Category: songs

Emma Azelborn 2025

 

Emma Azelborn: https://emmaazelborn.bandcamp.com/track/dragons-of-kilpatrick

https://emmaazelborn.bandcamp.com/track/dragons-of-kilpatrick

we are the glinting gilded girls who heard the calling sea her voice it drew us diving to a future swimming free we left our lives behind us to embrace the rolling waves but may those who aim to pillage know we keep the village safe we keep the village safe chorus: beware! beware! our teeth and claws! beware! beware! our fiery jaws! our shining scales protect their sails! we’re the dragons of kilpatrick a wicked storm came rushing in when the tide was low a stranded crew beyond the rocks had nowhere they could go the wind it blew them over, surely everyone would drown but we picked them up and flew them all the way to solid ground all the way to solid ground we send out a dragon guard with every trading boat to keep a watch for danger and to bring them safely home when pirates tried to board them, they were in for a surprise a toothy smile, foreboding wings, and bright reptilian eyes and bright reptilian eyes the raiders of the northern lands attacked our rocky coast we rose up from the water to defend it from their blows they ignored our roaring bellows when we shook the air with rage so we scorched their ships to ashes and they all went down in flames they all went down in flames we are the glinting gilded girls who heard the calling sea and now we are defenders who keep kilpatrick free to any who would challenge, may you hear our warning cry: if you should try to hurt them, then be prepared to die then be prepared to die

 

 

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Gale Huntington collected it from the journal of the Cortes (1847). Eliza Carthy wrote in 2017: “It’s so good and tempting to think about this in modern terms. It’s as if they knew worse rulers, espousing freedom, were to come than the ones who betrayed Napoleon in his final days. Not spitting maybe, but Twitting?”

Eliza Carthy: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmFP905gA9w

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmFP905gA9w

One night sad and languid I went to my bed; I scarcely declined on my pillow, When a vision surprising came into my head, I thought I was crossing the billow. I dreamt, as my vessel dashed over the deep, I beheld a huge rock standing craggy and steep That rock where the widows were once known to weep O’er the grave of that once famed Napoleon Now I dreamt, as my vessel drew near to the land, I beheld, clad in green, a bold figure, With the trumpet of fame he held in his hand, On his brow there was valour and vigour. “A stranger,” cried he, “Dost thou venture to me From the land of thy sires-Old England-where they boast they are free? Now a story, a true story, I tell unto thee Concerning that once-famed Napoleon.” “Now remember the years were immortally told I crossed through the Alps, famed in story; For the legions of France were the sons of my pride, I led them them to honour and glory. ‘Twas on the fields of Marengo where I tyranny uphurled. My banner, the Eagle, was ever unfurled To a standard of freedom all over the world, To the signal of fame,” cried Napoleon. Now, as a soldier, I’ve borne both the heat and the cold, I’ve marched to the trump and the cymbal. By the dark deeds of tragedy I have been sold Though mortals before me did tremble. You rulers and princes their stations demean Like scorpions they spat out their venomous feen But as liberty all over the world shall be seen,” As I awoke from my dreams, cried Napoleon.

 

 

Sue West 

 

Chorus: Drink to the laddies, in beer or in wine Drink to the laddies in whiskey so fine Drink to the laddies in water so clear Oh, drink to the laddies and wish them good cheer Drink to the laddies, the great and the small Drink to the laddies, the short and the tall Drink to the laddies, whether curly or bald Oh, drink to the laddies, for I love them all When they are young, they are handsome and fine When they grow older, they’re just like good wine When they are ancient and their beards have turned gray Oh, still they’ll delight you – both night and day When I was a young maid, my mother, she cried Beware of the laddies and all of their lies Beware of the laddies, never heed what they say But she drank to the laddies till her dying day Well the laddies will charm you and tell you such lies They’ll tell the truth on the day the pig flies Yet still they are pleasant and so full of play So I’ll drink to the laddies till my dying day

 

 

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Bob Walser: “My singing of this song is amalgamated from multiple sources including a version from longshoremen of the Ball Steamship Company in Tampa Florida (AFC 7092 B2 – primary melody, verses 1 and 3), a menhaden fishing version released on the LP Virgina Traditions, sung by Walter Kegler and the crew of the Barnegat, recorded 8 August 1950 off Crab Island, NJ by an NBC radio crew (verses 1, 4, 5 and 6). My lyrics for verse 2 are taken from Lydia Parrish’s Slave Songs of the Georgia Sea Islands p. 250 where the song is called “Communion Hymn” but used for weed cutting. Other versions can be found in Odum & Johnson’s 1926 collection American Negro Songs and Spirituals p. 136; and Bruce Jackson’s classic collection of prison songs Wake Up Dead Man pp. 245 ff. which has versions used for logging and flatweeding.”

