all a-streaming
From the thunder squalls when I hauled my trawls.
And my old Cape Ann a-gleaming
With my oilskins all a-streaming.
And let me view that ragged shore
With the beaches all a-glisten
With the caplin spawn
Where from dusk till dawn
You bait your trawn, and you listen
To the undertow a-hissin'.
And when I reach that last big shoal
Where the groundswells break asunder,
Where the wild sands roll to the surge's toll
Let me be a man and take it
When my dory fails to make it.
Oh take me back to that snug green cove
Where the seas roll up their thunder
There let me rest
In the Earth's cool breast
Where the stars shine out their wonder
And the seas roll up their thunder.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Written by Otto P. Kelland, Quality Music, Inc., PROC.
Recorded by Stan Rogers in 1982 on For the Family, Folk
Traditions, R002.
filename[ CAPSTMAR
BARRETT'S PRIVATEERS
by Stan Rogers
Oh, the year was 1778, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW!
A letter of marque come from the king,
To the scummiest vessel I'd ever seen,
CHORUS:
God damn them all!
I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold
We'd fire no guns-shed no tears
Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier
The last of Barrett's Privateers.
Oh, Elcid Barrett cried the town, HOW I WISH I WAS . . .
For twenty brave men all fishermen who
would make for him the Antelope's crew
(chorus)
The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight,
She'd a list to the port and and her sails in rags
And the cook in scuppers with the staggers and the jags
(chorus)
On the King's birthday we put to sea,
We were 91 days to Montego Bay
Pumping like madmen all the way
(chorus)
On the 96th day we sailed again,
When a bloody great Yankee hove in sight
With our cracked four pounders we made to fight
(chorus)
The Yankee lay low down with gold,
She was broad and fat and loose in the stays
But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days
(chorus)
Then at length we stood two cables away,
Our cracked four pounders made an awful din
But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in
(chorus)
The Antelope shook and pitched on her side,
Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs
And the Maintruck carried off both me legs
(chorus)
So here I lay in my 23rd year,
It's been 6 years since we sailed away
And I just made Halifax yesterday
(chorus)
Extracted from /pub/music/lyrics/files/misc.folk/songs.txt
So it's come to the alley
And playing in bars
Coming on to the hustlers
And the old bunt out stars
With the demons on my shoulders
Smiling to show me the way
Now there's one for ambition
And another for greed
Ah here's a big one,
He's a drunkerd,
And the easiest to feed
It takes a poor man to ignore them
A rich man to drive them away
Chorus:
No more thinking
no thinking
I don't dare care anyway
I can't find an answer
I look for one anywhere
I keep my head down
keep my head down
Smile when they sell me
I'll play where they tell me
I'll Try Like the Devil
to keep the demons away
Now it's so tantalizing
The still smell of success
And the demon keeps me singing
And he won't let me rest
Oh someone
Won't you listen
And help drive the demons away
Wooo...
No more thinking
no thinking
I don't dare care anyway
I can't find an answer
I look for one anywhere
I keep my head down
keep my head down
And smile when they sell me
I'll play where they tell me
And I'll Try Like the Devil
To keep the demons away
Woooooo
Try like the devil
Deep and dark are my true love's eyes
Blacker still is the winter's turning
As the sadness of parting proves
And brighter now is the lantern burning
That lightens my path to love
No fiddle tune will take the air
But I see her swift feet a - dancing
And the swirl of her long black hair
Her smiling face and her dark eyes glancing
As we stepped out Blinkbonny Fair
And if my waiting prove in vain
Then I will pack and track ever take me
And the long road will ease my pain
No gem of woman kind will make me
E'er whisper love's words again
For in drink I'll seek good company
My ears will ring with the tavern's laughter
And I'll hear not her last sweet sighs
Then who's to know in the morning after
Bits and pieces you offered
Of your life; I didn't think they meant a lot,
Or said much for you.
And all the chances to follow
Didn't make a lot of sense when stacked against
The choices you made.
For yours was the open road,
The bitter song, the heavy load
That I couldn't share
Though the offer was there
Every time you turned around.
Now, it's not like you made out
To hang around, although you know I made some sounds
To show that I cared.
And when it looked like you heard the call
I didn't say a lot, although I could've said
Much more, had I dared.
But yours was the open road,
The bitter song, the heavy load
That I couldn't share
Though the offer was there
Every time you turned around.
And if I had followed
A little ways, because we're friends you would have made me
Welcome out there.
But we both know it's just as well,
'Cause some can go, but some are meant to stay behind,
And it's always that way.
And yours is the open road,
The bitter song, the heavy load
That I'll never share,
Though the offer's still there
Every time you turn around.
And yours is the open road,
The bitter song, the heavy load
That I'll never share,
Though the offer's still there
How early is "Beginning"? From when is there a soul?
Do we discover living, or, somehow, are we told?
In sudden pain, in empty cold, in blinding light of day
We're given breath, and it takes our breath away.
How cruel to be unformed fancy, the way in which we come -
Over-whelmed by feeling and sudden loss of love
And what price dark confining pain, (the hardest to forgive)
When all at once, we're called upon to live.
By a giant hand we're taken from the shelter of the womb
That dreaded first horizon, the endless empty room
Where communion is lost forever, when a heart first beats alone
Still, it remembers, no matter how its grown.
We grow, but grow apart -
We live, but more alone -
The more to see, the more to see,
To cry aloud that we are free
To hide our ancient fear of being alone.
And how we live in darkness, embracing spiteful cold
Refusing any answers, for no man can be told
That delivery is delayed until at last we're made aware
Well it's blackfish at play in Hermitage Bay
From Pushthrough across to Bois Island.
They broach and they sprout and they lift their flukes out
And they wave to a town that is dying.
Now it's many's the boats that have plied on the foam,
Hauling away! Hauling away!
But there's many more fellows been leaving their homes,
Where whales make free in the harbour.
It's at Portage and Main you'll see them again
On their way to the hills of Alberta.
With lop-side grins, they waggle their chins
And they brag of the wage they'll be earning.
Then it's quick, pull the string boys, and get the loot out,
Haul it away! Haul it away!
But just two years ago you could hear the same shout
Where the whales make free in the harbour.
Free in the harbour; the blackfish are sporting again
Free in the harbour; untroubled by comings and goings of men
Who once did persue them as oil from the sea,
Hauling away! Hauling away!
Now they're Calgary roughnecks from Hermitage Bay,
Where the whales make free in the harbour.
Well, it's living they've found, deep in the ground,
And if there's doubts, it's best they ignore them.
Nor think on the bones, the crosses and stones
Of their fathers that came there before them.
In the taverns of Edmonton, fishermen shout
Haul it away! Haul it away!
They left three hundred years buried up the Bay
Where the whales make free in the harbour.
Free in the harbour; the blackfish are sporting again
Free in the harbour; untroubled by comings and goings of men
Who once did persue them as oil from the sea,
Hauling away! Hauling away!
Now they're Calgary roughnecks from Hermitage Bay,
Well you could see it in his eyes as they strained against the night,
And the bone-white-knuckled grip upon the road,
Sixty-five miles into town, and a winter's thirst to drown,
A winter still with two months left to go.
