Category: songs

Lissa Schneckenburger 2003

 

Chorus: Dance me to heaven while the stars dance around the earth Pay me in moonshine if you must for what this evening’s worth Warm me with fire from your eyes, wrap me in arms that hold Tell me in whispers of the things that can’t be bought or sold If there’s tomorrow, tell me days are not numbered here If I am with you, will you hold my hand? If I should fall, well, we’re going down If I should, we’re falling to? The backdrop, ah, the streets I see Blacktop pavement and a night where we Took that road for company I was dying inside each time you smiled at me And there we, yeah, well there we were Sitting just us two inside a crowd for sure The walls were red and the music played I sat by your side and the candlelight made you The morning, as the night wore out Stumbling to bed seemed like the only route We closed our eyes, and the sun it rose In your arms I found a soft repose And now that, now we’ve come and gone I find the sweetest thoughts of you are bound to linger on And whether it was meant to be I am dreaming of a time when again you will

 

 

Pete Sutherland 1991

 

In the time of the sorrowful famine year When the crops were scanty and bread was dear, The good squire’s fertile and sheltered farm In his valley nestled secure from harm And the summer winds blew with an icy breath In 1800 and Froze to Death. And the buyers gathered with eager greed To speculate on the poor man’s need. But the good squire said, “It is all in vain. No one with money can buy my grain. But they who are hungry may come and take Their ample store for the giver’s sake.” That good old man to his rest is gone But his fame still lingers in the golden corn. For every year in its ripening grain That grand old story is told again, How the summer winds blew with an icy breath In 1800 and Froze to Death.

 

 

John Kirkpatrick 2006

 

In celebration of the two hundredth anniversary of the birth of Isambard Kingdom Brunel. The GWR company was created in 1833 with Brunel as its engineer, and construction was completed in 1886.

Alex Cumming: Alex Cumming – Bright String of Pearls

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YiC8UjM_x8o

Your Majesty, I present to you a gift that’s rare and fine In all the Tower of London no brighter jewel could shine A string of pearls laid out for you, it’s fitting for a Queen And threaded along a railway line, and polished in the steam Chorus: Oh a Bright String of Pearls laid out across the country From the capital down to Cornwall, from the city to the shore The finest towns are newly crowned with even greater glory For the Great Western Railway joins them up for evermore. From Paddington down to Bristol it’s as smooth as a bowling green With bridges and tunnels and viaducts, the sweetest ever seen Through Slough and Reading and Didcot, rolling on to Swindon Town That’s where we built our railway works, the jewel in our crown We’ve branches go up to Oxford and to Gloucester and to Wales And right across to Fishguard where the Irish ferry sails Down through Frome and on to Yeovil, and to Weymouth, and to Chard How all these places prosper now they have a railway yard! Chippenham next, and onwards, there’s a test for an engineer! With arches and embankments, riding high for two miles clear And Box the largest tunnel for trains, it’s nearly two miles long And to enter Bath in the finest style, we moved the canal along There’s eleven short miles to run from Bath to Bristol Temple Meads Two viaducts, seven tunnels, and five bridges is all it needs! From there we’ll fly to Taunton, down to Exeter and the sea And along the coast to Dawlish, and in Plymouth then we’ll be You rattle across the Royal Albert Bridge and Cornwall comes in view Through Truro down to old Penzance, and so our journey’s through So there we are, Your Majesty, you darlingest of girls Laid out across the counties is your bright string of pearls

 

 

Rudyard Kipling 1919

Peter Bellamy 1982

Peter Bellamy: Peter Bellamy – A Pilgrim’s Way

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eytb5rPunZE

I do not look for holy saints to guide me on my way, Or male and female devilkins to lead my feet astray. If these are added, I rejoice-if not, I shall not mind, So long as I have leave and choice to meet my fellow-kind. ÿAnd as we come and as we go (and deadly-soon go we!) ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! Thus I will honour pious men whose virtue shines so bright (Though none are more amazed than I when I by chance do right), And I will pity foolish men for woe their sins have bred (Though ninety-nine per cent of mine I brought on my own head). ÿAnd, Amorite or Eremite, or General Averagee, ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! And when they bore me overmuch, I will not shake mine ears, Recalling many thousand such whom I have bored to tears. And when they labour to impress, I will not doubt nor scoff; Since I myself have done no less and-sometimes pulled it off. ÿYes, as we are and we are not, and we pretend to be, ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! And when they work me random wrong, as often-times hath been, I will not cherish hate too long (my hands are none too clean). And when they do me random good I will not feign surprise. No more than those whom I have cheered with wayside courtesies. ÿBut, as we give and as we take-whate’er our takings be- ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! But when I meet with frantic folk who sinfully declare There is no pardon for their sin, the same I will not spare Till I have proved that Heaven and Hell which in our hearts we have Show nothing irredeemable on either side the grave. ÿFor as we live and as we die-if utter Death there be- ÿThe people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me! Deliver me from every pride-the Middle, High, and Low- That bars me from a brother’s side, whatever pride he show. And purge from me all heresies of thought and speech and pen That bid me judge him otherwise than I am judged. Amen! ÿThat I may sing of Crowd or King or road-borne company, ÿThat I may labour in my day, vocation and degree, ÿTo prove the same in deed and name, and hold unshakenly ÿ(Where’er I go, whate’er I know, whoe’er my neighbour be) ÿThis single faith in Life and Death and to Eternity: ÿ”The people, Lord, Thy people, are good enough for me!”

