Category: songs

John Tams 1984

 

Written for the play “Six Men of Dorset”, was then sung by striking miners. Tams says “it got sung on the picket line, which I thought was about as big a tribute as could be paid to anybody, to be so incorporated – that was enough for me.”

Swan Arcade: Raise Your Banner

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xF5z3-NqBxw

Bound together through the land Keep the spirit – keep the way Brother sister make a stand Unity will win the day Chorus: Raise your banner high, Strength to strength and line by line Unity must never die Raise your banner high Those who stand in face of strife Those who stand for liberty Fight to win a better life Fight to keep the future free Though the struggle brings us pain Though the struggle brings us tears Ours will be the final gain We will hear the victory cheers

 

 

Andy M Stewart 1979

 

Silly Wizard: The Valley Of Strathmore

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d5mO9IEWbGE

By the clear and the winding streams In the valley of Strathmore Where my love and I have been Where we’ll wander never more Chorus But if time was a thing man could buy All the money that I have in store I would give for one day by her side In the valley of Strathmore From the glen of the golden and green I left for a land far away Where sadness has never been seen Aye, and joy only costs a day’s pay In Strathmore there’s a long working day For a man with his hands on the plow But it’s work I’d be happy to do If at night I were lying with you As I take a long draft from my glass Oh, I’m drinking alone here again And I try not to think of my lass For the old days will ne’er come again

 

 

Paul Clark 1981

 

Written for a play called Days of Pride, produced at Stantonbury Theatre

Roberts & Barrand: Great War Trilogy: The Valley Of The Shadow/The Old Barbed Wire/

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=368znaSHI20

Our great attack had failed, We’d nothing left to give, The wounded hanging on the wire had little time to live; The German shells came screaming down to shred them as they lay, Abandoned in the Valley of the Shadow. The battle ground that night, Would look as bright as day, As fairy flares turned blackness into bitter lifeless gray; The twisted shapes that once were men in senseless patterns lay, The tenants of the Valley of the Shadow. The torn and shattered fields, The bits of wire and steel, No blade of grass or leaf or tree to make the place seem real; An ancient traveller passing by just couldn’t help but say, This surely is the Valley of the Shadow. Let pictures of that scene, Be hung on every wall, In rooms where governments decide if men should stand or fall; They’d never go to war again if leaders had their say, While looking at the Valley of the Shadow.

 

 

Zeke Hoskins 1997

 

Hoskins writes: “The price of liquor is mostly tax. Unsold booze is often kept in a bonded warehouse, meaning the tax hasn’t been paid. When you take whisky out of the warehouse, you have to pay the tax … unless it’s for export, of course. During Prohibition in the U.S., there was a dockside bonded warehouse in Windsor, Ont. (Across the river from Detroit). Men would bring a rowboat to the dock and check out a few cases of whisky. The Customs officer would ask, Are you paying tax, or exporting?” “Exporting”, they would answer. “Where to?” “Valparaiso.” The Customs man would nod and write it down in his book, and away they’d row. Half an hour later, they’d do the same thing again. This is a sea chantey for them. I wrote it on Canada Day, while returning from cross-border shopping for my Dusty Strings Harp. I left the verse about the cat off the recordings”

Zeke Hoskins: “Valparaiso In A Rowboat” (Hoskin) – Zeke Hoskin with Flip Breskin

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MN_ST0KD5vM

Windsor is a lovely port we’re proud to sing about There’s a warehouse full of whisky, though the Yankees do without And when Customs asks us where we’re bound, we ship our oars and shout: “We’re bound for Valparaiso in a rowboat” Chorus Pull your oars! (Pull your oars) We’re on our way! (We’re on our way) With a thousand quarts of whisky bound for Valparaiso bay And we haven’t no intention for to see the USA We’re bound for Valparaiso in a rowboat Some say that for an ocean trip our craft is very small But we bold Canadian lads don’t fear a little Cape Horn squall And a deep sea schooner’s just too big to shoot Niagara Falls We’re bound for Valparaiso in a rowboat Though Michigan is very near and Chile’s very far We are expert navigators, we can steer by any star But the cat pissed on the sextant and we don’t know where we are We’re bound for Valparaiso in a rowboat We’ve sailed for Valparaiso twenty seven times this week But every time we’ve gotten to the mouth of Muddy Creek We’ve had to jettison our cargo ’cause the oarlock sprung a leak We’re bound for Valparaiso in a rowboat Now some sing of Vancouver, of St John and Halifax But those salty water cities, they have nothing Windsor lacks We’ve a doryload of whisky and the muscles in our backs We’re bound for Valparaiso in a rowboat

