Category: songs

Elsie Gawler 2020

 

Elsie Gawler: https://elsiegawler.bandcamp.com/track/dip-and-sway

https://elsiegawler.bandcamp.com/track/dip-and-sway

darling dip and sway, across the ocean today and feel the water soak in your skin i hear you next to me, in perfect harmony let’s let the time slip away and darling sing, along with me and let your voice blow away in the breeze feel the rhythm in your soul, there’s not a thing i could want more than to be in this moment, moment in time breathe in the salty air, and close your eyes my dear just let the waves move us along and darling sing, along with me and let your voice blow away in the breeze and lift up your voice in song, we’ll carry each other along our hearts they beat, they beat as one so darling dip and sway, we dance with the ocean today and feel the motion move in you so darling sing, along with me and let your voice blow away in the breeze just let your voice blow away in the breeze

 

 

Ewan MacColl 1949

 

Ewan MacColl wrote Dirty Old Town about Salford, Lancashire, England, the city where he was born and brought up. It was originally composed for an interlude to cover an awkward scene change in his 1949 play Landscape With Chimneys, set in a North of England industrial town, but many people now erroneously regard it as a traditional song.

I found my love on the gasworks croft, Dreamed a dream by the old canal; Kissed my girl by the factory wall, Dirty old town, dirty old town. Heard a siren from the docks, Saw a train set the night on fire; Smelt the spring on the smoky wind, Dirty old town, dirty old town. Clouds a-rolling across the sky, Cats a-prowling upon their beat; Spring’s a girl in the street at night, Dirty old town, dirty old town. I’m going to make a good sharp axe, Shining steel tempered in the fire; We’ll chop you down like an old dead tree, Dirty old town, dirty old town.

 

 

trad 

 

Collected by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger from Sam Larner, probably from American music hall tradition due in part to reference to the Knickerbocker Line, which was in Boston.

The Teacups: https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/dogger-bank

https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/dogger-bank

Sailing over the Dogger Bank Oh, wasn’t it a treat? The wind a-blowing ’bout east north east, We had to give our sheet. You should to see us rally, The wind a-blowing free, A passage from the Dogger Bank To Great Grimsby. Chorus: So watch her, twig her, She’s a proper juber-ju. Give her the sheet and let her rip, We’re the boys to see her through. You should to see us rally, The wind a-blowing free, A passage from the Dogger Bank To Great Grimsby. Now the captain he’s a shangaroosh And he loves a drop of good ale, The mate he is a road-stone inspector, He’s been seen in many a jail. The third hand he’s a bush ranger, He comes from the African Isle, And take a look at the poor old cook, He gets the bugger wild. Now, we are the boys to make a noise When we come home from sea, We get right drunk, we roll on the floor, We have a jubilee; We get right drunk and full of beer We roll all over the floor, And when the rent it is all spent, We’ll go to sea for more. So it’s watch her, twig her, It’s down the street she came; With high heels and painted toes Good Jinnie is on the game She is one of them flash girls, Can’t she cut a shine? She can do a double shuffle On the Knickerbocker Line.

 

 

trad 1649

 

Martin Carthy wrote in 1988 “It was written in 1649 by an anonymous pamphleteer and with the removal of verses or lines particular to that time becomes a reflection of the propaganda lie currently being touted for all it’s worth (again) that violence or the threat of it will get you nowhere. The tune is adapted from a Breton pipe tune called Ar Ch’akouz (The Leper).” The Melrose Quartet added in 2017 “Martin added verses 3 and 5 in the 1980s and encouraged us to add our own for this revisiting.”

The Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/dominion-of-the-sword

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/dominion-of-the-sword

Lay by your pleading, law lies a-bleeding Burn all your studies down, and throw away your reading Small power the word has, and can afford us Not half so much privilege as the sword does It’ll the foster the master, plaster disaster This’ll make a servant quickly greater than the master Ventures, enters, seeks and it centres Ever the upper hand, never the dissenter Kruger, Krugerrand-a, whither do you wander? Gone to the suborning of Hastings Banda Kruger Krugerrand-a, tear you all asunder Beira to Luanda, Gaborone to Nyanga Talks of small things, it sets up all things This’ll master money, though money masters all things It is not season to talk of reason Never call it loyal when the sword says treason Balm for the whaler, balm for the the furrier This’ll get the measure of an eco warrior Incognito, come and sink a Rainbow President will never know, I should bloody coco Build a drone, fly it, governments will buy it Devils in the desert sand give us a chance to try it Don’t need their ident, propaganda strident Blow them up remotely with a Hellfire or a Trident. Subtle deceiver turns calm to fever See the pilgrim flay the unbeliever It’ll make a lay man preach and to pray man It’ll make a Lord of him that was but a drayman Conquers the crown too, grave and the gown too Set you up a province but it’ll pull it down too No gospel can guide it, no law decide it In church or state, till the sword sanctified it Take books, rent ’em, who can invent ’em? When that the sword says there’ll be no argumentum Blood that is spilt, sir, has gained all the guilt, sir Thus have you seen me run my sword up to the hilt, sir

 

 

Marisa Egerstrom 2019

 

“Very traditional; some sources suggest roots in the origins of patriarchy. Verses and variations arose out of contact with Robert Bly’s “men’s movements” participants, bullshit polyamory practices that reinscribe male manipulation of multiple women by pitting them against each other under pseudo-progressive ideological cover; and the modern insecurity of nostalgic men who refuse to just go to fucking therapy already. While it remains a song in underground circulation, there are known performances by the afternoon pandemic shift of Real Pickles kitchen workers.”

Chorus Don’t fall in love with a Vermont man He won’t love you back,ÿ no he won’t love you back! Don’t fall in love with a Vermont man No matter how beautiful he is. I fell in love with a Burlington guy He wrote nice poems to the Green Mountain sky He spoke low & sweet but when I started to swoon He vanished to the woods, howling at the moon I fell in love with a Brattleboro man He made art and music and built his home by hand His aesthetic was perfection; nothing less would do So out the door I went when I wasn’t perfect too I fell in love somewhere near Montpelier We talked of revolution and he said “y’know, I feel ya” When I asked him for a kiss he checked his calendar to see If his nineteen other girlfriends would allow some room for me I fell in love with a man from Putney Town We sang our song in forests and went camping all around He aligned my chakras and he made his prayers to Life Til one day, knocking at my door, came his raging wife Something ’bout that mountain air just makes you want to flirt Maybe it’s the rivers as they curve down through the birch But if you’ve paid attention to my cautionary tale You’ll keep your heart for boring men — maybe from New Hampshire!

 

 

Leon Rosselson 1973

 

The song inevitably met with mixed reactions when performed in clubs and pubs, but recalls a time when the feminist movement had a genuine momentum, and thanks in part to its sense of humour, is one of his more popular. Published in his book “That’s Not the Way It’s Got to Be” in 1973, recorded on “Love, Loneliness, Laundry” in 1977. “As I think songwriters have some responsibility to catch the spirit of the times, I wrote this song, drawn from observation and some personal experience, which had quite a vogue for a time. It was featured in a TV programme about Fringe Theatre songs, sung in music hall style by Liz Mansfield, who was at that time in the Red Ladder Theatre Company, and recorded in a miners’ club in Yorkshire. The women seemed to relish the performance; the miners looked distinctly uncomfortable.”

