Category: songs

trad 

The Digital Tradition attributes it to Charles Davies Tillman with words anon., and says it is "an 1890ish parody on Life is Like a Mountain Railway, ca. 1870".

Miner’s life is like a sailor’s
‘Board a ship to cross the waves.
Ev’ry day his life’s in danger,
Still he ventures being brave.
Watch the rocks, they’re falling daily,
Careless miners always fail.
Keep your hand upon the wages
And your eye upon the scale.

Chorus:
Union miners stand together,
Do not heed the owner’s tale,
Keep your hand upon the wages,
And your eye upon the scale.

You’ve been docked and docked again, boys,
You’ve been loading two to four;
What have you to show for working
Since this mining has begun?
Worn-out boots and worn-out miners,
Lungs of stone and children pale.
Keep your hand upon your wages
And your eye upon the scale.

In conclusion, bear in memory,
Keep the password in your mind:
God provides for every worker
When in union they combine.
Stand like men and linked together,
Victory for you’ll prevail.
Keep your hand upon the wages
And your eye upon the scale. 

Stan Rogers 1983

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.

Chorus 1:
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 Wyandotte 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 up 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!”

Chorus 2:
Aboard the Nancy!
“Surrender, Hell!” I say.
Aboard the Nancy
“It’s back to Mackinac I’ll fight, aboard the Nancy-o.”

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, spare yourself his tears.”
Says I, “I’ll not but send you shot to buzz about your ears.”

We fired as they hauled anchor, boys, and we got under way,
But scarce a dozen broadsides, boys, the Nancy did then pay
Before the business sickened them. They bravely ran away.
All sail we made, and reached the Lake before the close of day.

Chorus 3:
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.

Chorus 4:
Aboard the Nancy!
Six pence and found a day
Aboard the Nancy!
No uniforms for men to scorn, aboard the Nancy-o. 

A.E. Housman 1896 / Ian Robb 2018

Arrowsmith:Robb Trio: "Ian came across this poem when browsing through Housman's dark and pessimistic collection, A Shropshire Lad, published in 1896. The New Mistress, AKA Queen Victoria, probably seduced many a disillusioned or rejected young man into serving-and often dying for-her imperial ambitions.ÿ Ian re-purposed the second stanza as a chorus and wrote the tune."

Chorus:
I will go where I am wanted, to a lady born and bred
Who will dress me free for nothing in a uniform of red;
She will not be sick to see me if I only keep it clean:
I will go where I am wanted for a soldier of the Queen.

Oh, sick I am to see you, will you never let me be?
You may be good for something, but you are not good for me.
Oh, go where you are wanted, for you are not wanted here.
And that was all the fond farewell when I parted from my dear.

I will go where I am wanted, for the sergeant does not mind;
He may be sick to see me but he treats me very kind:
He gives me beer and breakfast and a ribbon for my cap,
And I never knew a sweetheart spend her money on a chap.

I will go where I am wanted, where there’s room for one or two,
And the men are none too many for the work there is to do;
Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick;
And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick.

Richard Thompson 1972

Verses 2 and especially 3 tweaked by Alex Ellis

The time has come for action, Leave your satisfaction
Can’t you hear St. George’s tune, St. George’s tune is calling you home
Freedom was your mother, Fight for one another

Refrain:
Leave your factory leave your forge And dance to the new St. George.

Don’t believe pretenders Who say they would defend us
While they flash their teeth and wave The other hand is being paid
They choke the air and bleed us, These vulgar men who lead us

When fish and fowl are ailing Our way of life is failing
Where were all your empty words No empty words can save us now
They rob, they lie, they’re greedy Who plunder from the needy

Alex Ellis 2024

Source story. Tune: Chi Mi Na Morbeanna

Chorus:
Haul it up, turn the winch carefully
Splice it in, tow the line undersea
Cables that unite us all globally
Who else will keep the world whole?

Internet cables lie taut under ocean waves
Old men who fix them with old boats and older ways
Fear the lines snapping and ripping a life away
Who else will keep the world whole?

My name’s Mitsuyoshi, I’m Ocean Link’s engineer
Measuring bandwidth and wrestling greasy gears
I built this boat, now I’ve lived on her thirty years
Who else will keep the world whole?

Not much reception for calling your wife and son
But shipboard camaraderie is seriously lots of fun
VHS karaoke when work is done
Who else will keep the world whole?

Trawlers or landslides, every week cables break
It’s days without Internet, canceled flights, paychecks late
Worried for loved ones when you can’t communicate
Who else will keep the world whole?

Before data centers lines went to where people are
Dollars for maintenance are dull but important, our
Service is strong to people both near and far
Who else will keep the world whole? 

Harry Wincott 1893

Some mates and I in a public house were playing dominoes one night
When all of a sudden in the pot-man came with his face all chalky white.
“What’s up?” says Brown, “Have you seen a ghost? Have you seen your Aunt Mariah?”
“My Aunt Mariah be blown,” says he, “The bloomin’ pub’s on fire!”

Chorus:
Oh there was Brown, upside down, mopping up the whisky off the floor.
“Booze, booze!” the firemen cried as they came a-knocking at the door.
“Don’t let ’em in till it’s all mopped up!”; someone shouted “McIntyre!”
And we all got blue blind paralytic drunk when the Old Dun Cow caught fire.