His eyes are too far open, his grin too hard and sore,
His shoulders too far high to bring relief,
But the Kopper King is hot, even if the band is not,
And it sure beats shooting whiskey-jacks and trees.
Then he laughs and says "It didn't get me this time, not tonight,
I wasn't screaming when I hit the door."
But his hands on the tabletop, will their shaking never stop,
Those hands sweep the bottles to the floor.
Now he's a bear in a blood-red mackinaw with hungry dogs at bay,
And springtime thunder in his sudden roar,
With one wrong word he burns, and the table's overturned,
When he's finished there's a dead man on the floor.
Well they watched for him in Carmacks, Haines, and Carcross,
With Teslin blocked there's nowhere else to go,
But he hit the four-wheel-drive in Johnson's Crossing,
Now he's thirty-eight miles up the Canol road.
He's thirty-eight miles up the Canol road,
In the Salmon Range at forty-eight below...
Well it's God's own neon green above the mountains here tonight,
Throwing brittle coloured shadows on the snow,
It's four more hours til dawn, and the gas is almost gone,
And that bitter Yukon wind begins to blow.
Now you can see it in his eyes as they glitter in the light
And the bone-white rime of frost around his brow,
Too late the dawn has come, that Yukon winter has won,
And he's got his cure for cabin fever now.
Well they watched for him in Carmacks, Haines, and Carcross,
With Teslin blocked there's nowhere else to go,
But they hit the four-wheel-drive in Johnson's Crossing,
Found him thirty-eight miles up the Canol road.
They found him thirty-eight miles up the Canol road,
In the Salmon Range at forty-eight below,
Now there's no train to Guysborough,
Or so the man said,
So it might be a good place to be...
I sit in this station,
And I count up my change,
And I wait for the Guysborough train...
Now I've sat in your kitchens,
And talked about walls,
And I've sung about your withering pain,
Shattered your temples,
And I've brought on your fall,
Now I wait for the Guysborough train...
CHR: And I ride for all time, on the Guysborough line,
And I grow by the North Country rain,
And the North Shore's begun, the man I've become,
In rags, on the Guysborough train...
No train to Guysborough
Now ain't that a shame,
Though I know there will be one in time,
And the house that's alone,
It soon will be gone,
Razed for the Guysborough line
CHR: And I ride for all time, on the Guysborough line,
And I grow by the North Country rain,
And the North Shore's begun, the man I've become,
In rags, on the Guysborough train...
People are simple,
Like the rain clouds sweet,
Both grown by that North Country rain,
The Interval is clear,
Will it soon disappear,
Under the Guysborough train?
CHR: And I ride for all time, on the Guysborough line,
And I grow by the North Country rain,
And the North Shore's begun, the man I've become,
This day a year ago, he was rolling in the snow
With a younger brother in his father's yard
Christmas break, a time for touching home,
The heart of all he'd known
And leaving was so hard
Three thousand miles away,
Now he's working Christmas Day
Making double time for the minding of the store
Well he always said, he'd make it on his own
He's spending Christmas Eve alone
First Christmas away from home
She's standing by the train station,
Pan-handling for change
Four more dollars buys a decent meal and a room
Looks like the Sally Ann place after all,
In a crowded sleeping hall
That echoes like a tomb
But it's warm and clean and free,
And there are worse places to be
At least it means no beating from her Dad
And if she cries because it's Christmas Day
She hopes that it won't show
First Christmas away from home
In the apartment stands a tree,
And it looks so small and bare
Not like it was meant to be,
Golden angel on the top
It's not that same old silver star,
You wanted for your own
First Christmas away from home
In the morning, they get prayers,
Then it's crafts and tea downstairs
Then another meal back in his little room
Hoping maybe that "the boys"
Will think to phone before the day is gone
Well, it's best they do it soon
When the "old girl" passed away,
He fell apart more every day
Each had always kept the other pretty well
But the kids all said the nursing home was best
Cause he couldn't live alone
First Christmas away from home
In the common room they've got the biggest tree
And it's huge and cold and lifeless
Not like it ought to be,
And the lit-up flashing Santa Claus on top
It's not that same old silver star,
You once made for your own
I thought I heard the old man say,
"Leave her, Johnny, leave her,
It's a long, hard pull to the next payday
And it's time for us to leave her".
Chorus:
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her,
For the voyage is done and the winds don't blow,
And it's time for us to leave her!
Oh, the winds were foul and the work was hard,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
From the Liverpool dock to the London yard
And it's time for us to leave her.
Chorus:
Oh, the skipper was bad, but the mate was worse.
Leave her, Johnny, leave her
He'd blow you down with a spike and a curse,
And it's time for us to leave her.
Chorus:
It was rotten meat and moldy bread,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her!
You'd eat it or you'd starve to death,
And it's time for us to leave her.
Chorus:
Well it's time for us to say goodbye,
Leave her, Johnny, leave her,
For now those pumps are all pumped dry,
And it's time for us to leave her.
Forty-four's no age to start again,
But the bulls were getting tough and he was never free of pain
Where others blew their winnings getting tanked,
Most of his got banked saving for the farm.
He never thought she'd wait for him at all.
She wanted more than broken bones and trophies on the wall;
But when he quit and finally got the farm,
She ran into his arms and now they've got a kid.
He was star of all the rodeos but now thet rob him blind.
It took eighteen years of Brahma bulls and life on the line
To get his spread and a decent herd,
But now he spends his time pulling night guard.
He told her that he'd got it for the game,
A "Winnie" 303 with his initials on the frame
Riding in the scabbard at his knee. Tonight he's gonna see
Who's getting all the stock.
Seventh one this summer yesterday;
Half a year of profits gone, and now there's hell to pay.
The cops say they know who, but there's no proof.
The banker hit the roof, and damn near took the car.
He was star of all the rodeos but now thet rob him blind.
It took eighteen years of Brahma bulls and life on the line
To get his spread and a decent herd,
But now he spends his time pulling night guard.
He hears the wire popping by the road;
Sees the blacked out Reo coming for another load.
This time, it's not one they take but two;
Two minutes and they're through, and laughing in the cab.
And here'll be the end of this tonight,
'Cause all the proof he needs is lying sready in his sights.
It may be just the worst thing he could do
But he squeezes off a few, then make his call to town.
He was star of all the rodeos but now thet rob him blind.
