Category: songs

Mary Garvey 

 

Chorus: I’ve worked all my life in a cannery shed And if I’m dying or you think I’m dead Don’t bury my bones, just put ’em instead In a can in the cannery shed Now the cannery shed perches over the river Where the winter winds blow and you freeze and you shiver When the boss comes around I might have to give her My opinion of the cannery shed We chop off the heads, and we chop off the tails Scoop out the guts, and throw ’em in the pails Won’t get a rest till the next schooner sails From the dock at the cannery shed There’s no time to talk, no time to linger You’d better move sharp or you might lose a finger It’d turn stomach if you knew everything here’s Been canned in the cannery shed LaFaye he went away and he wrote me a letter I tucked it up high in the sleeve of my sweater And it slipped and it fell and landed in the shredder Now it’s canned in the cannery shed Now the cannery boy he’s a very happy fella If he gets him a girl from the little town of Stella I would if I could but I’m not going to tell ya What goes on behind the cannery shed

 

 

trad 

 

Collected from Lena Bourne Fish, 1941. The original words by Thomas Bayley (tune by Sidney Nelson) was written in the 1820s, without whiskers. The whiskers were apparently added during the 1850’s, when such facial adornment became popular. As Mrs. Fish said,”In the good old days, whiskers were deemed to be an emblem of strength and manhood.”

As they marched through the town with their banners so gay I went to the window to hear the band play, And I peeped through the blinds very cautiously then Lest the neighbors should say I was looking at the men. I heard the drum beat and the music so sweet But my eyes at the moment caught a much greater treat, For the troop was the first that ever I did see And the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me. When we met at the ball, I of course thought it right To pretend that we never had met till that night. But he knew me at once, 1 perceived at a glance, So I hung down my head when he asked me to dance. He sat by my side at the end of the set, And the sweet words he told me, I never can forget. For my heart was enlisted and could not get free When the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me. Though he marched from the town, and I saw him no more, Yet I think of him still and the whiskers he wore. I dream all the night, and I talk all the day Of the love of a captain who has gone far away. I remember with superabundant delight When we met in the street, and we danced all the night, And I keep in my mind how my heart jumped with glee When the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me. But there’s hope! For a friend just ten minutes ago Said the captain had returned from the war, and I know He’ll be looking for me with considerable zest, And when he has found me you all know the rest. Perhaps he is here, let me look ’round the house, Keep still every one of you , as still as a mouse. For if that dear captain is here he will be With his whiskers a-taking a sly glance at me.

 

 

trad 

 

Gender/suspender is by Julian Nowogrodski, PhDs may be from Mike Livingston, Corporate giants might be Miriam Attia, most of the rest aside from the first verse and chorus are Chrisiant Bracken’s.

Cape Cod girls ain’t got no combs (heave away, haul away) They comb their hair with codfish bones (and we’re bound for Australia) Chorus: Heave her up me bully bully boys (heave away, haul away) Heave her up and don’t you make a noise (and we’re bound away for Australia) Cape Cod girls ain’t no one’s fools?getting PhDs in codfish schools Cape Cod girls are capable and witty?when they chair the codfish committee Cape Cod girls are corporate giants?they market straight to their codfish clients Cape Cod girls are the smartest and the strongest?passing laws in the codfish congress Cape Cod girls don’t need your opinion?on how they rule the codfish dominion Cape Cod girls are passionate and snarky?when they fight the codfish patriarchy Cape Cod kids don’t need no genders?they wear their skirts with codfish suspenders

 

 

John O’Connor 1980?

 

O’Connor is a founding member of the American Federation of Musicians and a labor historian and organizer.

Early in the morning at the start of the day I force my fingers ’round the handle of the blade. Start in to cuttin’ just as fast as I can. By the end of the day I can hardly move my hands. Chorus I got that old carpal tunnel and my hands won’t move But the foreman tells me to stay in the groove. You cut that cattle as fast as I do, You’ll get that carpal tunnel too. Oh, ten years ago I started in the kill Now ten years later, well, I got my fill. But I keep on cuttin’ though the line’s twice as fast. Well, I don’t know how long these arms will last. I work with a knife and a blade in my hand I cut them cows with a big iron band. But it feels like a knife is cuttin’ me all the time, ‘Cause the carpal tunnel lives in the big nerve line. There ain’t five minutes that passes a man, That he don’t feel the carpal tunnel deep in his hands. He feels it in his fingers and wrists all the time, It’s the curse of the speed upon the carcass line. Now I’ll go in for an operation once more, But I’ll come right back to the killing floor, And I’ll tell them darling children of mine, “Don’t you ever go to work on the packinghouse line.”