Nancy Kerr: https://nancykerr.bandcamp.com/track/dont-get-married-girls

https://nancykerr.bandcamp.com/track/dont-get-married-girls

Chorus 1 Don’t get married, girls – you’ll sign away your life You may start off as a woman but you’ll end up as ‘the Wife’ You could be a vestal virgin, take the veil and be a nun But don’t get married, girls, for marriage isn’t fun It’s fine when you’re romancing and he plays the lover’s part You’re the roses in his garden, you’re the flame that warms his heart And his love will last forever and he’ll promise you the moon But just wait until you’re wedded then he’ll sing a different tun? You’re his tapioca pudding, you’re the dumplings in his st?w And he’ll soon begin to wonder what he ever saw in you Still he takes without complaining all the dishes you provide But you see he has to have his bit of jam tart on the side Chorus 2 So don’t get married, girls, it’s very badly paid You may start off as the mistress but you’ll end up as the maid Be a daring deep-sea diver, be a polished polyglot But don’t get married, girls, for marriage is a plot Have you seen him in the morning with a face that looks like death He’s got dandruff on his pillow and tobacco on his breath And he wants some reassurance with his cup of tea in bed For he’s got worries with the mortgage and the bald patch on his head And he’s sure that you’re his mother, lays his head upon your breast So you try to boost his ego, iron his shirt and warm his vest Then you get him off to work, the mighty hunter is restored And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can’t afford Chorus 3 So don’t get married, girls, men are all the same They just use you when they need you, you’ll do better on the game Be a call girl, be a stripper, be a hostess, be a whore But don’t get married, girls, for marriage is a bore When he comes home in the evening he can hardly spare a look All he says is, What’s for dinner – after all, you’re just the cook But when he takes you to a party he eyes you with a frown And you know you’ve got to look your best, you mustn’t let him down Then he’ll clutch you with that ‘Look-what-I’ve-got’ twinkle in his eyes Like he’s entered for a raffle and he’s won you for the prize But when the party’s over you’ll be slogging through the sludge Half the time a decoration and the other half a drudge Chorus 4 So don’t get married, it’ll drive you round the bend It’s the lane without a turning, it’s the end without an end Change your lover every Friday, take up tennis, be a nurse But don’t get married, girls, for marriage is a curse Then you get him off to work, the mighty hunter is restored And he leaves you there with nothing but the dreams you can’t afford

 

 

Alistair Hulett 2002

 

heid bummer = leader / gey close tae scunnert = to the brink of collapse / swap suppert = forcibly fed / ower blaistart = in an uproar / weel an’ brawly gouthart = in a quandary

Alistair Hulett: Alistair Hulett & Dave Swarbrick-Don’t Sign Up For War

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07KX91eKFdQ

See yon Arthur Henderson, head bummer of the working men When war broke out he pressed his suit and ran to catch the train He signed a deal in London, no more strikes until the fighting’s done In Glasgow town the word went round, take heed of John Maclean Chorus: He said a bayonet, that’s a weapon with a working man at either end Betray your country, serve your class. Don’t sign up for war my friend Don’t sign up for war When they turned him out of Langside Hall, John stood up at the fountain What he said was tailor-made to magnify the friction You patriots can roar and bawl, it’s nought but braggarts’ fiction The only war worth fighting for is war against oppression The police whisked him out of there and down to Queens Park station They told him plain, offend again and we’ll make you rue the day, son But Johnny didn’t turn a hair, he called for a demonstration A mighty throng ten thousand strong turned out against conscription The next time that they came for him, John kent they meant the business He didn’t plea for mercy, he said give me British justice The justice that he called for stunned many into silence When out of Hell the hammer fell, three years was the sentence The clamour to release Maclean reached fever pitch and more, man In a year and a half they called it off, but Christ it taxed him sore, man He came back old before his time, but he didn’t seem to care, man Do all you can, I’m still the one who’ll cause you to beware, man The last time they jailed Maclean he came gey close to scunnert With a rubber hose put up his nose they kept him swap suppert Let him out or keep him in, Red Clyde was ower blaistert Each way they turned the Government was well and brawly gouthart

 

 

Bobby McFerrin 1988

 

It was the first a cappella song to reach number-one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart, a position it held for two weeks. Originally released in conjunction with the film Cocktail, the song peaked at number-one on September 24, 1988, displacing “Sweet Child o’ Mine” by Guns N’ Roses. The song also peaked at number 11 on the Billboard Hot Black Singles chart and number seven on the Billboard Hot Adult Contemporary Tracks chart. It was also a hit in the United Kingdom, reaching number two during its fifth week on the UK Singles Chart. In Canada, the song reached number-one in its eighth week. One critic noted it as a “formula for facing life’s trials” At the 1989 Grammy Awards, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” won the awards for Song of the Year, Record of the Year, and Best Male Pop Vocal Performance.

