In days gone by, when the world was much younger Men harnessed the wind to work for mankind Seamen built tall ships to sail on the ocean While landsmen built wheels the corn for to grind
Chorus: And around and around and around went the big sail Turning the shaft and the great wooden wheel Creaking and groaning, the millstones kept turning Grinding to flour the good corn from the field
In Flanders and Spain and the lowlands of Holland And the kingdoms of England and Scotland and Wales Windmills sprang up all along the wild coastline Ships of the land with their high canvas sails
The Lancashire lads worked hard with the good earth Ploughing and sowing as the seasons declare Waiting to reap all the rich, golden harvest While the miller is idle, his mill to repair
Windmills so old, of wood blacked by weather Windmills of stone, glaring white in the sun Windmills like giants, ready for tilting Windmills that died in the gales and are gone
Now is the start of winter, when animals get thinner Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la The fat ones and the flabby get awfully thin and crabby Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la
They burn up calories against the winter breeze Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la And so I recommend we have some lunch my friend Fa la la la la la la la la, fa la la la la la la
When storm storms are forecast-a, got to use some pasta The cold winds should persuade us to eat some mashed potatoes
And meat and gravy too so we will not turn blue Remember until March, to make the servings large
Sugar is essential to keep away the windchill Before we take a walk, let us sit and eat some chocolate
Let’s eat another course, it’s awful cold outdoors It’s colder than a witch, why not go in the fridge
Chorus: I am looking at a witch hazel blooming in a garden Bright, yellow flowers in the middle of wintertime And I tell my heart be strong like the witch hazel flower And you will not be injured by this dark and troubled time
I take myself alone to a place I know in winter And I look at that south sloping bank covered with ice And I tell my heart it all will melt and run down to the ocean And you will not be injured by this dark and troubled time
We must say goodbye to the ones we love, we must say goodbye to many And we must say goodbye in way too short a time And I tell my heart be strong like the witch hazel flower And you will not be injured by this dark and troubled time
Archie Fisher recorded in 1976 on The Man With a Rhyme, where he wrote: "I have borrowed, for this song, the form of the narrative ballad. The ingredients are a mixture of legend, superstition, and ballad themes brought into focus by the work of the Lakeland painter, Joni Turner. As far as I know, the female centaur is not a creature of mythology, and this role of witch disguise was suggested by the tales of antlered women with bodies of deer seen wading in the shallows of the lakes in the moonlight. There are many pleasant and hospitable inns in the Lake District."
Pale was the wounded knight That bore the rowan shield, Loud and cruel were the raven’s cries That feasted on the field,
Saying, “Beck water, cold and clear, Will never clean your wound. There’s none but the Maid of the Winding Mere Can mak’ thee hale and soond.”
“So course well, my brindled hounds, And fetch me the mountain hare Whose coat is as gray as the Wastwater Or as white as the lily fair.”
Who said, “Green moss and heather bands Will never staunch the flood. There’s none but the Witch of the West-mer-lands Can save thy dear life’s blood.”
“So turn, turn your stallion’s head Till his red mane flies in the wind, And the rider o’ the moon goes by And the bright star falls behind.”
And clear was the paley moon When his shadow passed him by; Below the hill was the brightest star When he heard the houlet cry,
Saying, “Why do you ride this way And wharfore cam’ you here?” “I seek the Witch of the West-mer-lands That dwells by the Winding mere.”
“Then fly free your good grey hawk To gather the goldenrod, And face your horse intae the clouds Above yon gay green wood.”
And it’s weary by the Ullswater And the misty brake fern way Till through the cleft o’ the Kirkstane Pass The winding water lay.
He said, “Lie down, my brindled hounds, And rest, my good grey hawk, And thee, my steed, may graze thy fill For I must dismount and walk.
“But come when you hear my horn And answer swift the call, For I fear ere the sun will rise this morn You may serve me best of all.”
And it’s down to the water’s brim He’s borne the rowan shield, And the goldenrod he has cast in To see what the lake might yield.
And wet rose she from the lake And fast and fleet gaed she, One half the form of a maiden fair With a jet-black mare’s body.
And loud, long and shrill he blew, Till his steed was by his side; High overhead his grey hawk flew And swiftly he did ride,
Saying, “Course well, my brindled hounds, And fetch me the jet-black mare! Stoop and strike, my good grey hawk, And bring me the maiden fair!”
She said, “Pray sheath thy silvery sword, Lay down thy rowan shield. For I see by the briny blood that flows You’ve been wounded in the field.”
And she stood in a gown of the velvet blue, Bound ’round with a silver chain, She’s kissed his pale lips aince and twice And three times ’round again.
