Category: songs

Stan Rogers 1977

We were drinking down to Reedy’s house When first we heard the blow
It seemed to come from Ripper Rock So boldly forth to go
And sure enough the rusty tub Could just be barely seen
As her stern was high up in the air We made out Athens Queen
O, the lovely Athens Queen

Me boys I must remind you There’s a bottle left inside
So let us go and have a few And wait until low tide
And if the sea’s not claimed her When the glasses are licked clean
We will then set forth some dories lads And see what may be seen
On the lovely Athens Queen

Some songs and old tall stories then Came out to pass the time
Nor could a single bottle Keep us all until low tide
And so it was before we left The house we were at sea
So we scarcely can remember How we made the Athens Queen
O, the lovely Athens Queen

O the waves inside me belly Were as high as those outside
And though I’m never seasick I lost dinner overside
T’was well there was no crew to save For we’d have scared ’em green
We could scarcely keep ourselves From falling off the Athens Queen
O, the lovely Athens Queen

Well Reedy goes straight down below And comes up with a cow
Hello I said now what would you Be wantin’ with that now
You’ll never take the cow home In a dory on such sea
Well me friend he says I’ve always fancied Fresh cream in me tea
For the lovely Athens Queen

I headed for the galley then Cause I was rather dry
And glad I was to get there quick For what should I spy
O what a shame it would have been For to lose it all at sea
Forty cases of the best Napolean Brandy ever seen
On the lovely Athens Queen

I loaded twenty cases boys Then headed for the shore
Unloaded them as quick as that And then pulled back for more
Smith was pullin’ for the shore But he could scarce be seen
Under near two hundred chickens And a leather couch of green
From the lovely Athens Queen

So here’s to all good salvagers Likewise to Ripper Rock
And to Napolean brandy of which Now we have much stock
We eat a lot of chicken And sit on a couch of green
And we wait for Ripper Rock To claim another Athens Queen
O, the lovely Athens Queen 

Gordon Lightfoot 1976

Wikipedia: Lightfoot drew inspiration from news reports he gathered in the immediate aftermath of the incident on November 10, 1975. Recorded before the ship's wreckage had been studied, the song reflects some speculation about how the disaster transpired. In 2010, Lightfoot changed a line ('At 7 p.m. it grew dark, it was then he said') to reflect new findings about how the ship had foundered, and also changed 'musty old hall' (referring to 'the Maritime Sailors' Cathedral' or the Mariners' Church of Detroit) to 'rustic old hall'.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the big lake they called “Gitche Gumee.”
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed when the “Gales of November” came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
And later that night when the ship’s bell rang, could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev’ry man knew, as the captain did too ’twas the witch of November come stealin’.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait when the Gales of November came slashin’.
When afternoon came it was freezin’ rain in the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck Sayin’ “Fellas, it’s too rough t’feed ya.”
At 7 p.m., it grew dark, it was then he said, “Fellas, it’s bin good t’know ya!”
The captain wired in he had water comin’ in and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay if they’d put fifteen more miles behind ‘er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized; they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man’s dreams; the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know with the Gales of November remembered.

In a rustic old hall in Detroit they prayed, in the “Maritime Sailors’ Cathedral.”
The church bell chimed ’til it rang twenty-nine times for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the big lake they call “Gitche Gumee.”
“Superior,” they said, “never gives up her dead when the gales of November come early!” 

Cathal McConnell? 

A fitful sleep the landlord had
‘Mid din and chattin’, not of his choosin’
His daughter ’til the morning light
Abused all those who sit there boozin’

Chorus:
There’s the day, it’s not the day
It is the day, the night is over
It’s not the day, whate’er you say
It’s only the moon to guide the rover

Come landlord join us in the snug
All drowsy thoughts of slumber scornin’
There’s not one drop of jar nor jug
That we won’t drain before the morning

I’ll stay in bed the landlord said
For if I get up, you’ll go quicker
So drink your fill of swipes and swill
Oh, but not one drop of my good liquor

Oh this landlord has my socks and shoes
This tavern has my coat and britches
By morning I’ve no more to lose
And I’ll go and sleep among the ditches

But I’ve money left to treat a friend
Here’s my last guinea upon the table
So let’s tilt the barrels upon their ends
And lets be drinking whilest we’re able 

Ian Robb 1990

"They're Taking it Away was first penned in protest at a Canadian federal budget brought down in February 1990, which showed the way for many subsequent attacks on social programs by our various levels of government of all political stripes. It's the same the 'ole world over." 3rd and 4th verses tweaked by Alex Ellis.

Ian Robb: https://ianrobb1.bandcamp.com/track/theyre-taking-it-away

Chorus:
Oh, they’re taking it away, yes they’re taking it away
They are taking all the good things you can hear the people say
And they’ll take it all tomorrow if they don’t take it today
From the poor and sick and helpless, they are taking it away.