It took eighteen years of Brahma bulls and life on the line
To get his spread and a decent herd,
We were drinking down to Reedy's house
When first we heard the blow
It seemed to come from Ripper Rock
So boldly forth to go
And sure enough the rusty tub
Could just be barely seen
As her stern was high up in the air
We made out Athens Queen
O, the lovely Athens Queen
Me boys I must remind you
There's a bottle left inside
So let us go and have a few
And wait until low tide
And if the sea's not claimed her
When the glasses are licked clean
We will then set forth some dories lads
And see what may be seen
On the lovely Athens Queen
Some songs and old tall stories then
Came out to pass the time
Nor could a single bottle
Keep us all until low tide
And so it was before we left
The house we were at sea
So we scarcely can remember
How we made the Athens Queen
O, the lovely Athens Queen
O the waves inside me belly
Were as high as those outside
And though I'm never seasick I
lost dinner overside
T'was well there was no crew to save
For we'd have scared 'em green
We could scarcely keep ourselves
From falling off the Athens Queen
O, the lovely Athens Queen
Well Reedy goes straight down below
And comes up with a cow
Hello I said now what would you
Be wantin' with that now
You'll never take the cow home
In a dory on such sea
Well me friend he says I've always fancied
Fresh cream in me tea
For the lovely Athens Queen
I headed for the galley then
Cause I was rather dry
And glad I was to get there quick
For what should I spy
O what a shame it would have been
For to lose it all at sea
Forty cases of the best Napolean
Brandy ever seen
On the lovely Athens Queen
I loaded twenty cases boys
Then headed for the shore
Unloaded them as quick as that
And then pulled back for more
Smith was pullin' for the shore
But he could scarce be seen
Under near two hundred chickens
And a leather couch of green
From the lovely Athens Queen
So here's to all good salvagers
Likewise to Ripper Rock
And to Napolean brandy of which
Now we have much stock
We eat a lot of chicken
And sit on a couch of green
And we wait for Ripper Rock
To claim another Athens Queen
It's early up Ontario farm, Chicken crow for day
I wish I grew Annapolis apples up above Fundy Bay
Oh it seems so far away
On the ridge above Acadia's town to the valley down below
The evening shadow falls upon the families listening to the radio
And watching the apples grow.
(CHORUS)
Down on the farm, back among the family, away from Ontario
Hear the ladies singing to the men, dancing it heel and toe
And watching the apples grow.
Ontario, y'know I've seen a place I'd rather be
Your scummy lakes and the City of Toronto don't do a damn thing for me
I'd rather live by the sea.
I've watched the V's of geese go by, the foxfoot in the snow
I've climbed the ridge of Gaspereaux Mt., looking to the valley below
And watching the apples grow.
It was in the spring this year of grace
With new life pushing through
That I looked from the citadel down to the narrows and asked what it's coming to
I saw Upper-Canadian concrete and glass
right down to the water line
I have heard an old song down on Fisherman's Wharf
Can I sing it just one time
With half-closed eyes against the sun
for the warm wind giving thanks
I dreamed of the years of the deep laden schooners splashing home from the Grand Banks
The last lies done in the harbor sun
With her picture on a dime
But I heard an old song down on Fisherman's Wharf
Can I sing it just one time
Can I sing it just one time
CHORUS:
And haul away and heave her home
This song is heard no more
No boats to sing it for
No sailors to sing it for
There rises now a single tide of tourists passing through
We traded old ways for the new
Old ways for the new
Old ways for the new, for the new
Now you ask "What's this romantic boy,
Who laments what's done and gone?"
There was no romance on a cold winter ocean and the gale sang an awful song
But my fathers knew of wind and tide, and my blood is maritime
And I heard an old song down on Fisherman's Wharf
Can I sing it just one time
CHORUS
Uncle Emile, he's gone now nearly ten days
He tole his wife's he's gone for the fishing
But in the waters off St. Pierre and Miquelon Isles
The fish come in bottles of gold
If the Anne-Marie floats and the Mounties stay blind
He'll be back before the moon is rising
With a very fine catch all safe in the hold
Thirty cases of Trinidad light
For Acadian Saturday night.
Emmeline Comeau works the general store
Papa says she's good for the custom
She's go eyes like fire and hair past her shoulders
As shiny black as ant'racite coal
You can see her Sunday morning on the St Phillipe road
Her mother close behind like a dragon
But her mama doesn't know what she does behind the hall
Away from the music and lights
On Acadian Saturday night.
(Chorus:)
Oh - don't the fiddles make you roll
'Til your heart she pounds like a hammer
There's a fat lady beating her piano like a drum
And everybody's higher than a kite
On Acadian Saturday night.
Granpa says it was better in his day
The Mounties stayed away from the parties
And he didn't mind a fight when the spirits got high
(You could always throw them out in the snow)
And the rum was better and it came in bigger bottles
And the revenue cutters were slow -
Still, the old Anne-Marie has wings on the water
And there's nothing like Trinidad light
Attend you all good countrymen, my name is Billy Green,
And I will tell of things I did when I was just nineteen.
I helped defeat the Yank invader, there can be no doubt,
Yet lately men forget the name of Billy Green, the Scout.
'Twas on a Sunday morn' in June when first we heard the sound,
Three thousand Yankees on the road to camp below Greentown,
Two Generals, Artillery and Company of horse,
With many rank and file afoot, they were a mighty force.
Says I to brother Levi, "Well, we still can have some fun!
We'll creep and whoop like Indians to try to make them run!"
Which then we did both loud and long, much to the Yanks' dismay.
They fired their 'pop-gun' muskets once and then they ran away.
Well, first they plundered Stoney Creek and then John Gage's farm.
They cut his fences for their fires although the day was warm.
They bound my brother Isaac up and took him from his home;
They pillaged all the countryside, no mercy there was shown.
Then says I to myself, "Now Billy, this will never do.
Those scurvy Yanks are not the match for Loyalists like you".
My brother's horse I quickly caught and put him to a run,
And reached the British camp upon the heights of Burlington.
Says I to Colonel Harvey, "Now, let there be no delay,
If we're to reach the Yankee camp before the break of day.
I'll take you through the woods by night where I know every tree,
And ere the dawn you surely can surprise the enemy."
With men and guns we then set forth the enemy to seek,
Across the beach at Burlington and then to Red Hill Creek;
We came upon their sentries; we surprised them every one.
One died upon my sword, and all the others off they run.
And so it was we were in place one hour before dawn.
We fired three times upon the camp and then we marched along.
We fired again and charged as Colonel Harvey gave the word,
And put the enemy to fight with bayonet and sword.
With great confusion in the camp, two Generals were caught.
The Colonel and his men made their artillery as naught.
We killed over two hundred and we captured all the rest;
Nor did we lose but eighty men; of them we had the best.
And so it was I played the man though I was but nineteen.
I led our forces through the night that this land would be free.
I foiled the Yank invaders and I helped put them to route,
Cold wind on the harbour and rain on the road
Wet promise of winter brings recourse to coal
There's fire in the blood and a fog on Bras d'Or
The giant will rise with the moon.
'Twas the same ancient fever in the Isles of the Blest
That our fathers brought with them when they "went West"
It's the blood of the Druids that never will rest
The giant will rise with the moon.
So crash the glass down! move with the tide!
Young friends and old whiskey are burning inside.
Crash the glass down! Fingal will rise
With the moon.
In inclement weather the people are fey
Three thousand year stories as the night slips away
Remembering Fingal feels not far away
The giant will rise with the moon.
The wind's in the north, there be new moon tonight
And we have no circle to dance in it's sight
So light a torch, bring bring the bottle and build the fire bright
They neither know of night or day,
They night and day pour out their thunder,
As every ingot rolls away,
A dozen more are split asunder.