 

 

Tom Chapin 1990

John Forster 

Tom Chapin: A Song of One

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7RiqjXLSaI

Sing a song of One, one for the yellow sun, The yellow sun that’s shining down on everyone. Sing a song of Two, two for the sky of blue, The sky of blue that shouts “Halloo” To the yellow sun? Sing a song of Three, Three for the redwood tree, The redwood tree that stretches high, High into the sky of blue? Sing a song of Four, Four for the sandy shore, The sandy shore that joins the lea, The lea where grows the redwood tree, The redwood tree that stretches high? Sing a song of Five, five for the things alive, Alive to leap and soar, And dance along the shore, The sandy shore that joins the lea?

 

 

Nancy Kerr 2019

 

For Rosa Luxemburg; inspired by the rosemary tree in Kerr’s back garden. One of her kids fell in it and smelled like a lamb dinner for weeks afterward. Luxemburg was a significant Marxist political theorist of the early 20th century. She was born Jewish in Poland but worked mostly in Germany, where she was prominent in international socialist coordination. Wikipedia: “An anti-imperialist, anti-militarist, and foremost thinker of democracy within the Marxist tradition, she is best known for her writing and her revolutionary leadership in 1918-1919” during which she was executed.

Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/a-strange-time-to-bloom

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/a-strange-time-to-bloom

Sweet rosemary flowers, what a ?strange ?time ?for ?bloomingÿ I thought her like a rosebud seen only in June?ÿ In coarse January with springtime a memoryÿ What a ?strange ?time ?for levity, what a? strange time ?to ?bloom?ÿ Chorus: For we’ve been? too long crying lamenting and sighingÿ For loves that have wandered and might be home soonÿ Though winter it glowers and the rich steal our powersÿ Sweet rosemary flowers, what a? strange ?time ?to ?bloom.ÿ Perhaps she laments for the loss of a true loveÿ And wishes? to? woo if they ever return?ÿ Perhaps she remembers our comrades who hunger For a garden of flowers, for the freedom of a bird?ÿ Perhaps in the darkness, the moonlight, the quietÿ The wounded our riotous roots may exhume?ÿ To ?grant when awoken? to? longings unspoken?ÿ To ?hearts that are broken, their? strange ?time ?to ?bloom?ÿ Sweet rosemary flowers, what a ?strange ?time? for? blooming?ÿ I thought her like a rosebud seen only in Juneÿ But springtime or autumn, grant all hearts a gardenÿ And all Rosa’s children their? strange? time ?to ?bloom.

 

 

Leon Rosselson 1977

 

Coppe (1619 – 1672) was one of the English Ranters and a writer of prophetic religious pamphlets. The Ranters rejected all forms of authority, and denied the existence of sin, maybe thinking predestination meant you’re already saved or you aren’t, so you might as well get drunk and sleep around while you’re waiting to find out which. His “Fiery Flying Roll” of 1649, a (highly heretical) tirade against inequality and hypocrisy which vividly evokes the charged and visionary atmosphere that swept over England during this period. Coppe combined an egalitarian social vision with an apocalyptic religious one. Nancy Kerr says he was anti-poverty and pro-pleasure, so everyone hated him basically. Rosselson wrote “The Ranters were the anarcho-hippies of the English Revolution, and this is the true story of the most flamboyant of them.”

Nancy Kerr & James Fagan from Roy Bailey’s Tribute Concert: https://towerseyfestival.bandcamp.com/track/abiezer-coppe