She’s bound his wounds with the goldenrod, Full fast in her arms he lay, And he has risen, hale and sound, With the sun high in the day.
She said, “Ride with your brindled hound at heel And your good grey hawk in hand. There’s nane can harm the knight who’s lain With the Witch of the West-mer-land.”
As I look out across the desert Shoshoni, Arapahoe, [Clovis], Cheyenne Homesteaders, ranchers, uranium miners We all watch the movement of clay and of sand
Chorus: Wyoming, I belong in your valleys Your wandering rivers, and your flowering meadows Wyoming your rocks, your eagles and skies I may wander all over, but my heart stays right here
Sifting through the depths of time Reptiles roamed here, by land and by sea [Merry] chickens they strut and they dance now Nothing stays here indefinitely
Antelope skip across the red desert Boom and bust it’s been all along Wyoming has a way of changing Someday soon this will all be gone
Like gods we purge the top of the mountain Crevices cradle the life within Live like the window, Wyoming will lose you A changing face of a timeless land
Wikipedia: "While the original version simply attacked the Jacobites from a contemporaneous Whig point of view, Robert Burns rewrote it in around 1791 to give a version with a more general, humanist anti-war, but nonetheless anti-Jacobite outlook. This is the version that most people know today
Chorus: Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, give an ear, Ye Jacobites by name, give an ear, Ye Jacobites by name, Your fautes I will proclaim, Your doctrines I maun blame, you shall hear, you shall hear Your doctrines I maun blame, you shall hear.
What is Right, and What is Wrang, by the law, by the law? What is Right and what is Wrang by the law? What is Right, and what is Wrang? A short sword, and a lang, A weak arm and a strang, for to draw, for to draw A weak arm and a strang, for to draw.
What makes heroic strife, famed afar, famed afar? What makes heroic strife famed afar? What makes heroic strife? To whet th’ assassin’s knife, Or hunt a Parent’s life, wi’ bluidy war, bluidy war? Or hunt a Parent’s life, wi’ bluidy war?
Then let your schemes alone, in the state, in the state, Then let your schemes alone in the state. So let your schemes alone, Adore the rising sun, And leave a man undone, to his fate, to his fate. And leave a man undone, to his fate.
We lived over yonder banks Where those tall cranes touch the sky Down beside the dockyard wall Where those terraced houses lie And I think we lived at number four Or was it number six? It was such a long, long time ago I can’t remember which
Chorus: We lived over yonder banks Over there
We played tag on yonder tip When the watchman was away Up and down we used to run A hundred times a day When the shipyard’s sirens blew We’d chase each other home But that was quite some time ago Some thirty years or so
Well I’m at the station now Waiting for the evening train Wondering if by some small chance I might pass this way again Though I left the town where I was born Deep inside I know A little will remain with me No matter where I go
Roy Bailey recorded it in 1989; Rosselson in 1994. "Written for Inter-Action's healthy learning project. I believe the brief was to write a song to show children how important it is to wash. How to turn such a very dull subject into a fun song?"
Chorus: You need skin, take good care of it Don’t harm a hair of it What would we do without it Keep it clean, soapy water every day Will wash the dirt and smells away ‘Cos you need skin
Whether you’re fat or whether you’re thin It keeps the germs from crawling in Whether you’re skinny or whether you’re stout It keeps the blood from trickling out
Whether you’re black or whether you’re brown It keeps you’re tummy from tumbling down Whether you’re silly or whether you’re smart It keeps your bones from falling apart
Whether you’re dark or whether you’re fair Skin’s the thing for growing hair It’s waterproof in rainy weather And keeps the bits of your body together
Oh where are you going said the man upon the road To sit all alone said the girl as she stood Where will that be said the man upon the road At the house of our leaders said the girl as she stood Not a word I heard from those inside So my whisper will be louder than a shout she cried
Chorus: And the young girl stood and still she stood For the Earth, our conscience and the common good
But you should be in school… But that’s no use at all… Learn your lessons well… But no truth to me they tell… What’s this truth they hide that you wish to hear ‘Bout how our planet is in danger and its end is near
You should not be seen or heard… Then do not take my word… You’d have us live in fear… If you hold our planet dear… Oh our time is short and the way is long Our hope is in our deeds when our resolve is strong
There’s nothing we can do… Not if we leave it up to you… You cause nothing but distress… Like you’re leaving us a mess… Be still the children’s voices sound They are crying out defiance as they stand their ground
I can’t get this in my head… If you don’t we’ll all be dead… I can always close my eyes… Then your kind I would despise… I see black I see white where you see gray And we’ll only see tomorrow if we change today
