Author: Alex

Edgar Dowell 1924

Charlie Ipcar's website says "From the singing of Ella Madison and Esther Bigeou, 1920's". Charley Noble on Mudcat says "By Edgar Dowell, Transcribed from Piron's New Orleans Orchestra, vocals by Esther Bigeou, recorded December 14, 1923; From The Complete Works of Esther Bigeou, Lillyn Brown, Alberta Brown & the Remaining Titles of Ada Brown in Chronological Order (1921-1928)"

Been all over this doggone world, Been as far as China;
Worst place I ever did see Was Charleston, South Carolina.

Chorus:
I’m going home, won’t be long,
Going home, as sure as you’re born
I’m going home, won’t be long,
Got them West Indies Blues

Got my grip and trunk all packed, The ship, I’m going to take her;
Say goodbye to Charleston Town, I’m going to Jamaica.

Them Charleston folks eat alligator meat, Fried with rice and potatoes;
Best eating I ever did have Was monkey hips and tomatoes.

Now when I get to Kingston Town, Gonna hang around the water;
Make my living, sure as you’re born, Diving after quarters.

And when I get to Kingston Town, Going to get myself a carriage;
Roll on down to Sally’s house And ask her hand in marriage.

So goodbye, dear old Charleston Town, My packet sails tomorrow;
Goodbye, all you dance hall girls, I leave you without sorrow. 

trad 

Wikipedia: New Zealand-based music teacher and folk music compiler Neil Colquhoun claimed to have collected the song around 1966 from one F. R. Woods. Woods, who was in his 80s at the time, had allegedly heard the song. In 1973, "Soon May the Wellerman Come" was included in Colquhoun's book of New Zealand folk songs, New Zealand Folksongs: Songs of a Young Country.

There was a ship that put to sea
And the name of the ship was the Billy of Tea.
The wind blew up, her bow dipped down,
Oh, blow, my bully boys, blow.

Chorus:
Soon may the Wellerman come
And bring us-sugar and tea and rum.
One day, when the tonguing is done,
We’ll take our leave and go.

She had not been two weeks from shore
When down on them a right whale bore.
The captain called all hands and swore
He’d take that whale in tow.

Before the boat had hit the water
The whale’s tail come up and caught her.
All hands to the side, harpooned and fought her,
But she dived down below.

No line was cut; no whale was freed.
The captain’s mind was not on greed.
He belonged to the whaleman ‘s creed:
She took that ship in tow.

For forty days or even more
The line went slack, then tight once more.
All the boats were lost ( there were only four),
But still that whale did go.

As far as I know the fight’ s still on,
The line’s not cut and the whale’s not gone.
The Wellerman makes his regular call
To encourage the captain, crew and all. 

trad 

Archie Fisher recorded in 1976 on The Man With a Rhyme, where he wrote: "I have a soft spot for the Chief Lochiel mentioned in this song, for the story goes that he talked Prince Charlie out of ransacking my native city of Glasgow when its burghers refused to supply the retreating Jacobite army with shoes and supplies. Charlie was not always as welcome in some places as this song implies. If he had been, the result of the '45 rebellion might have been very different." doited = foolish, childish. Daurna = dare not. Shiel = highland cottage.

The prince who should oor king hae been, he wore the royal red and green
A bonnier lad was never seen than our brave royal Charlie

Chorus:
Oh, ye’ve been lang a-comin’,
Lang, lang, lang a’comin’
Oh, ye’ve been lang a-comin’,
Welcome royal Charlie

Since oor true king was sent awa’
A doited German rules us a’
And we are forced against the law
For the right belongs to Charlie

We daurna brew a peck o’ malt
Or German Geordie finds a fault
And for oor kail we’d scarce get salt
For the want o’ royal Charlie

When Charlie in the hielan’ shiel
Forgithered wi’ the great Lochiel
Oh what kindness did prevail
Atween the chief and Charlie

At Falkirk and at Prestonpans,
Supported by oor heilan clans
He broke the Hanoverian bands;
The right belongs to Charlie 

Harry Robertson 1971

The whaling station in the South Georgia islands, operated by a Scottish company from 1909 until 1965. Robertson worked there in 1950-51. I love this video but I have no idea who they are.