 

 

Roger Hussey 2005

 

Hussey wrote on Mudcat: “Barry Finn was the first one who learned it — we used to sing it together, alternating verses, Wednesday nights at Cameron’s in Gloucester. The song depicts life on the Norwegian tanker Margaret Unstad, and several months of short back back-and-forth trips between Venezuela and Trinidad. The ship was owned by the husband of skating star Sonja Henie, and their alcoholic son (“Lars” in the song) shipped around with us all over the world. They say this chantey is being sung in England and Australia. There are two middle verses I rarely sing, cuz I think it makes the song go on too long. And the words and tune seem to be evolving over time — OK with me.”

On the Venezuela to Trinidad run Trinidad run Our ship goes to hell, we’re all having way to much fun Way to much fun Chorus Venezuela to Trinidad, Trinidad to Venezuela Venezuela is flamenco and hot guitar strums Trinidad is calypso and loud steel drum Carry crude oil to Trinidad refineries To Venezuela for more crude we run back empty For most tankers it’s long at sea short time in port But we’ve tied up long and our sea time is short When we tie up the bar girls and taxi cabs come Here comes a weekend of riot and rum Lars is locked in his cabin, the rich owner’s son He’s a drunken exile at 31 If we’re rowdy ashore we end up in jailÿ Rum and pesos from Lars and we’re soon out on bail Miss our sailing, hung over, roll over and then Wait a week, stay drunk, and our ship’s back again Beg the purser, please just one more advance What with girls and booze, your wallet does not stand a chance After 8 trips the chief’s at the end of his wits After 10 trips they send us back home to refitÿ So it’s pack up and back to the hiring hall And it’s farewell to flamenco and steel drums all

 

 

Leon Rosselson 1988

 

“I was a frequent guest at the Vancouver Folk Festival during the 1980s. It was unusual in not having any alcohol or corporate funding and in giving everyone, big and small, equal billing. In 1987, Frankie [Armstrong], Roy [Bailey] and myself were honoured to be given the final spot on the Sunday night main stage concert. I wrote this song for us to sing to close the festival. Anyone who knows Hungarian folk will recognise the tune of the chorus. I’d been carrying it around in my head for thirty years before I found a use for it.”

Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/the-voice-that-lives-inside-you

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/the-voice-that-lives-inside-you

When you’re new in the world, you’ve a dream that is wild, And they tame you and mold you, ’til one day, behold, You’re obedient soldiers, commuters, consumers, Reality rules, and there’s no room for dreamers, They teach you your place in the obstacle race With a prize that you chase, always just out of reach, And you’re urged on by megaphone voices that offer you Choices that are not your own. Chorus Only listen for the voice that lives inside you; Like a songbird in a cage, it waits in silence. Find the key to set it free and soaring skyward; Now the sky is filled with voices, hear them sing beside you. When the powers that be in their wisdom decree That you’re no longer needed to feed the machine, The wheel turns, you’re dismissed; if you dare to resist, There are walls, there are laws to confuse you and bruise you. They’ll label you scroungers and wasters and sponges; They’ll call you subversives, reds, traitors, and worse. If you don’t fit the norm, if your ways don’t conform To the rules, then you’re out of the game. The way they’ve arranged things, you think you can’t change things; You’re one, you’re just you; but whatever they do, Don’t forget to remember, you’re a name not a number, And no one can think for you, dream for you, speak for you. Don’t let them bind you down, don’t let them grind you down, Don’t let them mold you, ’til one day, behold, You’re obedient tools, you’re commuters, consumers, And reality rules out your dreams.

 

 

Robert W. Service 

David Perry 

Ian Robb: “My late Friends of Fiddler’s Green bandmate David Parry was a big fan of Scots-Canadian ballad poet Robert W. Service, and he set a fair number of Service’s poems to music, releasing them on a wonderful CD entitled “The Man from Eldorado.” This is one of those, and describes the excruciating dilemma faced by a poor family man who is shamed into volunteering to fight in WW1, a war he doesn’t believe in.”

