Category: songs

Emma Azelborn 2021

"I wrote this chorus after a joyous musical reunion with dear friends, when we had just begun seeing each other again after the isolation of early covid. Finally, after so long singing to screens in empty rooms, we could sing harmonies together again."

Emma Azelborn: https://emmaazelborn.bandcamp.com/track/when-we-sing-together

My friends we have traveled far to gather here today
The light is dim, the shadows long our time is slipping away
Our voices blend so easily just like they always do
As we join again in joyful song and let it bring us through

Chorus:
When we sing together it’s like we were never alone
We want to forever believe our music will ring where green things grow
We know it’ll fade so we sing ever stronger, fill up our hearts with home
When we sing together it’s like we were never alone

The air, how it shimmers as we sing in harmony
And we can feel the floorboards shaking underneath our feet
We lean against each other and pretend it’ll never end
For we’ve built this song together and we’ll sing it once again

No matter how much we try this moment cannot stay
Our songs will turn to silence and we’ll go our separate ways
The heartache it will have us as it ever has before
Cause we cannot know where we will go or when we’ll meet once more

And now when we’re in the world, the little things we see
Can bring to mind our times gone by, the ghosts of harmony
The rumbling train, the evening light, a warm cup of tea held near
We all carry with us memories like those we’re making here 

Florence Reece 1931

Wikipedia: "In 1931, miners and mine owners in southeastern Kentucky were engaged in a labor struggle called the Harlan County War. In an attempt to intimidate the family of union leader Sam Reece, Sheriff J. H. Blair and his men, hired by the mining company, illegally entered Reece's home in search of him. Reece had been warned and escaped but his wife, Florence, and their children were in the house. That night, after the men had gone, Florence wrote these words on a calendar that hung in their kitchen. She claims to have borrowed the melody from a traditional Baptist hymn, 'Lay the Lily Low'"

Come all of you good workers Good news to you I’ll tell
Of how the good ol’ union Has come in here to dwell

Chorus: Which side are you on? (x2)

My daddy was a miner And I’m a miner’s son
And I’ll stick with the union ‘Til every battle’s won

They say in Harlan County There are no neutrals there
You’ll either be a union man Or a thug for J. H. Blair

Oh, workers can you stand it? Oh, tell me how you can
Will you be a lousy scab Or will you be a man?

Don’t scab for the bosses Don’t listen to their lies
Us poor folks haven’t got a chance Unless we organize 

Nigel Russell 1973?

Russell was an early bandmate of Stan Rogers, whom he met in college and with whom he had a folk group called The Hobbits. Mudcat says Russell dedicated the song to the city of Bramalea, Ontario. 1973 is when Russell left Rogers' band.

Well, I rise up every morning at a quarter to eight
Some woman who’s my wife tells me not to be late
I kiss the kids goodbye, I can’t remember their names
And week after week, it’s always the same

Chorus:
And it’s Ho, boys, can’t you code it, and program it right
Nothing ever happens in the life of mine
I’m pounding out the data on the Xerox line

Then it’s code in the data, give the keyboard a punch
Then cross-correlate and break for some lunch
Correlate, tabulate, process and screen
Program, printout, regress to the mean

Then it’s home again, eat again, watch some TV
Make love to my woman at ten-fifty-three
I dream the same dream when I’m sleeping at night
I’m soaring over hills like an eagle in flight

Someday I’m gonna give up all the buttons and things
I’ll punch that time clock till it can’t ring
Burn up my necktie and set myself free
Cause no one’s gonna fold, bend or mutilate me 

Stan Rogers 1981

Now it’s just my luck to have the watch, with nothing left to do
But watch the deadly waters glide as we roll north to the Soo,
And wonder when they’ll turn again and pitch us to the rail
And whirl off one more youngster in the gale.

The kid was so damned eager. It was all so big and new.
You never had to tell him twice, or find him work to do.
And evenings on the mess deck he was always first to sing,
And show us pictures of the girl he’d wed in spring.