There is a sign beside the gate,
"Eleven Days" since a man lay dying,
Now every shift brings fear and hate
And shaken men in terror crying.
The molten rivers boil away,
A fiery brew hell never equaled.
To their profits the bosses pray,
And Mammon sings in his grim cathedral.
His attendants join the choir,
And heaven help us if we're shirking,
Stoke the furnace-altar fire,
And just be thankful that we're working!
Do this, then, charge the hoppers high
Lest you endure the foreman's choler,
Do this, then, drain the tankards dry,
And let us toast the almighty dollar,
That keeps us chained here before the fire
Where heat and noise set the weak a-quaking.
At the siren's infernal cry,
The open hearth sets the ground to shaking.
Do this, then, raise the babies high
And make them shriek with love and laughter!
Do this, then, kiss your woman's eyes
And raise a song unto the rafters!
Wash the steel mill from your hair,
Heap the table 'til it's breaking,
'Nor let terror enter there
I can almost hear some of you say,
"You'd think he'd have more sense at his age,
The crazy old man in the old tam-o-shanter's
Getting carried away."
Sometimes it's almost too much to stand,
But it's not my place to take you in hand.
It used to be a man and his madness
Were as sacred as the coming of day.
It's strange how things will stick in the mind.
You'd think the years would leave them behind,
But long ago moments as a winner
Kind of push the recent memories aside.
Symptomatic, you say, of old age,
But it's something that nobody can gage.
It may be that I've sorted out the memories I can keep
And thrown the others away.
There's some who would say, "Just let him sit and decay",
But I really can't believe that it's true.
There's bits of yourself you always have to live up to
If only for a moment or two!
There's little time to spend sitting down,
When feeling good means moving around,
And I can't be blamed if I remember my name
And why it made me so proud.
There's some who would say, "Just let him sit and decay",
But I really can't believe that it's true!
There's bits of yourself you always have to live up to,
If only for a moment or two!
At my age I do as I choose,
And shouldn't need to make an excuse.
I know that you all feel a little famous inside
And I'm no different than you.
I know that you all feel a little famous inside,
Tom Finch turned to the waitress and said, "Bring me another Alpine.
I'll have one more before I go to tell Marie the news.
Well boys, we're for it this time. The plant is closed for good.
Regan broke his promise, and we're through.
We're working men with no work left to do.
I always thought I'd have a boat, just like my dad before me.
You don't get rich, but with the boats you always could make do.
But the boats gave way to trawlers, and packing turned to meal.
Now that's all gone, and we're all for the dole.
And the thought of that puts irons in my soul."
Tom Finch stood up and said good-bye with handshakes all around.
Faces he'd grown up among, now with their eyes cast down.
Slow foot along familiar road to the hills above the harbour.
With a passing thought, "Now all this is through
And I wonder how Marie will take the news."
The house had been so much of her, though it had hardly been a year.
She's done his father's house so proud, and held it all so dear.
But there was hot tea on the table when Tom came through the door.
And before he spoke, she smiled and said, "I know.
The plant is gone. Now how soon do we go?"
"We won't take a cent. They can stuff all their money. We've put a little by.
And thank God we've got no kids as yet, or I think I'd want to die.
We Finches have been in this part of the world for near 200 years,
The worn-down shacks of labour past on a hill of broken stone
Once brought by men to the stamping mills to brush away the gold
But before it could pass to their sons, the glory left the hole
The Rawdon Hills once were touched by gold
The grandsons of the mining men scratch the fields among the trees
When the gold played out, they were all turned out with granite-dusted knees
But at night around the stove, sometimes the stories still unfold
The Rawdon Hills once were touched by gold
Grandson of the mining men, you'll see it in your dreams
Beneath your father's bones still lies the undiscovered seam
Of quartzite in a serpentine vein that marks the greatest yield
And along the Midland Railway, it's still told
How the Rawdon Hills once were touched by gold
Eighty years has been and gone since there was colour in the hole
And the care-worn shades of the hard rock men surround the old Cope Lode
And through the tiny hillside farms, the mines tales grow old
The Rawdon Hills once were touched by gold
Where the earth shows its bones of wind-broken stone
And the sea and the sky are one
I'm caught out of time, my blood sings with wine
And I'm running naked in the sun
There's God in the trees, I'm weak in the knees
And the sky is a painful blue
I'd like to look around, but Honey, all I see is you.
The summer city lights will soften the night
Til you'd think that the air is clear
And I'm sitting with friends, where forty-five cents
Will buy another glass of beer
He's got something to say, but I'm so far away
That I don't know who I'm talking to
Cause you just walked in the door, and Honey, all I see is you
And I just want to hold you closer than I've ever held anyone before
You say you've been twice a wife and you're through with life
Ah, but Honey, what the hell's it for?
After twenty-three years you'd think I could find
A way to let you know somehow
That I want to see your smiling face forty-five years from now.
So alone in the lights on stage every night
I've been reaching out to find a friend
Who knows all the words, sings so she's heard
And knows how all the stories end
Maybe after the show she'll ask me to go
Home with her for a drink or two
Now her smile lights her eyes, but Honey, all I see is you
And I just want to hold you closer than I've ever held anyone before
You say you've been twice a wife and you're through with life
Ah, but Honey, what the hell's it for?
After twenty-three years you'd think I could find
A way to let you know somehow
That I want to see your smiling face forty-five years from now.
And I just want to hold you closer than I've ever held anyone before
You say you've been twice a wife and you're through with life
Ah, but Honey, what the hell's it for?
After twenty-three years you'd think I could find
A way to let you know somehow
You can't stay here.
Your company's good, I know
But I must wake up alone.
And the party is over.
You can't stay here.
I'm moments away from sleep.
And what you want to say can keep
Til I'm awake and I'm... sober.
You can't stay here
When everyone else has gone.
I've nothing for you,
No song to sing for you only.
You can't stay here
Maybe you can't see why
But I'm an old-fashioned guy
And I'd rather be... lonely.
Maybe you think I'm unkind when I tell you to go away
I know what you offer, and I could be softer
And tell you to stay.
But to me, you're a stranger, to touch you is danger, I know it's true.
'Cause what I've got at home is too dear, to risk for an hour with you.
You can't stay here.
I'll be all right alone.
And when I'm safe in her arms at home...
I'll thank you for leaving.
You can't stay here.
You can't stay here.
Once again with the tide she slips her lines
Turns her head and comes awake
Where she lay so still there at Privateer's Wharf
Now she quickly gathers way
She will range far south from the harbour mouth
And rejoice with every wave
Who will know the Bluenose in the sun
Feel her bow rise free of Mother Sea
In a sunburst cloud of spray
That stings the cheek while the rigging will speak
Of sea-miles gone away
She is always best under full press
Hard over as she'll lay
And who will know the Bluenose in the sun? (x2)
That proud, fast Queen of the Grand Banks Fleet
Portrayed on every dime
Knew hard work in her time... hard work in every line
The rich men's toys of the Gloucester boys
With their token bit of cod
They snapped their spars and strained to pass her by
But she left them all behind
Now her namesake remains to show what she has been
What every schoolboy remembers and will not come again
To think she's the last of the Grand Banks Schooners
That fed so many men
And who will know the Bluenose in the sun? (x2)
So does she not take wing like a living thing
Child of the moving tide?