 

 

Alex Cumming 2017

 

WBUR 2017: “In retrospect, the Celestial Seasonings’ Create Some Magic Contest may have been tailor made for Alex Cumming. Cumming, a Medford resident, entered the novelty promotional competition on a lark. Entrants were invited to submit an original piece of artwork inspired by the tea brand’s products – and Cumming, it turned out, had already written a song about Celestial Seasonings tea.”

The Teacups: https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/celestial-tea

https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/celestial-tea

Come ladies and come gentlemen, and do gather round I’ll tell you of a substance that’ll make you feel sound It keeps you feeling solid and awake, you do see And when you take a sip, yes, it will fill you with glee! Chorus: Oh, drink it in the morning and the afternoon! And drink it in the evening by the light of the moon Oh, get that teapot ready and you will see You cannot go wrong with a cup of celestial tea! When you’re waking up from a night on the tune You need to feel alive as you have work very soon So go and get the kettle on and set it to boil With a teabag empty cup you will be feeling royal! When you get home from work and you are so full of stress You try to relax, but you feel like a mess TV shows are rubbish cause the mutt drives you mad So put the kettle on and diminish the sad! The sun is shining bright, you have a picnic prepared With sonny’s cakes and biscuits that are all to be shared But everybody knows that picnics just cannot be Without your thermos flask full of your favorite tea! Black tea, white tea, green tea, fruit tea, rooibos as well Just so many flavors, it is so hard to tell Do you have honey and ginger, masala, chai, or just builder’s best? Or chamomile, peppermint, lapsang souchong, or some lemon zest?

 

 

Phil Ochs 

 

Phil Ochs: Changes

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

Sit by my side, come as close as the air Share in a memory of gray And wander in my words Dream about the pictures that I play Of changes Green leaves of summer turn red in the fall To brown and to yellow they fade And then they have to die Trapped within the circle time parade Of changes Scenes of my young years were warm in my mind Visions of shadows that shine ‘Til one day I returned And found they were the victims of the vines Of changes The world’s spinning madly, it drifts in the dark Swings through a hollow of haze A race around the stars A journey through the universe ablaze With changes Moments of magic will glow in the night All fears of the forest are gone But when the morning breaks They’re swept away by golden drops of dawn Of changes Passions will part to a strange melody As fires will sometimes burn cold Like petals in the wind We’re puppets to the silver strings of souls Of changes Your tears will be trembling, now we’re somewhere else One last cup of wine we will pour And I’ll kiss you one more time And leave you on the rolling river shores Of changes

 

 

Rosie Hodgson 2024

Rowan Piggett 

A new protest song written by Rosie & Rowan on an angry car journey. Chanticleer the rooster is associated with the Reynardine myth; in a medieval story Chanticleer outwits Reynardine and escapes unharmed.

The Wilderness Yet: https://thewildernessyet.bandcamp.com/track/chanticleer

https://thewildernessyet.bandcamp.com/track/chanticleer

Chorus Sing then Chanticleer Sleepers arise and to him hark The old ways are falling The herald is calling We’ve been too long in the dark You’d have us lay blame on Reynard the fox Who poaches your game, his belly to fill He takes for need what you keep for greed And kill twice as many with half of his skill. Your bloodhounds they bay and bring down your prey You give them a scent but they’re changing their mark In the midst of the fray, there’ll be a day You’ll find their bite worse than their bark The henhouse is rotten, where you rule the roost Caged in their thousands they lay for their rent They can’t break the locks for fear of the fox They pay with their lives when their youth is all spent. Your sheep have been fleeced of their own right to roam, Penned by old papers and parcels of land, To tighten the tether will but turn wethers To march on your keep and make lions of lambs. Your cattle are lowing, you’re milking them dry, As forests fall fodder to ranches and byres The cream of the crop they skim off the top And as stubborn as bulls, heap fuel on the fires. Old Dobbin in harness is toeing the line He’s first past the post though he’s dragging behind To follow the whip and swallow the bit Will see us all yoked to the blinkered and blind.ÿ

