Jim Boyes 1993
Soaring skywards, leaping sideways
Do or die words cleave the air
Joy and laughter morning after
Raise the rafters we don’t care
If the roof’s beyond repair
Sisters brothers to all others
Let that be our guiding star
Hearts on fire but no Messiah
Hear the music from afar
What we say is what we are
Over hills and over valleys
Over mountains over seas
Nations shouting unto nations
Until nations cease to be
Unison in harmony
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."
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
trad
Archie Fisher recorded in 1976 on The Man With a Rhyme, where he wrote: "A song that puts very succinctly the penalties and shame incurred from the sowing of wild oats. Most versions, including this one, are from the Herd manuscripts."
As I cam’ in by Fisherrow, Musselburgh was near me.
I threw off my mussel pyock and courted wi’ my dearie.
Chorus:
Upstairs, downstairs, timmer stairs fears me;
I thocht it wrang tae lie my lane when I’m sae near my dearie.
Nao, had her apron bidden doon the kirk would ne’er a-ken’t it,
But now the news gaes through the toon; I fear I canna mend it.
And she maun tak’ the cutty stool, and I maun hae the pillar’,
And that’s the way the poor folks dae, because they hae nae siller.
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"
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
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 jail
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
After 8 trips the chief’s at the end of his wits
After 10 trips they send us back home to refit
So it’s pack up and back to the hiring hall
And it’s farewell to flamenco and steel drums all
trad
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…
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!
Hannah Martin & Phil Henry 2018
"A song about accents, and the creeping homogenisation of the modern world; about the shapes of lives formed by capitalism, removed from the land; about how home should be defined by the work you put into building it, not by chance of birth place. A song of belonging, and of welcome."
Chorus:
It’s not about your blood or the mud around your bones
But the toil of your hands and the seeds they have sown
The roots that you dig when you make your home
For feet were made to wander
I have a love for the land that I’ve known
For the trees and fields by the sea where I’ve grown
But I believe you should choose where you make your home
For feet were made to wander
My father’s father left the west when the war led him to roam
His children they forgot the tongue that had been their father’s home
The shapes of words were broken, by the city’s endless roar
And the lines of accent spoken told their stories no more
Clearance and enclosure took our fathers from the land
They forgot their tongues, forgot the sun on their backs
They did not know their brothers, so how could they lend a hand?
They did not know themselves, so how could they make a stand?
Plants that know how to survive throw seeds to the wind
They put down roots in the place they thrive – that’s where they belong
They make a wild garden, singing in the heart of town
Such beautiful, varied weeds, they’re hard to trample down
Fred Small 1991
In a dry world in a barren world
Water, people need water
In the desert night around the dying light
Fitful sleepers dream of water
And peaceful tribes rule their lives
By water
And seething hordes raise their swords
And kill for water
In a world of drought
Water is lord of all
In a driven world in a plastic world
Oil, we drill for oil
All the meek and the mean choose their dream machines
Line up for oil, we shoot up oil
And nation states stake their fate
On the price of oil
While their obedient sons prime their guns
And kill for oil In a rundown world
Oil is lord of all
Bridge:
Oh there’s gotta be more than this
The drudging dance, the obscene kiss
Oh there’s gotta be some way out
A smile, a shout
In a hurting world in a hating world
Love, we reach for love
In the restless heat of sweat-stained sheets
We strain for love, cry out for love
In a child’s look an open book
And every page is love
And pushed to shove we kill for love
We cannot kill for love
We cannot kill for love
We cannot kill love
In a desert world
In a driven world
In a doubting world
Love is lord of all
Love is lord of all
trad
"A Welsh song found in Peter Kennedy's compilation Folksongs of Britain and Ireland. The last verse was added in honor of our close friends and newlyweds, Molly and Alex Ellis. Although we were not able to attend their wedding (they'll never let us live it down!), we hope this little gift will help them to forget to remind us of our absence from their big day."
The Vox Hunters: https://thevoxhunters.bandcamp.com/track/was-you-ever-see
There was John and Jane and Betsy
Eatin’ buns and drinkin’ whiskey
Dancing jigs upon the fiddle
Up the sides and down the middle
Chorus:
Was you ever see (x3)
Such a jolly time before
I was got a brother Joe
He was came from Calico
He was got to Chester College
For to have a bit of knowledge
I was got a sister Bella
She was courtin’ with umbrella
She would think so much about it
She was never go without it
She was stricken strikin’ whistle
Making noise just like the devil
Darby Jones of Ponticellen
Come to see the oaken railway
There was Alex there was Molly
With their smiles bright and jolly
Flying fearless in fine fettle
With a foot upon each pedal