See her pass with grace on the water's face
With clean and quiet pride
Our own tall ship of great renown still lifts unto the sky
Who will know the Bluenose in the sun? (x3)
Where the earth shows its bones of wind-broken stone
And the sea and the sky are one
I'm caught out of time, my blood sings with wine
And I'm running naked in the sun
There's God in the trees, I'm weak in the knees
And the sky is a painful blue
I'd like to look around, but Honey, all I see is you.
The summer city lights will soften the night
Til you'd think that the air is clear
And I'm sitting with friends, where forty-five cents
Will buy another glass of beer
He's got something to say, but I'm so far away
That I don't know who I'm talking to
Cause you just walked in the door, and Honey, all I see is you
(CHORUS)
And I just want to hold you closer than I've ever held anyone before
You say you've been twice a wife and you're through with life
Ah, but Honey, what the hell's it for?
After twenty-three years you'd think I could find
A way to let you know somehow
That I want to see your smiling face forty-five years from now.
So alone in the lights on stage every night
I've been reaching out to find a friend
Who knows all the words, sings so she's heard
And knows how all the stories end
Maybe after the show she'll ask me to go
Home with her for a drink or two
Now her smile lights her eyes, but Honey, all I see is you
(CHORUS 1)
It's acrimony down in the card room
With winning hands thrown on the baize;
Forgotten cards wait on the end of debate
On the good old days.
Captains and mates getting testy
With memories not of the best
And tempers are flying
Down at the Sailor's Rest.
Blue eyes in wrinkled Morocco
Still search the horizon for squalls,
And Zeros in the sky and the watchkeeper's eye
And the pawn shop balls.
The spice in the wind off Java
And the bars in Papity were best,
But the deck is too steady
Down at the Sailor's Rest.
(Chorus 2)
And oh... how they talk of the day they arrived;
When after the years, all the storms and the tears,
Still very much alive.
And oh... how their lives were spilled out on the floor
From the battered old seabags, the journals and logs
And the keepsakes locked in the chests
That were stowed in the attic [sold at the auction]
Down at the Sailor's Rest.
No rail on the mess room table
And you're dead if you spit on the floor.
No grog allowed, no singing too loud,
And no locks on the doors;
But there's always a fire in the card room
And the tucker is always the best,
And they'll end it together
Down at the Sailor's Rest.
(CHORUS 2)
And oh... how they talked of the day they arrived...
Watch the field behind the plow turn to straight, dark rows
Feel the trickle in your clothes, blow the dust cake from your nose
Hear the tractor's steady roar, Oh you can't stop now
There's a quarter section more or less to go
And it figures that the rain keeps it's own sweet time
You can watch it come for miles, but you guess you've got a while
So ease the throttle out a hair, every rod's a gain
And there's victory in every quarter mile
Poor old Kuzyk down the road
The heartache, hail and hoppers brought him down
He gave it up and went to town
And Emmett Pierce the other day
Took a heart attack and died at forty two
You could see it coming on 'cause he worked as hard as you
In an hour, maybe more, you'll be wet clear through
The air is cooler now, pull you hat brim further down
And watch the field behind the plow turn to straight dark rows
Put another season's promise in the ground
And if the harvest's any good
The money just might cover all the loans
You've mortgaged all you own
Buy the kids a winter coat
Take the wife back east for Christmas if you can
All summer she hangs on when you're so tied to the land
For the good times come and go, but at least there's rain
So this won't be barren ground when September rolls around
So watch the field behind the plow turn to straight dark rows
Put another season's promise in the ground
Watch the field behind the plow turn to straight dark rows
I would have been here sooner,
Your note came yesterday,
But, yesterday was crazy;
There was much to square away.
Then I tried to come this morning,
But the old car wouldn't run
And the buses run so slowly,
There was nothing to be done.
But you, you don't need my troubles,
I'm here now, anyway,
And there's nothing left behind me
To say I cannot stay.
When I told you that I love you,
I said' "Call me anytime,
And especially when you need someone
When things get out of line"?
Chorus:
And oh, there's a burning in your eyes
And the hand you put in mine won't stop trembling.
Oh, tell me what you're going through,
'Cause all I want to do is be protecting.
No! All those shadows on your face,
They look so out of place, they should be sunlight.
I want to take you when the smile returns
And keep you from the night
And wake up to see me in your eyes.
I don't know how we happened,
When we're kept so far apart.
There sure are lots worse prisons
Than the kind with iron bars;
And it almost makes me crazy
To see you hurt inside,
When you're beautiful and really need
To let things open wide.
I often take these night shift walks
When the foreman's not around
I turn my back on the cooling stacks
And make for open ground
Far out beyond the tank-farm fence
Where the gas flare makes no sound
I forget the stink and I always think
Back to that Eastern town
Chorus:
So I bid farewell to the Eastern town
I never more will see
But work I must so I eat this dust
And breathe refinery
Oh I miss the green and the woods and streams
And I don't like cowboy clothes
But I like being free and that makes me
An idiot, I suppose.
I remember back six years ago
This western life I chose
And every day the news would say
Some factory's going to close
Well, I could have stayed to take the dole
But I'm not one of those.
I take nothing free, and that makes me,
An idiot, I suppose.
So come all you fine young fellows
Who've been beaten to the ground
This western life's no paradise,
But it's better than lying down.
Oh the streets aren't clean, and there's nothing green,
And the hills are dirty brown,
But the government dole will rot your soul
Back there in your home town.
So bid farewell to the Eastern town
You never more will see.
There's self-respect and a steady cheque
In this refinery.
You will miss the green and the woods and streams
And the dust will fill your nose.
But you'll be free, and just like me,
There is a young maiden, she lives all a-lone
She lived all a-lone on the shore-o
There's nothing she can find to comfort her mind
But to roam all a-lone on the shore, shore, shore
But to roam all a-lone on the shore
'Twas of the young Captain who sailed the salt sea
Let the wind blow high, blow low
I will die, I will die, the young Captain did cry
If I don't have that maid on the shore, shore, shore ...
I have lots of silver, I have lots of gold
I have lots of costly ware-o
I'll divide, I'll divide, with my jolly ship's cres
If they row me that maid on the shore, shore, shore ...
After much persuasion, they got her aboard
Let the wind blow high, blow low
They replaced her away in his cabin below
Here's adieu to all sorrow and care, care, care ...
They replaced her away in his cabin below
Let the wind blow high, blow low
She's so pretty and neat, she's so sweet and complete
She's sung Captain and sailors to sleep, sleep, sleep ...
Then she robbed him of silver, she robbed him of gold
She robbed him of costly ware-o
Then took his broadsword instead of an oar
And paddled her way to the shore, shore, shore ...
Me men must be crazy, me men must be mad
Me men must be deep in despair-o
For to let you away from my cabin so gay
And to paddle your way to the shore, shore, shore ...