 

 

John Kirkpatrick 1995

 

“Just when you were enjoying all that pagan imagery, here comes a full blown statement of the Christmas story. But without any disrespect to anyone’s beliefs, it is worth noting that the symbol of a baby being born in the middle of winter, bringing the promise of new life, new hope, a new start, is so potent that it crops up in Ancient Egypt, Ancient Greece, Ancient Rome, and many other non-Christian cultures. The new birth represents the return of the Unconquered Sun, the giver of life and light. Chariots is the second song commissioned for the “Wassail!” project by Folkworks.”

Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/chariots

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/chariots

O Shepherd o shepherd come leave off your piping Come listen come learn come hear what I say For now is the time that has long been forespoken For now is the time there’ll be new tunes to play For soon there comes one who brings a new music Of sweetness and clarity none can compare So open your heart for heavenly harmony Here on this hill will be filling the air Chorus: With chariots of cherubim chanting And seraphim singing Hosanna And a choir of archangels a-carolling come Hallelujah Hallelu All the angels a-trumpeting glory In praise of the Prince of Peace See on yon stable the starlight is shimmering And glimmering and glistening and glowing with glee In Bethlehem blest this baby of bliss will be Born here before you as bold as can be And you’ll be the first to hear the new symphony Songs full of gladness and glory and light So learn your tunes well and play your pipes proudly For the Prince of Paradise plays here tonight Bring your sheep bleating to this happy meeting To hear how the lamb with the lion shall lie It’s mooing and braying you’ll hear the song saying The humble and lowly will be the most high Let the horn of the herdsman be heard up in heaven For the gates are flung open for all who come near And the simplest of souls shall sing to infinity Lift up and listen and you shall hear The warmonger’s charger will thunder for freedom The gun-maker’s furnace will dwindle and die And muskets and sabers and swords shall be sundered Surrendered to the sound that is sweeping the sky And the shoes of the mighty shall dance to new measures And the jackboots of generals shall jangle no more As sister and brother and father and mother Agree with each other the end to all war As a candle can conquer the demons of darkness As a flame can keep frost from the deepest of cold So a song can give hope in the depths of all danger And a line of pure melody soar in your soul So sing your songs well and sing your songs sweetly And swear that your singing it never shall cease So the clatter of battle and drums of disaster Be drowned in the sound of the pipes of peace

 

 

Woodie Brothers 

 

Well, I got no skillet and I got no lid And the ash cake tastes like shortening bread I’m gonna wear that starry crown over there Chorus: Over there, over there I’m gonna wear that starry crown over there Well I got no skillet, I got no lid Ashcake tastes like shortenin’ bread! I’m gonna wear that starry crown over there Well I met old Satan down the lane And I hit him in the head with a walking cane I’m gonna wear that starry crown over there Well I run old Satan round the stump I give him a kick with every jump I’m gonna wear that starry crown over there Well I ran old Satan through the door Hit him in the head with a two-by-four I’m gonna wear that starry crown over there

 

 

Ron Angel 1964

 

Ron Angel: Chemical Workers Song – Ron Angel (original version)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t1rOAMxSLVE

Chorus: And it’s go boys go They’ll time your every breath And every day you’re in this place You’re two days nearer death, But you go… Well a process man am I and I’m telling you no lie, I work and breath among the fumes that trail across the sky. There’s thunder all around me and there’s poison in the air, There’s a lousy smell that smacks o’ hell and dust all in my hair. I’ve worked among the spinners, and I’ve breathed the oily smoke, I’ve shovelled up the gypsum and it nigh on makes you choke. I’ve stood knee deep in cyanide, been sick with a caustic burn, Been working rough I’ve seen enough to make your stomach turn. Well there’s overtime and bonus opportunities galore, The young lads like their money and they all come back for more. But soon you’re knocking on and you look older than you should, For every bob made on the job you’ll pay with flesh and blood.