Ian Robb: https://ianrobb1.bandcamp.com/track/the-volunteer

https://ianrobb1.bandcamp.com/track/the-volunteer

Sez I: My Country calls? Well, let it call! I grins perlitely and declines wiv thanks. Go let ’em plaster every blighted wall; ‘Ere’s one they won’t stampede into the ranks. Them politicians with their greasy ways, Them empire-grabbers, fight for them? No fear! I’ve seen this mess a-coming from the days Of Algyserious and Aggydear. I’ve felt my passion rise and swell, But…wot the ‘ell, Bill? Wot the hell? Sez I: My Country? Mine? I likes their cheek Me mud-bespattered by the cars they drive, Wot makes me measly thirty bob a week And sweats red blood to keep meself alive! Fight for the right to slave that they might spend? Them in their mansions, me ‘ere in me slum? No, let ’em fight wot’s something to defend: But me, I’ve nothing-let the Kaiser come. And so I cusses hard and well, But…wot the ‘ell, Bill? Wot the hell? Sez I: If they would do the decent thing, And shield the missus and the little uns, Why even I might shout “God save the King” And take me chances wiv them ‘ungry guns. But we’ve got three, another on the way; It’s that what makes me scowl and set me jaw The wife and nippers, wot of them, I say, If I get’s knocked out in this blasted war? Get’s proper busted by a shell, But…wot the ‘ell, Bill? Wot the hell? Ah, wot the ‘ell’s the use of all this talk? Today some boys in blue was passin’ me, And some of them they ‘ad no legs to walk, And some of them they ‘ad no eyes to see. And-well, I couldn’t look ’em in the face, And so I’m goin’, goin’ to declare I’m under forty-one, and take me place To face the music with the lads out there. A fool you say? Well, perhaps you’re right. I’ll get no peace until I fight. I’ve ceased to think; I only know I’ve gotta go, Bill, gotta go.

 

 

trad 

 

Crooked Still: Crooked Still – “Wading Deep Waters” [Official Audio]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glP9hwqZfxg

I am wading deep waters trying to get home (x2) I am wading deep waters, wading deep waters Wading deep waters trying to get home I am climbing high mountains trying to get home? I am walking deep valleys trying to get home?

 

 

Terry Conway 1988

 

Last line rewritten by Alex Ellis to make it a little less graphic. Learned from Rowan Lupton.

House Band: Walls of Troy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WHlyrI7iaV4

The banner rides the winds of peace, the pilgrim takes the road To advertise and civilize, and try to spread the gold But the cities fall to hatred’s call, the hero smells the flood To celebrate the nation’s state and dip their hands in blood Chorus: And you’ll hear them come around again Hear the trumpets sound again Hear the drums resound again Beneath the walls of Troy When nations seek to find their friends they first compare their foes And if the list turns out the same a sour alliance grows The patriot must be revered, he has no need to hide But the man of peace is damned unless he’s on the other side You’ll hear them talk of natural laws and population trends They’ll set the wise to rationalize and talk of means and ends They’ll say that man was made to hunt, it’s all part of the game Or maybe they’ll blame religion if they think it clears their name Now all the world’s a patchwork quilt, all nations must be free The hate, the fear, it’s so sincere – it’s all too much for me Your freedom is the right to war, to plunder and to brag To genocide and lie with pride and all to show the flag

 

 

Dale Marxen 1967

 

Gordon Bok writes “In 1967, Dr. Seuss published “My Uncle Terwilliger” in The Cat in the Hat Songbook, with piano score and guitar chords by Eugene Poddany. Inspired by this song, Dale Marxen wrote “Waltzing With Bears,””

Chorus He goes wa-wa-wa-wa, waltzing with bears, Raggy bears, shaggy bears, baggy bears, too. There’s nothing on earth Uncle Walter won’t do, So he can go waltzing, wa-wa-wa-waltzing, So he can go waltzing, waltzing with bears! I crept upstairs in the middle of the night, I tiptoed in, I turned on the light; To my surprise, there was no one in sight, My Uncle Walter goes waltzing at night! We bought Uncle Walter a new coat to wear, When he came in it was covered with hair; Lately I’ve noticed several new tears, I’m afraid Uncle Walter goes waltzing with bears! We told Uncle Walter that he should be good, And do everything that we say he should; I think he would rather be off in the wood, I’m afraid we might lose Uncle Walter for good! We begged and we pleaded, “Please won’t you stay?” We managed to keep him at home for a day; But the bears all barged in and they took him away, Now he’s waltzing with pandas, he can’t understand us, The bears all demand at least one waltz a day!