Your men was not crazy, your men was not mad
Your men was not deep in despair-o
I deluded your sailors as well as yourself
Cold wind on the harbour and rain on the road
Wet promise of winter brings recourse to coal
There's fire in the blood and a fog on Bras d'Or
The giant will rise with the moon.
'Twas the same ancient fever in the Isles of the Blest
That our fathers brought with them when they "went West"
It's the blood of the Druids that never will rest
The giant will rise with the moon.
So crash the glass down! move with the tide!
Young friends and old whiskey are burning inside.
Crash the glass down! Fingal will rise
With the moon.
In inclement weather the people are fey
Three thousand year stories as the night slips away
Remembering Fingal feels not far away
The giant will rise with the moon.
The wind's in the north, there be new moon tonight
And we have no circle to dance in it's sight
So light a torch, bring bring the bottle and build the fire bright
I used to love these lazy winter afternoons;
Starting out too late giving up too soon;
Coming home to coffee and a trashy book;
Never paying any mind if things were never done on
Time was when a fella could just let time slip away;
No worries car or telephone just rent and food to pay;
And every night with single buddies boozing at the bar,
Living for the minute, taking every hour in it!
But now there's just too much to do in any given day;
The car phone the kiddies shoes too many bills to pay;
Running from the crack of dawn 'til Knowlton reads the news,
And falling into bed too wiped to even kiss the wife good night.
Oh, oh, oh... just another working Joe.
The baby's in the Swingomatic, singing Rock and Roll;
My Sweetie's in the kitchen, whipping up my favourite casserole.
I knocked off work at ten o'clock, the kids are still at school.
The coffee pot is perking... to hell with bloody working.
Oh, it sure is sweet to sit at home and let time slip away,
Through tomorrow I'll be scratching through another working day;
But when I start to come apart from all the things to do,
I know that I'll be taking soon another lazy winter afternoon.
Once again with the tide she slips her lines
Turns her head and comes awake
Where she lay so still there at Privateer's Wharf
Now she quickly gathers way
She will range far south from the harbour mouth
And rejoice with every wave
Who will know the Bluenose in the sun
Feel her bow rise free of Mother Sea
In a sunburst cloud of spray
That stings the cheek while the rigging will speak
Of sea-miles gone away
She is always best under full press
Hard over as she'll lay
And who will know the Bluenose in the sun?
That proud, fast Queen of the Grand Banks Fleet
Portrayed on every dime
Knew hard work in her time...hard work in every line
The rich men's toys of the Gloucester boys
With their token bit of cod
They snapped their spars and strained to pass her by
But she left them all behind
Now her namesake remains to show what she has been
What every schoolboy remembers and will not come again
To think she's the last of the Grand Banks Schooners
That fed so many men
And who will know the Bluenose in the sun?
So does she not take wing like a living thing
Child of the moving tide
See her pass with grace on the water's face
With clean and quiet pride
Our own tall ship of great renown still lifts unto the
We live in fear of no one to love us
Of feeling like an empty hole
With no kind heart or strengthening hand
To light the dark and secret soul.
Behind the walls of lonely protection
Afraid to give for what we may lose,
And to hide our sin, or let someone within,
Everyone will have to choose!
Chorus:
Put your life on the line,
Give your hand and pledge your time
To the love whose lips inflame you
Like some ancient and golden wine;
And to all it's a start in fulfilling greatest needs in part,
For in whatever we dream of what we some day want to be
It's a matter of heart.
We like to think we know what we're doing,
We always like to be in control.
The rational mind rules the passionate heart
Is what the ancient sages told.
But that can sound a little bit hollow,
When you're sitting by the fire alone!
And the rarest old wine tastes of ashes and brine,
When you've no one there to keep you warm.
Chorus:
The way in which our pride will stall us,
When we know we should be losing control,
Puts us in the fear of falling and we let it go!
Our careful words are self-deceiving,
Though we like to call them 'pretense' and 'art',
But every old line is held in the mind,
When it's really just a matter of heart.
Now here's a picture of me, writing you a love letter,
To make me feel better, 'cause I'm so far from home.
Now, it seems like forever since the last time I saw you,
And I'd sure like to call you 'cause I feel so alone.
Now, it's another cold city but the same old hotel room.
They all look the same to me after a while.
A bed and a window over some dirty alley,
Looking on to the streets meeting nobody's smile.
Now every telephone says, "Hold the line",
Like the preachers did when I was just a kid;
And it's strange how it still touches me after all this time.
They said, "Keep your light shining brightly".
And I just can't take it lightly; I'm still trying to find it.
Now, every evening brings another show,
To empty faces screaming over too much beer.
And what they find to talk about I guess I'll never, ever know.
But I'm leaving tomorrow and I don't regret it.
Just one more town and then I can forget?
It's a picture of me writing you a love letter,
To make me feel better 'cause I've been feeling low.
Hey, it seems like forever since the last time I saw you,
But it won't be much longer, now, look out, honey,
Come all ye lads, draw near to me, that I be not forsaken
This day was lost the Jeannie C. and my living has been taken
I'll go to sea no more
We set out his day in the bright sunrise, the same as any other
My son and I and old John Price in the boat named for my mother
I'll go to sea no more
Now it's well you know what the fishing has been, it's been scarce and hard and cruel
But this day, by God, we sure caught cod, and we sang and we laughed like fools
I'll go to sea no more
I'll never know what it was we struck, but strike we did like thunder
John Price give a cry and pitched overside. Now it's forever he's gone under
I'll go to sea no more
Now a leak we've sprung, let there be no delay if the Jeannie C. we're saving
John Price is drown'd and slip'd away. So I'll patch the hole while you're bailing
I'll go to sea no more
But no leak I found from bow to hold. No rock it was that got her
But what I found made me heart stop cold, for every seam poured water
I'll go to sea no more
My God, I cried as she went down. That boat was like no other
My father built her when I was nine, and named her for my mother
I'll go to sea no more
And sure I could have another made in the boat shop down in Dover
But I would not love the keel they laid like the one the waves roll over
I'll go to sea no more
So come all ye lads, draw near to me, that I be not forsaken
This day was lost the Jeannie C. and my whole life has been taken
There was an old woman in Woodbridge, there was,
So proper and tidy and all of them things,
She would wander all day with her duster in hand,
She was one of those women who clean where they stand,
And while she is at it she sings, boys!
And while she is at it she sings!
Now, there's no doubt about it, her house was a show,
With everything proper and stowed in it's place,
And that's why her dust-bins had a shed of their own,
Like a mirror each one of those bins it had grown!
You could read every line in your face, boys!
You could read every line in your face!
Now, there's nothing the matter with tidiness, no,
No matter with keeping your house up to scratch,
But these bins were located one side of a yard,
Where a Doberman Pincher was prowling on guard,
Trained to kill if you lifted the latch, boys!
Trained to kill if you lifted the latch!
Now, it's all very well to protect what is yours,
And it's better not leaving temptation around,
But a job on the "dust" is rewarding enough,
And there's nothing like taking the smooth with the rough,
To be savaged by some bloody hound, boys!