Chorus:
But I told that kid a hundred times “Don’t take the Lakes for granted.
They go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted.”
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
And her lover’s gone into a white squall.

Now it’s a thing that us old-timers know. In a sultry summer calm
There comes a blow from nowhere, and it goes off like a bomb.
And a fifteen thousand tonne’r can be thrown upon her beam
While the gale takes all before it with a scream.

The kid was on the hatches, lying staring at the sky.
From where I stood I swear I could see tears fall from his eyes.
So I hadn’t the heart to tell him that he should be on a line,
Even on a night so warm and fine.

When it struck, he sat up with a start. I roared to him, “Get down!”
But for all that he could hear, I could as well not made a sound.
So, I clung there to the stanchions, and I felt my face go pale,
As he crawled hand over hand along the rail.

I could feel her keeling over with the fury of the blow.
I watched the rail go under then, so terrible and slow.
Then, like some great dog she shook herself and roared upright again.
Far over-side. I heard him call my name.

So it’s just my luck to have the watch, with nothing left to do
But watch the deadly waters glide as we roll north to the Soo,
And wonder when they’ll turn again and pitch us to the rail
And whirl off one more youngster in the gale.

Final Chorus:
But I tell these kids a hundred times “Don’t take the Lakes for granted.
They go from calm to a hundred knots so fast they seem enchanted.”
But tonight some red-eyed Wiarton girl lies staring at the wall,
And her lover’s gone into a white squall.

Lou & Peter Barryman 1988

Holes in the ozone the size of Brazil
Barges of trash in the chewable breeze
Pools of industrial wasteland pate’
Sulfur dioxide dissolving the trees
Pretty soon it will all end with a boom
Why am I painting the living room?

I have the whole day off
Cause it’s a Saturday
There is a bluegrass band
Somewhere along the bay
Look at the lilacs bloom
Why am I painting the living room?

A pinhead evangelist pays for his sin
With a five dollar fine for a black collar crime
Kingpins of industry knowingly nod
Just like lake Erie they’re 12% slime
They wink at the president too I assume
And here I am painting the living room

I hear the bluebird sing
Don’t let the day go by
Look at the blossoms blow
Over the blue blue sky
All with a wild perfume
And here I am painting the living room

Chorus: Why am I painting the living room? (x4)

Ah yes I can see how my tombstone will read
Here lies someone of exceptional worth
Though she did not do a lot for her kind
Or help hold together this crumbling earth
Here lies a woman they’re saying of whom
Sure had a good-looking living room…

Leon Rosselson 1968

"A children's song, the first of many, written for my older daughter, Daniela, when she reached the obstreperous age of about five."

Chorus: Why does it have to be me?
Why can’t they just let me be
Why do I have to do things I don’t want to do
Why does it have to be me?

Each morning I lie in my bed
Slippery dreams in my head
I live in a fine fairy castle of stone,
All on my own, no-one to moan
Then a voice shouts get up and it isn’t a dream
Hurry-up you’re late for school and wash your face and brush your teeth and are your fingers clean
And it goes on and on ’till I’m ready to scream
Why does it have to be me?

Why do I have to eat greens
Cabbage and spinach and beans
I don’t mind potatoes,
I’ll even have meat
Though I’d much rather eat
Ice-cream and sweets
They say greens are good for me, maybe they’re right
But sometimes I think that they do it for spite
And I’ve never seen them eating what they don’t like
So why does it have to be me

Now why can’t I play my own games
Somebody always complains
Whenever I’m playing at monsters or bears
Jumping off chairs,
falling down stairs
It’s don’t be so noisy, or go out and play
Or look for a book if you’re going to stay
But the problem is they always get in my way
So why does it have to be me?