Now the winter blizzards blow and the whaling fleet’s at rest,
Tucked in Leith Harbour’s sheltered bay safely anchored ten abreast.
The whalers at their stations from shed to shed they rove,
Carry bags of coal with them and a little iron stove.

Chorus:
In that wee dark engine room where the chill seeps through your soul,
How we huddled round that wee pot stove that burned oily rags and coal.

The fireman Paddy works with me on the engines frozen cold,
A stranger to the truth was he, there’s no lie he hasn’t told.
Well, he boasted of his gold mines and all the hearts he’d won
And his bawdy sense of humour shone just like a ray of sun.

We live it seven days a week, cold hands and frozen feet,
Bitter days and lonely nights, making grog and having fights.
There’s fish and whale-meat sausage and penguin egg’s a treat;
Then we struggle on to work each day through the icy winds and sleet.

Then one day we saw the sun, saw the factory ships return,
Meet your old friends, sing a song; hope the seasons won’t be long.
Then it’s homeward bound it’s over and we’ll leave this icy cove;
But I always will remember that little iron stove. 

Jess Arrowsmith 2011

Written for the wedding of Sara and Phil Rose.

The Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/wedding-bells

On a Winter’s day I walked alone
The coldest day of all the year
And I wished that I had for my own
A sweetheart who would be my dear

Chorus:
Oh wedding bells ring out one day of joy (x2)

On a day in Spring ‘neath skies so clear
I met my love for the very first time
And my heart was filled with joy and cheer
That I was his and he was mine

On a Summer’s day the sun did shine
We shared our thoughts and did agree
That evermore our hearts would twine
And therefore married we should be

This Autumn day as all can see
We stand together clasping hands
In front of friends and family
Are joined as one with marriage bands 

trad 

The Teacups: https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/the-weary-cutters

Chorus:
Oh, the weary cutters, they’ve taken my laddie from me (x2)

They always come in the night, They never come in the day
They always come in the night, And they steal the laddies away

They’ve shipped him far away foreign, With Nelson all on the salt sea
Oh, the weary cutters, they’ve taken my laddie from me

When I look to the north I look with a tear in my eye
But when I look to the south I see the laddies come by

I’ll give the cutters a shilling, I’ll give the cutters no more
I’ll give the cutters a shilling to fetch my laddie ashore

Oh, the weary cutters, and oh, the weary sea
Oh, the weary cutters, they’ve taken my laddie from me 

Gordon Bok 1977

"I wrote this song while doing the music for a public television documentary on the maritime history of Maine called "Home to the Sea." It became the theme song, with Ann Mayo Muir singing the full version of the song at the end of the film.ÿ If it sounds bitter, remember that the day is late and not the fate of the small fisherman on the Northeast coast looks even darker than it did before.ÿ There's no subsidy here for the "little fellow" - only more paperwork."

The ways of man are ‘passing strange
He buys his freedom and he counts his change
Then he lets the wind his days arrange
And he calls the tide his master.

Chorus:
Oh, the days, oh the days,
Oh, the fine long summer days.
The fish come rolling in the bays
And he swore he’d never leave me.

But the days grow short and the year gets old
And the fish won’t stay where the water’s cold,
And if they’re going to fill the hold
They’ve got to go offshore to find them.

So they go outside on the raving deep
And they pray the Lord their soul to keep
But the waves will roll them all to sleep
And the tide will be their keeper.

Oh, the tide, oh, the tide,
Oh, you dark and you bitter tide.
If I can’t have him by my side,
I guess I have to leave him.

I gave you one, I gave you two:
The best that rotten old boat could do.
You won’t be happy till I give you three,
But I’ll be damned if you’ll get me.

Oh, the tide, oh, the tide,
Oh, you dark and you bitter tide.
If I can’t have him by my side,
The water’s welcome to him.

Ah, Lord, I know that the day will come
When one less boat comes slogging home.
I don’t mind knowing that he’ll be the one,
But I can’t spend my whole life praying.

I gave you one, I have you two:
The best that poor old boat could do;
You’ll have it all before you’re through
Well, I’ve got no more to give you. 