Old Johnson rushed to the port-wine tub and gave it just a few hard knocks.
He started taking off his pantaloons, likewise his shoes and socks.
“Hold on,” says Tibbs, “if you want to wash your feet there’s a tub of old ale here.
Don’t wash your feet in the port-wine tub when we’ve still got some old stale beer.”

Just then there came such an awful crash, half the bloomin’ roof gave way.
We were doused by the fireman’s hose but still we were all gay.
We got some sacks and some old tin tacks and we bunged ourselves inside,
And we all got drinking good old Scotch when the Old Dun Cow caught fire. 

trad

I was told by my Aunt I was told by my mother
That going to a wedding Is the makings of another
Well if this be so Then I’ll go without a bidding
O kind Providence Won’t you send me to a wedding

Chorus:
And it’s Oh dear me How will it be
If I die an old maid In a garret

Now there’s my sister Jean She’s not handsome or good looking
Scarcely sixteen And a fella she was courting
Now she’s twenty-four She’s a son and a daughter
Here am I, forty-four And I’ve never had an offer

I can cook and I can sew I can keep a house right tidy
Rise up in the morning And get the breakfast ready
There’s nothing in this wide world That makes my heart so cheery
As a wee fat man To call me his own deary

So come landsman or come townsman Come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler, come dancer Come ploughman or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man Come fool or come witty
Come any man at all Won’t you marry out of pity? 

trad 

Chorus:
Gonna take my stool and sit in the shade
I’m determined to be an old maid
I ain’t gonna marry at all, at all
I ain’t gonna marry at all

I ain’t gonna marry a man that’s poor ‘Cause he’ll go begging from door to door
I ain’t gonna marry at all, at all I ain’t gonna marry at all

…a man that’s rich, ’cause he’ll get drunk and fall in a ditch

…a man that’s old, with his wrinkled face and hands so cold

…a man that’s young, with his wandering eyes and his blathering tongue

…a preacher’s son, ’cause he won’t let me have my fun

…a farmer’s son, all he wants is a dog and a gun

…a man that’s fat, he’ll sit in the door and kick the cat

…a man that’s little, he won’t be able to play the big fiddle

…a morris man, ’cause all he wants is a cold beer can

…one man at all, I’ll take them all home and love them all 

trad

Cecil Sharp notes: “The adjective ‘painful’ is of course, used in its original sense of taking pains, careful, industrious.” Roy Palmer wrote in 1972: “According to Baring-Gould, this ballad may have been written by Martin Parker, who died about 1656. It was extremely popular during the nineteenth century, no doubt as an assertion of the dignity of the labourers and the importance of their work.” Finest Kind wrote: “This 19th century English ballad in its original form was an argument between a ploughman and a gardener as to whose occupation was more valuable to humanity. In most versions heard nowadays, the gardener’s side has disappeared, flour having won out over flowers.”

Come all you jolly ploughmen of courage stout and bold
Who labour all the winter in stormy winds and cold
To clothe your fields with plenty, your barnyards to renew
To crown them with contentment, behold the painful plough.

For Adam was a ploughman when ploughing first begun
The next that did succeed him was Cain his eldest son.
Some of the generation the calling do pursue,
That bread may not be wanting, remains the painful plough.

And Samson was a mighty man, and Solomon he was wise,
Alexander for to conquer was all his daily prize,
King David he was valious, and many thousands slew
But none of these brave heroes could live without the plough.

Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades in foreign seas
And brings both gold and treasure to those that live at ease
With finest silks and spices, and fruits and dainties too
They are brought from the Indies by virtue of the plough.

For they must have bread and biscuit, rice pudding, flour and peas
To feed the jolly sailor that sails upon the seas
Yet every man that brings them here must own to what is true:
He cannot sail the ocean without the painful plough.

Nancy Kerr 

Nancy Kerr: https://nancykerr.bandcamp.com/track/the-priests-garden

In the heart of the holy city, where the seeds of our shadows are sewn, sewn
I was walking all in the priest’s garden, and I met a sweet child all alone, lone
I met a sweet child all alone

The hard rain it blew all around him til the black earth was riven with cares, cares
And roses were bending and breaking. “Oh the ravens have stolen my prayers”
he said “Oh the ravens have stolen my prayers”

“I was sailing my own little rowboat with my cross and my bible and beads, beads
It was built by my father and mother, and the name of that boat it was creed, creed
And the name of that boat it was creed”

Well a stream it flowed out of the village where the willows they weep by the ford, ford
And that stream it grew into a river and the name of that river was Lord, Lord
And the name of that river was Lord

And that river flowed into the valley, and that valley flowed into a cave, cave
At the heart of that cave was an altar, and the name on the altar was saved, saved
And the name on the altar was saved

But the raven is wary and wily for he covets our shadows in shame, shame
And he’s wearing the rose of the holy and he’ll dare you to mention his name, name
He’ll dare you to mention his name

Dark roses they bloom in his garden and the roots they are fed upon fears, fears
Though he preaches of penance and pardon, all the petals are covered in tears, tears
All the petals are covered in tears

I will pull down those brambles and briars where they grow from below and above, bove
I will build a gate out of this garden, and the name on that gate shall be love, love
And the name on that gate shall be love