Robert Tannahill 1812

Mainly Norfolk: "The lyrics and melody are a variant of the song The Braes of Balquhither by Scottish poet Robert Tannahill (1774-1810) and Scottish composer Robert Archibald Smith (1780-1829), but were adapted by Belfast musician Francis McPeake (1885-1971) into Wild Mountain Thyme and first recorded by his family in the 1950s." "Like Burns, Tannahill collected and adapted traditional songs, and this one may have been based on the traditional song "The Braes O' Bowhether" though there is much more similarity between McPeake's words and Tannahill's words than between Tannahill's and the trad song. According to Wikisource, the first known publication of Tannahill's poem was in 1812, but it was better known from Smith's publication in 1821-4. Below is a mashup of McPeake's more familiar words and Tannahill's words. Jim Malcolm in band Keltik Elektrik: Wild Mountain Thyme

The summer time is coming
And the trees are sweetly blooming,
And the wild mountain thyme
A’ the moorlands perfuming.

Chorus:
Will you go, lassie, go?
And we’ll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the blooming heather,
Will you go, lassie, go?

I will build my love a bower
By yon clear crystal fountain.
And on it I will build
All the flowers of the mountain.

To our dear native scenes
Let us journey together,
Where glad Innocence reigns
‘Mang the braes o’ Balquhither.

So merrily we’ll sing,
As the storm rattles o’er us,
Till the dear sheiling ring
Wi’ the light lilting chorus.

Si Kahn 1982

If I had my life to live, I’d sure live it over.
Only walk in brand new shoes and just lay down in clover.
Only work on Christmas Day. All the rest go sportin’.
Spend my days down at the creek, and ev’ry night go courtin’.

Chorus:
Honey from the honey comb, water from the fountain.
Sugar from the sugar cane and my wild rose of the mountain.

When I think of home sweet home, it makes my eyes grow misty.
Poppa singing gospel songs and Momma sippin’ whiskey.
Whiskey from a white oak barrel sure does make good liquor.
Makes the nights seem twice as bright and the days go by much quicker.

If I had a pickup truck, I’d fill it up with water.
Paint a catfish on the side and make believe I’d caught her.
Drive it slowly down the road, try to keep from bumpin’.
Park it down beside the creek and watch those fish come jumpin’.

If I had a new-made quilt, I’d fill it up with feathers.
Take my Rosie by the hand and lay down there together.
Oh, the days that I was young! Thoughts that keep returning
Drive the winter night away just like a log fire burning.

Lui Collins 1980

Too many times I’ve fallen for a bold flirtatious smile
My emotions had a way of breaking loose and running wild
Till recently I reined them in behind a casual front
I’m older now and wiser, not so quick to fall in love

Chorus:
Why did I waken this morning with a song inside my head?
And why the smile upon my lips, the lift in every step?
And why when I walked among summer wildflowers of widest range of hue
Were all the colors brightened by the memory of you?

Love for all its newborn joy may later take its toll
For expectations not quite met may finally come to boil
For all the pleasures gained in love, I’ve been too often burned
I’ve sworn to live alone and keep the distance I have learned

Last night you warmed my kitchen with the crinkle of your eye
You brought my home a comfort it has missed for a long time
And though I’m scared of letting down the barriers inside
Already you have touched my heart to melt away the ice

Final Chorus:
And so I woke this morning with a song inside my head
And with a smile upon my lips, a lift in every step
And then when I walked among summer wildflowers of widest range of hue
The colors all grew brighter with the memory of you.

trad 

Fay Hield performed it in 2013, after she found it in the Lucy Broadwood Broadside Collection which largely contains songs compiled 1898-1928 when Broadwood helped found EFDSS. Final verse by Alex Ellis.

Chorus:
O meet me in the willow glen, When the silvery moon is gleaming;
Songs of love I’ll sing you then, When the world is still in dreaming,
If you’ll meet me in the willow glen.

No prying eye will come, my love, No stranger foot be seen;
And all the village hum, my love, Will echo on the wind
If you’ll meet me in the willow glen.

To melodious mandolins, My song I’ll softly blend, love,
While to thee my melody A soothing balm will lend
If you’ll meet me in the willow glen.

So come if you’ll consent my love I’ll bring a merry bottle
And all night long we’ll share in song Til silvery moon descends
If you’ll meet me in the willow glen