To be savaged by some bloody hound!
Now, this Doberman Pincher would play in the yard,
And a couple of old tennis balls as his game,
In his make-believe game, it's himself that he saw
As the world's only dog with a bionic jaw,
And that's when the garbage-man came, boys!
And that's when the garbage-man came!
Now, fate took a hand on this coldest of days,
For his wife, she had made him to wear a warm coat,
And to knot up his muffler to keep out the chill,
And for once in his life, he had bent to her will,
And the dog couldn't get at his throat, boys!
And the dog couldn't get at his throat!
Now, when the woman above was drawn to the noise,
It's down from a high chamber-window she calls
To the dust-man engaged in a struggle for life,
In a middle-class tone you could cut with a knife,
She loudly exclaimed, "Kick his balls, boys"!
She loudly exclaimed, "Kick his balls"!
Now, the dust-man could scarcely believe the command,
But he didn't have time to request it again,
So ignoring distinctions of language and class,
He unleashed a size ten at the Doberman's ass,
And it's eyes misted over with pain, boys!
And it's eyes misted over with pain!
Now, imagine the silence that followed that blow,
With the command ringing on in the poor dust-man's ears,
And as the poor doggie lay writhing around,
You could see the two tennis balls there on the ground,
And her meaning was rendered quite clear, boys!
And her meaning was rendered quite clear!
Now, I'd like to explain that this dog was "at stud",
And the dust-man was sued for the fees that he'd lost,
But it's lucky he was to escape with his life!
He went home with a kiss for his poor startled wife,
Who harranged him for what it might cost, boys!
Who harranged him for what it might cost!
Now, if there's a moral to be gained from this song,
It's that innocent language might sometimes sound crude,
And as in the case of the carpenter's mate,
Your linguistic enlightenment might arrive late,
And you could end up getting screwed, boys!
There used to be, a Pharisee,
Cynical and wise, telling rich ungodly lies,
Of humanity...
But in the market place was seated,
a cripple with a lyre, I looked at him and said,
"I've been rich but so unhappy,
What set's your soul on fire?"
He said "Look upon me brother, I am a man with piece of mind,
I know I never was much good at nothing
But the words I wrought and rhyme,
But I've a good woman to feed me, and friends to share it too,
Evenings we sit around and sing together,
It can be the same for you"...
CHORUS:
Just hold on, To young friends you made of old,
And please too, the one who keeps us whole,
Keep a warm fire for all your friends,
who come in from the cold,
Love them all as brothers,
you don't have to know their names,
For you it might be different,
but for us it always stays the same...
Tonight the smoke is rising, from around the room,
And judging from the warmth and smells from the kitchen,
There'll be supper ready soon...
And our table's set for twenty,
room for more if they should come,
And later on we'll pass around the wine for our pleasure,
and sing until the morning comes...
CHORUS:
Just hold on, To young friends you made of old,
And please too, the one who keeps you whole,
Keep a warm fire for all your friends,
who come in from the cold,
Love them all as brothers,
you don't have to know their names,
For you it might be different,
but for us it always stays the same...
CHORUS:
Just hold on, To young friends you made of old,
And please too, the one who keeps us whole,
Keep a warm fire for all your friends,
who come in from the cold,
I Love you all as brothers,
I don't have to know your names,
For me it once was different,
He was Captain of the Nightingale
Twenty-one days from Clyde in coal
He could smell the flowers of Bermuda in the gale
When he died on the North Rock Shore
Just five short hours from Bermuda, in a fine October gale
There came a cry "Oh, there be breakers ahead!"
From the collier Nightingale
No sooner had the Captain brought her round, came a rending crash below
Hard on her beam ends, groaning, went the Nightingale
And overside her mainmast goes
"Oh, Captain, are we all for drowning?"came the cry from all the crew
"The boats be smashed! How then are we all to be saved?
They are stove in through and through!"
"Oh, are ye brave and hardy collier-men or are ye blind and cannot see?
The Captain's gig still lies before ye whole and sound,
It shall carry all o' we."
But when the crew was all assembled and the gig prepared for sea,
Twas seen there were but eighteen places to be manned
Nineteen mortal souls were we.
But cries the Captain "Now do not delay, nor do ye spare a thought for me.
My duty is to save ye all now, if I can.
See ye return as quick as can be."
Oh, there be flowers in Bermuda. Beauty lies on every and,
And there be laughter, ease and drink for every man,
But there is no joy for me;
For when we reached the wretched Nightingale what an awful sight was plain
The Captain, drowned, was tangled in the mizzen-chains
How still lies the bay in the bright western airs
Which blow from the crimson horizon
Once more we tack home with a dry empty hold
Saving gas with the breezes so fair
She's a kindly Cape Isander, old, but still sound
But so lost in the longliner's shadow
Make and break, and make do, but the fish are so few
That she won't be replaced should she founder
It's so hard not to think of before the big war
When the cod were so cheap and so plenty
Foreign trawlers go by now with long-seeing eyes
Taking all, where we seldom take any
And so the young folk don't stay with the fisherman's way
Long ago, they all moved to the cities
And the ones left behind, old, tired, and blind
Can't work for "a pound or a penny".
Chorus:
In Make and Break Harbour the boats are so few
Too many are pulled up and rotten
Most houses stand empty, old nets hung to dry
Are blown away, lost and forgotten.
I can see the big draggers have stirred up the bay
Leaving lobster traps smashed on the bottom
Can they think it don't pay to respect the old ways
That Make and Break men have not forgotton?
For we still keep our time to the turn of the tide
And this boat that I built with my father
Still lifts to the sky! The one lunger and I
It's feeling like a wasted night,
The piano's dead, the drummer's tight
The song's gone cold but no-one seems to mind,
Evangeline I'll try again some time.
I've heard it from a friend or two,
They say they like the things I do,
But friends are seldom more than company,
Evangeline, you're what a friend should be.
Chorus:
Freedom friend you've found me,
Now love is all around me.
Imagine my surprise, imagine my surprise.
The city streets are no place to hide,
And failure loves me like a bride,
But points her finger now to someone new,
So, Evangeline, I'm coming home to you.
Chorus:
It's feeling like a wasted night,
The piano's dead, the drummer's tight,
The song's gone cold, but no-one seems to mind.
Well, it's not the hours of watch-on-watch,
And it's not the work that I mind so much,
Or the long cold miles from my lover's touch,
'Though for sure she's far away.
No stranger, I, to the touch of steel,
Or the honest fear any man can feel,
But I long for dust under my heels
And a pocket full of pay.
So I'll take it from day to day.
The pack-ice 'round us cracks and groans;
The old St. Roch, she creaks and moans.
The icy fog is in my bones,
And the ache won't go away.
Outside I bet it's warm and fair.
I could have her fingers in my hair,
But it's long, cold miles to her out there
So I guess I'll have to stay
And just take it from day to day!
We're as far North as I want to come,
But Larsen's got us under his thumb,
And I signed up for the whole damned run,
I can't get off half way.