Alex Sturbaum 2017

Alex Sturbaum: https://alexsturbaum.bandcamp.com/track/way-down-in-the-toad-mines

It was way back in ’14 when first I went west
Hopped an old empty boxcar and the rails did the rest
Spat me out in Wyoming, Bighorn Mountain range
It was then that my life took a turn for the strange
Heard tell of a job out by Chugwater way
They needed some hands, they were willing to pay
And me, I was tired of life on the road
So I went out prospecting for Wyoming toad

Chorus 1:
Way down in the toad mines
I guess that’s where my sin began
Way down in the toad mines
Digging for them damn amphibians

Now the bull-goose prospector was Warty Joe Flynn
And he knew of the state the toad business was in
A dollar a day we was paid for our time
In hopes we could find a good spot for the mine
They came off the skids, off the rails and the roads
And soon came the cry: Warty Joe had struck toad
We dug the first toad shaft the very next day
And the miners came next: where there’s toads, there’ll be pay

Chorus 2:
Way down in the toad mines
Where the time is always evenin’
Way down in the toad mines
Digging through them toad secretions

Well, we found us some hoptoads and found us some leapers
And damn near caved in once in a seam of spring peepers
But in April of that year we struck mother lode
A big, croaking vein of pure Wyoming toad
We worked day and night to that ribbiting sound
Every day we hauled six tons of toad out the ground
Chugwater sprung up, and was much talked about
No one could have guessed that the toad might run out

Chorus 3:
Way down in the toad mines
For the gods of wealth are jolly gods
Way down in the toad mines
With your pockets full of polywogs

Well, the mine it dried up, and the town dried up too
There ain’t no place to go, there ain’t nothing to do
We went out prospecting to find a new vein
But the good days of toad mining won’t come again
I went back on the bum and I hopped a freight train
I cut timber for a while, but it weren’t quite the same
There never was more than one business for me
And boys, the toad business ain’t what it used to be

Chorus 4:
Way down in the toad mines
That’s where I spent my youth
Way down in the toad mines
Think I might go back east and try panning for newts 

trad

"A Welsh song found in Peter Kennedy's compilation Folksongs of Britain and Ireland. The last verse was added in honor of our close friends and newlyweds, Molly and Alex Ellis. Although we were not able to attend their wedding (they'll never let us live it down!), we hope this little gift will help them to forget to remind us of our absence from their big day."

The Vox Hunters: https://thevoxhunters.bandcamp.com/track/was-you-ever-see

There was John and Jane and Betsy
Eatin’ buns and drinkin’ whiskey
Dancing jigs upon the fiddle
Up the sides and down the middle

Chorus:
Was you ever see (x3)
Such a jolly time before

I was got a brother Joe
He was came from Calico
He was got to Chester College
For to have a bit of knowledge

I was got a sister Bella
She was courtin’ with umbrella
She would think so much about it
She was never go without it

She was stricken strikin’ whistle
Making noise just like the devil
Darby Jones of Ponticellen
Come to see the oaken railway

There was Alex there was Molly
With their smiles bright and jolly
Flying fearless in fine fettle
With a foot upon each pedal 

Fred Small 1991

In a dry world in a barren world
Water, people need water
In the desert night around the dying light
Fitful sleepers dream of water
And peaceful tribes rule their lives
By water
And seething hordes raise their swords
And kill for water
In a world of drought
Water is lord of all

In a driven world in a plastic world
Oil, we drill for oil
All the meek and the mean choose their dream machines
Line up for oil, we shoot up oil
And nation states stake their fate
On the price of oil
While their obedient sons prime their guns
And kill for oil In a rundown world
Oil is lord of all

Bridge:
Oh there’s gotta be more than this
The drudging dance, the obscene kiss
Oh there’s gotta be some way out
A smile, a shout

In a hurting world in a hating world
Love, we reach for love
In the restless heat of sweat-stained sheets
We strain for love, cry out for love
In a child’s look an open book
And every page is love
And pushed to shove we kill for love
We cannot kill for love
We cannot kill for love
We cannot kill love
In a desert world
In a driven world
In a doubting world
Love is lord of all
Love is lord of all