https://towerseyfestival.bandcamp.com/track/abiezer-coppe

Abiezer Coppe did away with sin My body is my church he said, God’s dwelling is within All I do is holy, Abiezer cried Gave his loving freely, A ranter ’til he died Chorus: So drink a loving cup To Abiezer, Abiezer He’s a drinking, dancing, roaring ranterÿ Abiezer Coppe, Abiezer Coppe A pox upon the pious and on what the scriptures preach I’d sooner hear a tinker curse than hear a vicar preach Nameless in his pleasures, he drank and smoked and swore Embracing as his fellow creatures beggar, thief and whore The righteous said the devil will take Coppe and his kind The devil is God’s backside, said Coppe, and hell’s a state of mind Women are the only heaven, marriage is the only hell Abiezer Coppe, knew it very well Through the streets of London , Abiezer came Heard the hungry cries for bread, he was a soul in pain When the nobles in their coaches passed he charged with wild eyes And gnashed his teeth in anger and roared out to the sky; How, how you rich nobles, you will reap soon what you sow For the day of doom is coming that will lay the mighty low And your properties will canker, and your houses will decay And the rust of all your silver will burn your flesh away Community in all things, Abiezer said The naked shall have clothing, the hungry shall have bread The great man jails the compass, the rich man starves the poor Without property, said Abiezer, theft would be no more Accused by church and parliament, attacked on every side They banned his books and burned them, and he was seized and tried The magistrates condemned him for vile blasphemy He pelted them with nutshells crying ‘will you my judges be’ And so to jail they took him, the ranters dream was dead He had no taste for martyrdom, I will repent he said I banish sin and I have learnt it cannot be denied That these are sins; greed, tyranny, hypocrisy and pride Abiezer Coppe, did away with sin,ÿ My body is my church he said, God’s dwelling is within History disowned him, his ghost they cannot kill It haunts the rich and righteous, drunk and dancing still

 

 

 

 

Roberts & Barrand: https://johnroberts1.bandcamp.com/track/adieu-sweet-lovely-nancy

https://johnroberts1.bandcamp.com/track/adieu-sweet-lovely-nancy

Here’s adieu, sweet lovely Nancy, ten thousand times adieu, I’m a-going around the ocean, love, to seek for something new. Come change your ring with me, dear girl, Come change your ring with me, For it might be a token of true love while I am on the sea. When I am far upon the sea you knows not where I am. Kind letters I will write to you from every foreign land. The secrets of your mind, dear girl, Are the best of my good will, So let my body be where it might, my heart is with you still. There’s a heavy storm a-rising, see how it gather round, While we poor sailors are on the sea, are fighting for the crown. Our officers commanded us And them we must obey, Expecting every moment for to get cast away. There are tinkers, tailors and shoemakers, lie snoring in their sleep, While we poor souls on the ocean wide are ploughing through the deep. There’s nothing to defend us, love, Nor to keep us from the cold, On the ocean wide, where we must bide like jolly seamen bold. But when the wars are all over there’ll be peace on every shore, We will drink to our wives and our children and the girls that we adore. We’ll call for liquor merrily, And spend our money free, And when our money it is all gone we’ll boldly go to sea.

 

 

Hamish Maclaren 1930

 

Tune by Paul Davenport

The Teacups: https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/agamemnon

https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/agamemnon

Where is Henry Adams now, that planned the Agamemnon? Foundered on the River Plate, in Maldonaldos Bay. Oak and iron blood of her, his fine one, his darling, Sink him in his hammock, boys, he’s gone far away!ÿ Where are all the Beaulieu boys, that built the Agamemnon? Let them lie ‘neath waving grass, contented where they lay. Swords and swinging riveters, their sounds will not be waking them, Sink them in their hammocks, boys, they’ve gone far away!ÿ Where is Captain Nelson now, that sailed the Agamemnon? Fought and beat the Spanish crews in Cape St Vincent Bay – Oak and iron blood of her, his fine one, his darling,- Broach the keg of brandy, boys, and send him far away!ÿ Where are all the jolly tars, that crewed the Agamemnon? Men for whom the carronades were less hard work than play. Oak and iron blood were they, and every girl a darling, Sink them in their hammocks, lads, they’ve gone far away!ÿ Sing the shanty loud, my boys, we’ll rouse the Agamemnon! Stamp it round her capstan and her anchor we will weigh. Where are all the wooden walls, the cloud of sails a-bearing, They’re foundered, sunk or broken, and they’ve gone far away!ÿ

 

 

trad 

 

Often credited to itinerant Appalachian preacher Claude Ely who said he made it up while seriously ill at age 12. He didn’t, though, as a closely similar song was according to Debi Simons “printed in a 1933 hymnal from the Church of God in Christ, a predominantly Black Pentecostal-Holiness denomination to which the Ely family had close ties. And that written version was probably preceded by a long oral tradition, since variations of the phrase in the title may have been used in spirituals dating back to before the Civil War. The safest guess is that “Ain’t No Grave” was, in some form, a traditional sacred song that served as a kind of template around which singers could come up with their own riffs.”

Chorus: There ain’t no grave Can hold my body down (x2) When I hear that trumpet sound I’m going to rise right out of the ground Ain’t no grave Can hold my body down Well, look way down the river And what do you think I see I see a band of angels And they’re coming after me Well, look down yonder, Gabriel Put your feet on the land and sea But Gabriel, don’t you blow your trumpet Until you hear from me Well meet me, Jesus, meet me Meet me in the middle of the air And if these wings don’t fail me I will meet you anywhere Well meet me, Mother and Father Meet me down the river road And Mama, you know that I’ll be there When I check in my load