Oh our government’s elected in the democratic way
A-whining at the cost of all the things they have to pay
And the bully-boys on Wall Street, you can hear the bastards say,
“To hell with paying taxes, pull the safety-net away!”

If you’re down upon your luck and need to keep the wolf at bay
Just don’t rely on welfare or the dole to pay your way
For the rich, they have decided not another cent to pay
You can whistle for your supper for they’ve taken it away

If you’re native, black, or Asian, if you’re feminist or gay
If you’re pregnant or an immigrant or if you’re hair’s gone gray
If you want to make your point or if you want to have your way
You can spit into the wind for they have taken it away

If you fled domestic violence and you need a place to stay
You’d best get down upon your knees and quickly learn to pray
For the victims’ service agency was shut down yesterday
And there’s no-one left to talk to, now they’ve taken it away

If it’s ever your misfortune in a hospital to stay
You’d best not be impatient for a bed on which to lay
For your health ain’t worth the taxes that the healthy have to pay
And the beds were too expensive, so they’ve taken them away

Oh there’s those that have and those that don’t and those that are okay
And there’s those who understand that fairness is the only way
But there’s those that are so comfortable they look the other way
And they vote for all the villains who would take it all away 

Woody Guthrie 1940

Chorus:
This land is your land, this land is my land
From California to the New York island,
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters;
This land was made for you and me.

As I was walking that ribbon of highway
I saw above me that endless skyway;
I saw below me that golden valley;
This land was made for you and me.

I’ve roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
And all around me a voice was sounding;
This land was made for you and me.

When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
This land was made for you and me.

As I went walking I saw a sign there,
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.”
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing.
That side was made for you and me.

In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
By the relief office I seen my people;
As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
Is this land made for you and me?

Nobody living can ever stop me,
As I go walking that freedom highway;
Nobody living can ever make me turn back
This land was made for you and me. 

The Amidons

Part 1: This longest night your candle’s light

Part 2: Keep watch over all the earth

Part 3: Welcome hope and cheer as dawn draws near

Part 4: And rejoice rejoice in the sun’s rebirth

 

 

Dougie MacLean 1985

It’s a thin line that leads us and keeps a man from shame
And dark clouds quickly gather along the way he came
There’s fear out on the mountain and death out on the plain
There’s heartbreak and heart-ache in the shadow of the flame

Chorus:
This love will carry This love will carry me
I know this love will carry me

The strongest web will tangle, the sweetest bloom will fall
And somewhere in the distance we try and catch it all
Success lasts for a moment and failure’s always near
And you look down at your blistered hands as turns another year

These days are golden, they must not waste away
Our time is like that flower and soon it will decay
And though by storms we’re weakened, uncertainty is sure
And like the coming of the dawn it’s ours for evermore 

Tom Chapin 1988

Part 1: This pretty planet, spinning through space: your garden, your harbor, your holy place

Part 2: Golden sun going down, gentle blue giant spin us around

Part 3: All through the night, safe ’til the morning light. 

trad 

Copper Family recorded in 1952; A.L. Lloyd wrote in 1971 that it was written by a Samuel Arnold around 1800

The time passes over most cheerful and gay
Since we’ve learned a new act to drive sorrows away

Chorus:
Sorrows away (3x)
Since we’ve learned a new act to drive sorrows away

Bright Phoebe awakes so high up in the sky
With her red rosy cheeks and sparkling eye

If you ask for my credit you’ll find I have none
With my bottle and friends you will find me at home

Although I’m not rich and although I’m not poor
I’m as happy as those that’s got thousands or more 

trad 

George 'Pop' Maynard recorded in 1956 and that recording says the song is probably a stage remake of a song which appeared in Ravenscroft's Deuteromelia of 1609. The Watersons recorded in 1965 for which Bert Lloyd wrote "Versions of this old nursery song are spread from Scotland to Sussex, and it has even cropped up as a ritual piece in one or two sword-dance plays. It's hard to say how old it is, but it seems to have first appeared in print in Gammer Gurton's Garland at the end of the eighteenth century, though doubtless it has been on the go long before then."

In good King Arthur’s day when we lived under the King,
Three roguish chaps fell into mishaps because they could not sing

Chorus (from last line of each verse)
Because they could not sing, because they could not sing,
Three roguish chaps fell into mishaps because they could not sing.

The first one was a miller, the second one was a weaver,
And the third he was a little tailor, three roguish chaps together.

The miller he stole corn. The weaver he stole yarn.
And the little tailor he stole broadcloth, to keep the three rogues warm.

The miller he drowned in his dam, and the weaver got hung in his yarn,
And the devil put his claw on the little tailor with the broadcloth under his arm.

The miller still drowns in his dam, and the weaver still hangs in his yarn,
And the little tailor he skips through hell with the broadcloth under his arm.