Bob Walser: Drinkin’ That Wine

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

Oh, if my mother asks for me, Tell her that death done summon me, You ought to been there ten thousand years Drinkin’ that wine. Chorus: Drinkin’ that wine, wine wine Drinkin’ that wine, oh yes my Lord You oughta been there ten thousand years Drinkin’ that wine. Ain’t but one thing that I done wrong, Stayin’ in the wilderness mos’ too long. Down by the river, we’re gonna walk Me and my Lord gonna have a little talk. Two white horses side by side, One of them horses I’m gonna ride. If you get there before I do, Tell my mother I’m coming too.

 

 

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Collected by Sandy Ives from Charles German in PEI. In the late 18th and early 19th century it appeared in broadsides and a number of songsters under the titles “Contentment” or “The Friendly Society.” Popularized by Joe Hickerson.

Joe Hickerson: Drive Dull Care Away

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CcgOorCbW4k

Why should we of our lot complain Or grieve at our distress? Some think if riches they could gain T’would be true happiness Alas in vain is all their strife Life’s cares will not allay, Chorus So while we’re here with our friends so dear We’ll drive dull care away. Away, away, away away. We will drive dull care away. So while we’re here with our friends so dear We’ll drive dull care away. Why should the rich despise the poor? Why should the poor repine? While in a few short years we shall In equal friendship bind. They’re both to blame, they’re all the same We are all made of one clay, The only circumstance in life That ever I could find, To conquer care and temper strife Was a contented mind. With this in store we have much more Than all things else convey, So always make the best of life Nor render it a curse, But take it as you would a wife For better and for worse. Life at its best is but a jest, Like a dreary winter’s day,

 

 

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The Wilderness Yet: “An Elizabethan Christmas carol, this first appeared as a broadside in c. 1625. It is sung to the tune When Phoebus did rest, under which it is printed in Playford’s The English Dancing Master.”

The Wilderness Yet: https://thewildernessyet.bandcamp.com/track/drive-the-cold-winter-away-2

https://thewildernessyet.bandcamp.com/track/drive-the-cold-winter-away-2

All hail to the days that merit more praise Than all of the rest of the year, And welcome the nights that double delights, As well for the poor as the peer. Good fortune attend each merry man’s friend That doth but the best that he may, Forgetting old wrongs, with carols and songs, To drive the cold winter away. ‘Tis ill for a mind, to anger inclined, To think of small injuries now. If wrath be to seek, do not lend her thy cheek, Nor let her inhabit thy brow. Cross out of thy books malevolent looks, Both beauty and youth’s decay, And wholly consort, with mirth and with sport, To drive the cold winter away. This time of the year is spent in good cheer, When neighbors together do meet, To sit by the fire, in friendly desire, Each other in love to greet. Old grudges, forgot, are put in the pot, All sorrows aside they lay, The old and the young doth carol this song, To drive the cold winter away. When Christmas’s tide comes in like a bride, With holly and ivy clad, Twelve days of the year, much mirth and good cheer In every household is had. The country guise is then to devise Some gambols of Christmas play, Whereat the young men do the best that they can, To drive the cold winter away.

 

 

Nancy Kerr 2011-13

 

Recorded in 2021 and in 2019 by others, written around the same time as Santa Georgia, shortly after moving to urban Sheffield and loving the diversity brought by the immigrant communities.

Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/droving-dreams

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/droving-dreams

Arise with me, Before the dawn is breaking There’s nothing here to give us cheer, Besides the roof is leaking Across the sea, or just a little nearer Perhaps the skies are clearer In a fine foreign land Chorus: So it’s rise up broken hearted Rag and tatter kings and queens Droving dreams on the ocean seems A fine place to be Some take the train, while others sail the ocean I ask the sky to tell me why we all must be in motion Why some folks gain and hanker for a peerage While others travel steerage To a fine foreign land Some souls turn to earn in honest labour To factory or victory or for a lover’s favour When young hearts burn and sultry suns are gleaming You always will be dreaming Of that fine foreign land Skies turn grey for beggar as for gentry From East to West the road is best when neighbours are a-plenty When children play and babies they are squalling Think on the bombs a-falling On their fine foreign land In a handmade home where nothing may assail us I ask the rain to please explain why memories do fail us Why kind hearts roam and flee the clouds above us And leave the ones who love us For a fine foreign land

 

 

Phaedra Kemp 2006

 

Kemp apparently composed most of the songs for her band The Gruff. They were active in British Columbia with a final tour in 2010.

The Gruff: East For the Winter

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

I’ll take my apron off and call it another dayÿ I’ve been workin’ for eight dollars an hour and I can’t say what I’ve savedÿ It don’t mean that I just stay at home wonderin’ what I’m worth or where I went wrong and how I lost my wayÿ Well it feels like it’s been summer since well I don’t know when and I thought I’d never feel that nice cool breeze again and I’m tired of tryin’ to seem like everything’s ok There’s no need to fake a good day in the rainÿ Chorus Well I could go east for the winter and maybe the snow’d feel all right but i know that I would just keep thinking ’bout where to rest my head and that long dark rainy road back home again Blue skies will soon be seen just few and far between I’ll pedal down to the beach at night and make peace with the stormy seas and you and I can both go walkin’ out in the pourin’ rain Wonder how we didn’t see the fallen leavesÿ Well money’s tight and it sure ain’t cheap to fill the house with heat I lay here in the lonely quiet when everyone’s asleep And though it might be true that I spend my time thinkin’ of something new I wouldn’t trade it all away for a guaranteeÿ

 

 

John Roberts 1983

 

John wrote Eat Bertha’s Mussels for our hosts at the fine Baltimore establishment, who have never failed to treat us royally on our many visits there.