But when I get back onto the shore,
I'm going South where it stays warm,
And there'll be someone on my arm
To help me spend my pay,
So I'll take it from day to day. (Repeat of verse)
No stranger, I, to the touch of steel
And the honest fear any man can feel,
But I long for dust under my heels
And a pocket full of pay,
Now down the road just a mile or two
Lives a little girl named Pearly Blue
About so high and her hair is brown
The Prettiest thing boys in this town
Now anytime you want to know
Where I'm going, down the road
Get my girl on the line
You'll find me there most any old time
Now everyday and Sunday too
I go to see my Pearly Blue
Before you hear that rooster crow
You'll see me headed down the road
Now old man Flatt he owned the farm
From the hog lot to the barn
From the barn to the rail
He made his living by carrying the mail
Now every time I get the blues
I walk the soles right off my shoes
I don't know why I love her so
When I was younger in the days of my youth,
I used to sit down and watch the river go down,
And see my dreams roll 'round the bend,
Hoping they'd come back again.
Now a long time's gone by and at least once a day
I sit and think about when you were holy
And so eager to see what you could find;
Now ain't it funny how we lost the time?
You wonder why I lay awake at night,
Well I just can't get to sleep.
It's not the devils or the feelings inside,
It's the peace of mind I seek.
'Cause you stand there laughin', I'm standin' starin'
And I've come all this way and all you ever said was,
"Well, that's OK".
Music in your eyes, I can tell by your surprise,
You've been doin' fine, so don't give me no more lies;
We'll understand it all in time.
Music in your eyes, my God, I'd love to watch you dance!
Now don't be feelin' shy, 'cause I know you know how,
And you're not sleepy now.
When I came into this town I knew my hands were bounded;
I knew I'd have to pay for my ways or else go underground,
But I said, "Music in your eyes, I can tell by your surprise,
That you've been doin' fine, so don't give me no more lies.
We'll understand it all in time".
I wouldn't place you in a hole, 'cause that's not the way to do it;
I know you want to be set free to let your love come shining on through;
So come on and shine now!
Music in your eyes, I can tell by your surprise
That you've been doin' fine, so don't give me no more lies,
We'll understand it all in time.
Pale was the wounded knight, that bore the rowan shield
Loud and cruel were the raven's cries that feasted on the field
Saying "Beck water cold and clear will never clean your wound
There's none but the witch of the Westmoreland can make thee hale and soond"
So turn, turn your stallion's head 'til his red mane flies in the wind
And the rider of the moon goes by and the bright star falls behind
And clear was the paley moon when his shadow passed him by
below the hills were the brightest stars when he heard the owlet cry
Saying "Why do you ride this way, and wherefore came you here?"
"I seek the Witch of the Westmorland that dwells by the winding mere"
And it's weary by the Ullswater and the misty brake fern way
Til throught the cleft in the Kirkstane Pass the winding water lay
He said "Lie down, by brindled hound and rest ye, my good grey hawk
And thee, my steed may graze thy fill for I must dismount and walk,
But come when you hear my horn and answer swift the call
For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn ye will serve me best of all"
And it's down to the water's brim he's born the rowan shield
And the goldenrod he has cast in to see what the lake might yield
And wet she rose from the lake, and fast and fleet went she
One half the form of a maiden fair with a jet black mare's body
And loud, long and shrill he blew til his steed was by his side
High overhead the grey hawk flew and swiftly did he ride
Saying "Course well, my brindled hound, and fetch me the jet black mare
Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, and bring me the maiden fair"
She said "Pray, sheathe thy silvery sword. Lay down thy rown shield
For I see by the briny blood that flows you've been wounded in the field"
And she stood in a gown of the velvet blue, bound round withh a silver chain
And she's kissed his pale lips once and twice and three times round again
And she's bound his wounds with the goldenrod, full fast in her arms he lay
And he has risen hale and sound with the sun high in the day
She said "Ride with your brindled hound at heel, and your good grey hawk in hand
A Newfoundland sailor went walking on the strand
He spied a pretty, fair young maid and took her by the hand
"Oh will you go to Newfoundland along with me?" he cried
But the answer that she gave to him was "Oh no, not I."
"If I were to marry you, on me 'twould be the blame
Your friends and relations would scorn me to shame
If you were born of noble blood and me of low degree
Do you think that I could marry you? It's oh no, not me."
Six months being over and seven coming nigh
This pretty fair young maiden she began to look so shy
Her corsets would not meet and her apron would not tie
Made her think on all the times when she said "oh no not I".
Eight months being over and nine coming on
This pretty fair young maiden she brought forth a son
She wrote a letter to her love to come most speedily
But the answer that he gave to her was "Oh no, not me."
He said "My pretty fair maid, the best thing you can do
Is take your child upon your back and a-begging you may go
And It's when that you get tired you can sit you down to cry
And think on all the times when you said "Oh no, not I".
So come all you pretty fair maids, a warning take by me
Don't ever put your trust in the green willow tree
For the leaves they will wither and the root it will die
At Lincoln Centre, a freak o' weather brought a taste of sea,
And I was back in Nova Scotia and all my friends were there with me
And they were drinkin' Diamond, singin' Carter and passin' them from mouth to mouth
It sounded like "goodbye" and I knew that I was headed South, the bitter South.
In my uncle's kitchen the songs are bitchin', or some Hank Williams' blues
And I can hear my cousin's voices singing, the very best that they can do,
And it doesn't matter what we're drinking, the ocean brings the flavour through,
And if none of this is fancy, the love is always straight and true.
Chorus:
Straight and true!
There's something about it, I can't live without the Coast,
The rhythmic ocean, the clean wholesome motion of most of my friends there,
Swaying by the trees, singing of the sea, now.
City streets, they can't hold me when I'm most alone
I'm going on home.
I think I'm ready, my hands are steady, 'though that's something I've not always known,
And even if the West rejects me, there's some place I hold for my own,
And I soon will be there; do I love it? Yes, I guess that you could say I do,
'Cause I'll be picking with my people where the music's always straight and true, straight and true.
I've been sitting here crying since long before the day be-gan
With my pockets full of nothing but broken dreams and my head in my empty hands
The winnings that I thought I had and come so far to get
Are further away then they've ever been, they've been taken by anoth-er man
I wouldn't take a train for home even if I could
Cause they've been saving their joy for the hometown boy who went away to make it good
I bet they cleared away the parlour so my Ma can dance me in the door
And the old man can wink, and pour me a drink and ask me what the tears are for
It's harder to try a-gain than it was to be-gin
A man can play a lone hand in a high stakes game, but it doesn't mean he's gonna win
And somehow I've got to keep from getting further down
Before I buy myself a bottle of cheap escape, and a ticket to anoth-er town
I know I'm not crying 'cause I think I've had it mighty tough
I did my best with all the rest, but it just wasn't good e-nough
And I've been working and training too long just to make it here
To merely swallow my pride and walk outside and come back anoth-er year
It's harder to try a-gain than it was to be-gin
A man can play a lone hand in a high stakes game, but it doesn't mean he's gonna win
And somehow I've got to keep from getting further down
Before I buy myself a bottle of cheap escape, and a ticket to anoth-er town