Bobby McFerrin: Don’t Worry Be Happy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFDOSq6Wxa0

Here’s a little song I wrote You might want to sing it note for note Don’t worry Be happy In every life we have some trouble But when you worry you make it double Don’t worry Be happy, don’t worry, be happy now Chorus: Don’t worry, be happy (x4) Ain’t got no place to lay your head Somebody came and took your bed Don’t worry Be happy The landlord say your rent is late He may have to litigate But don’t worry Be happy, look at me, I’m happy Ain’t got no cash, ain’t got no style Ain’t got no gal to make you smile But don’t worry Be happy ‘Cause when you worry, your face will frown And that will bring everybody down So don’t worry Be happy, don’t worry, be happy now In your life expect some trouble But when you worry, you make it double But don’t worry Be happy, be happy now

 

 

trad 

 

Appears in James Hogg’s 1819 “Jacobite Relics”. Silly Wizard: “Donald MacGillavry was captain in charge of a section of the Highland army during the Jacobite Rebellion of 1715. In this song, however, his name is used to represent the entire Jacobite force.”

Silly Wizard: Silly Wizard Live – Donald McGillavry

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=appBtXoxfb8

Donald’s gane up the hill hard and hungry, Donald comes down the hill wild and angry; Donald will clear the gouk’s nest cleverly, Here’s to the king and Donald Macgillavry. ÿÿÿÿCome like a weighbauk, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿCome like a weighbauk, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿBalance them fair, and balance them cleverly: ÿÿÿÿOff wi’ the counterfeit, Donald Macgillavry. Donald’s run o’er the hill but his tether, man, As he were wud, or stang’d wi’ an ether, man; When he comes back, there’s some will look merrily: Here’s to King James and Donald Macgillavry. ÿÿÿÿCome like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿCome like a weaver, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿPack on your back, and elwand sae cleverly; ÿÿÿÿGie them full measure, my Donald Macgillavry. Donald has foughten wi’ rief and roguery; Donald has dinner’d wi’ banes and beggary, Better it were for Whigs and Whiggery Meeting the devil than Donald Macgillavry. ÿÿÿÿCome like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿCome like a tailor, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿPush about, in and out, thimble them cleverly, ÿÿÿÿHere’s to King James and Donald Macgillavry. Donald’s the callan that brooks nae tangleness; Whigging and prigging and a’newfangleness, They maun be gane: he winna be baukit, man: He maun hae justice, or faith he’ll tak it, man. ÿÿÿÿCome like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿCome like a cobler, Donald Macgillavry; ÿÿÿÿBeat them, and bore them, and lingel them cleverly, ÿÿÿÿUp wi’ King James and Donald Macgillavry. Donald was mumpit wi’ mirds and mockery; Donald was blinded wi’ blads o’ property; Arles ran high, but makings were naething, man, Lord, how Donald is flyting and fretting, man. ÿÿÿÿCome like the devil, Donald Macgillavry, ÿÿÿÿCome like the devil, Donald Macgillavry; ÿÿÿÿSkelp them and scaud them that proved sae unbritherly, ÿÿÿÿUp wi’ King James and Donald Macgillavry!

 

 

Phil Ochs 1964

 

Phil Ochs: Draft Dodger Rag

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_T9MHFldX1E

Oh, I’m just a typical American boy From a typical American town I believe in God and Senator Dodd And in keepin’ old Castro down And when it came my time to serve I knew “better dead than red” But when I got to my old draft board Buddy, this is what I said Chorus: Sarge, I’m only eighteen, I got a ruptured spleen And I always carry a purse I’ve got eyes like a bat and my feet are flat And my asthma’s getting worse Yes, think of my career, my sweetheart dear And my poor old invalid aunt Besides, I ain’t no fool, I’m a-goin’ to school And I’m working in a defense plant I’ve got a dislocated disc and a wracked up back I’m allergic to flowers and bugs And when the bombshell hits, I get epileptic fits And I’m addicted to a thousand drugs I got the weakness woes, I can’t touch my toes I can hardly reach my knees And if the enemy came close to me Why I’d probably start to sneeze Ooh, I hate Chou En Lai, and I hope he dies But one thing you gotta see That someone’s gotta go over there And that someone isn’t me So I wish you well, Sarge, give ’em hell Kill me a thousand or so And if you ever get a war without blood and gore I’ll be the first to go