Roberts & Barrand: Eat Bertha’s Mussels

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF3UZ1Y5Mn0

Chorus: Eat Bertha’s mussels, they’re the best there is by far You can eat them in the dining room, you can eat them in the bar So when you’re ashore in Baltimore and you fancy a bite to eat Just follow your nose to Bertha’s, you’ll be in for a rare old treat. Now a sailor came to Bertha’s with a problem most severe His manly pride was atrophied from a voyage of fourteen years A couple of plates of mussels, now he sings in a different key His jib boom’s set right, he’ll be in there tonight, and he’ll never go back to sea: Now a lady came to Bertha’s, who wanted a daughter or son The doctors had said with a shake of the head that she couldn’t have either one So she ate a plate of mussels and went back home to her husband dear She tuned up his crwth, and I’ll tell you the truth, she had triplets the very same year: They will cure your diarrhea, cure your constipation, too Just swallow a box for the chicken pox, the measles or the flu So, if you fancy a healthy life, get your daily dosage straight A plate a day of Bertha’s mussels, and you’ll live ’til you’re 98:

 

 

John Kirkpatrick 1978

 

“Based on a true incident in 1972, as reported in Taffy Thomas’ newspaper in the MAgic Lantern van. He looked me in the eye and said ‘There’s a song in there for you, Johnsie.’ And there was. Translated into Dutch (!) and recorded by Gerard Van Maasakkers under the title ‘Janus Dekkers’.” Third verse slightly rewritten by Alex Ellis

Tom Lewis: Tom Lewis: Eddie Bakers Muckspreader

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKkgPnBkGB4

Now in My-tholm-royd in Yorkshire, one Saturday in June / All the village was preparing for the fete that afternoon There were sideshows, stalls and roundabouts and every kind of game / But the village fete will never now be quite the same again For this pleasant country scene was transformed by a machine / Which belonged to Eddie Baker from the farm just down the road With his tractor and his trailer and his load both sweet and pure / Five hundred imperial gallons of best liquified manure Chorus: Down the road went Eddie Baker in his rattling old boneshaker And he never knew the trail he left behind him Now Eddie quickly picked up speed on the track from Lower Lumb Farm / Though his load careered madly he never thought ‘twould come to harm And so noisy was the clatter and the crashes and the booms / He had to turn his old transistor up so he could hear the tunes As he zoomed across a bump it triggered off the trailer’s pump / And its hose discovered freedom it had never known before It waved wildly round and round, from side to side and up and down / As spreading dung and desperation, Eddie sailed into the town Now Jemima Smith and Barney from down the old folks’ home / Were on their way to a lunchtime tipple at the Peacock and Trombone She was adjusting of her spectacles to a admire a garden rose / When a blast from Eddie’s onslaught whipped ’em right from off her nose ‘Oh, gawd’, says old Jemima, ‘I’ve just had a funny turn / Oo , I feel or cold and clammy and how my skin does burn’ ‘Oh, speak up, dear’, says Barney, as together they did cling / ‘It’s short-circuited me Starkey, I can’t hear a bleeding thing Now the Icecream Factory Silver Band were warming up to play / To commence the celebrations of that very special day When there appeared on their music dots they couldn’t play too well / As with the gentle tang of Brasso mingled a new exciting smell And their tunes all went awry as they hung ’em out to dry / And the sousaphone player played his last ’cause he sucked when he should have blowed There were different tunes in different times and all in different keys / And ‘Nellie the Elephant’ sounded more like ‘The Flight of the Bumble Bee’ Now the greasy pole was greasier than ever known before / And the icecream had a chocolate sauce no palate could ignore And into the coffee-coloured candy-floss Grannie Walker plunged her teeth / And for evermore the ones on top were stuck to the ones beneath And in the tug-o-war there were broken bones galore / There was blood all round the bottle stall as both teams slithered through There was chaos round the cake stall and the tea was more like glue / ‘Cause you didn’t just get sugar when they asked, ‘One lump or two?’ So he trundled through the village, down the road and past the hall / And where he’d been for years after all the weeds grew ten feet tall And he never knew the chaos that he’d caused along his way / And he never heard the crashes as he crossed the motorway And in time he’ll dwell on high in that great muckheap in the sky / Where St Peter’ll dive for cover every time he passes by It’ll rust up all their haloes, it’ll clog up all their wings / As, wiping shit from off their faces, all the angels they will sing