Category: songs

Hannah Martin 2018

Phil Henry 

“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.”

Edgelarks: Wander by Edgelarks

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tf_0BwJi0CQ

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

 

 

 

 

Melrose Quartet learned it from the singing of Charlie Yarwood

The Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/ware-out-mother

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/ware-out-mother

Nightmares, Mother had, of navvies in the cellar And dark eyes looking through the window outside How we used to vex her, how we used to taunt her How we would laugh and chant to her dismay Chorus: ‘Ware out Mother there’s a navvy in the cellarÿ and two more looking through the window outside Mother heard there was to be a river buildedÿ Just a stone’s throw away from the window outside How we hugged each other, as we told our mother “It’s a canal, there’ll be navigators too.” We told Mother we’d see barges full of jewels And wondrous things past the window outside “But where’s this river from?” We said it flows from China “Woah” thought Mom, “there’ll be alligators too.”d One night Jimmy led the navies into townÿ and they looked like beggars through the window outside There were navvies in the ale house, arguments and street fights, Mother was delicate, she stayed in bed all week One night Jimmy had a gentle way with wordsÿ and more pairs of hands than was decent, alright “Will you come along, me saucy little Susie, Just let me put a few arms around your waist.” Soon our mother saw the navvy with her daughterÿ and she locked her up in the cellar downstairs “Do you get along, me naughty filthy hussy, Else I’ll put this stick about your back.” Jim gave a wink, or it might have been a blink, and he organised a tunnel ‘neath the window outside Not a body saw them, then they struck foundations “Right” thought Jim, “I shall blow a little hole.” Muffled bang! and there was dust and rubble everywhere And Jim was in the cellar of his Susie once more How they hugged each other, yet no-one told our mother She still has her dreams, yet she’s never learnt the truth.

 

 

Fred Small 1991

 

Fred Small: Warlords

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LYBv0bQb8ew

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 th?ir obedient sons prime th?ir 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 [Outro] In a desert world In a driven world In a doubting world Love is lord of all Love is lord of all

 

 

 

 

“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

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

 

 

Alex Sturbaum 2017

 

Alex Sturbaum: https://alexsturbaum.bandcamp.com/track/way-down-in-the-toad-mines

https://alexsturbaum.bandcamp.com/track/way-down-in-the-toad-mines

It was way back in ’14 when first I went west Hopped an old empty boxcar and the rails did the rest Spat me out in Wyoming, Bighorn Mountain range It was then that my life took a turn for the strange Heard tell of a job out by Chugwater way They needed some hands, they were willing to pay And me, I was tired of life on the road So I went out prospecting for Wyoming toad Chorus 1: Way down in the toad mines I guess that’s where my sin began Way down in the toad mines Digging for them damn amphibians Now the bull-goose prospector was Warty Joe Flynn And he knew of the state the toad business was in A dollar a day we was paid for our time In hopes we could find a good spot for the mine They came off the skids, off the rails and the roads And soon came the cry: Warty Joe had struck toad We dug the first toad shaft the very next day And the miners came next: where there’s toads, there’ll be pay Chorus 2: Way down in the toad mines Where the time is always evenin’ Way down in the toad mines Digging through them toad secretionsÿ Well, we found us some hoptoads and found us some leapers And damn near caved in once in a seam of spring peepers But in April of that year we struck mother lode A big, croaking vein of pure Wyoming toad We worked day and night to that ribbiting sound Every day we hauled six tons of toad out the ground Chugwater sprung up, and was much talked about No one could have guessed that the toad might run out Chorus 3: Way down in the toad mines For the gods of wealth are jolly gods Way down in the toad mines With your pockets full of polywogsÿ Well, the mine it dried up, and the town dried up too There ain’t no place to go, there ain’t nothing to do We went out prospecting to find a new vein But the good days of toad mining won’t come again I went back on the bum and I hopped a freight train I cut timber for a while, but it weren’t quite the same There never was more than one business for me And boys, the toad business ain’t what it used to be Chorus 4: Way down in the toad mines That’s where I spent my youth Way down in the toad mines Think I might go back east and try panning for newts

 

 

Gordon Bok 1977

 

“I wrote this song while doing the music for a public television documentary on the maritime history of Maine called “Home to the Sea.” It became the theme song, with Ann Mayo Muir singing the full version of the song at the end of the film.ÿ If it sounds bitter, remember that the day is late and not the fate of the small fisherman on the Northeast coast looks even darker than it did before.ÿ There’s no subsidy here for the “little fellow” – only more paperwork.”

Gordon Bok: The Ways of Man

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evyON4xEHhc

The ways of man are ‘passing strange He buys his freedom and he counts his change Then he lets the wind his days arrange And he calls the tide his master. Chorus: Oh, the days, oh the days, Oh, the fine long summer days. The fish come rolling in the bays And he swore he’d never leave me. But the days grow short and the year gets old And the fish won’t stay where the water’s cold, And if they’re going to fill the hold They’ve got to go offshore to find them. So they go outside on the raving deep And they pray the Lord their soul to keep But the waves will roll them all to sleep And the tide will be their keeper. Oh, the tide, oh, the tide, Oh, you dark and you bitter tide. If I can’t have him by my side, I guess I have to leave him. I gave you one, I gave you two: The best that rotten old boat could do. You won’t be happy till I give you three, But I’ll be damned if you’ll get me. Oh, the tide, oh, the tide, Oh, you dark and you bitter tide. If I can’t have him by my side, The water’s welcome to him. Ah, Lord, I know that the day will come When one less boat comes slogging home. I don’t mind knowing that he’ll be the one, But I can’t spend my whole life praying. I gave you one, I have you two: The best that poor old boat could do; You’ll have it all before you’re through – Well, I’ve got no more to give you.

 

 

trad 

 

The Teacups: https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/the-weary-cutters

https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/the-weary-cutters

Chorus: Oh, the weary cutters, they’ve taken my laddie from me Oh, the weary cutters, they’ve taken my laddie from me They always come in the night, They never come in the day They always come in the night, And they steal the laddies away They’ve shipped him far away foreign, With Nelson all on the salt sea Oh, the weary cutters, they’ve taken my laddie from me When I look to the north I look with a tear in my eye But when I look to the south I see the laddies come by I’ll give the cutters a shilling, I’ll give the cutters no more I’ll give the cutters a shilling to fetch my laddie ashore Oh, the weary cutters, and oh, the weary sea Oh, the weary cutters, they’ve taken my laddie from me

 

 

Jess Arrowsmith 2011

 

Written for the wedding of Sara and Phil Rose.

The Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/wedding-bells

https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/wedding-bells

On a Winter’s day I walked alone The coldest day of all the year And I wished that I had for my own A sweetheart who would be my dear Chorus: Oh wedding bells ring out one day of joy (x2) On a day in Spring ‘neath skies so clear I met my love for the very first time And my heart was filled with joy and cheer That I was his and he was mine On a Summer’s day the sun did shine We shared our thoughts and did agree That evermore our hearts would twine And therefore married we should be This Autumn day as all can see We stand together clasping hands In front of friends and family Are joined as one with marriage bands

 

 

Harry Robertson 1971

 

The whaling station in the South Georgia islands, operated by a Scottish company from 1909 until 1965. Robertson worked there in 1950-51.

I love this video but I have no idea who they are: Wee Dark Engine Room – gordon bok

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANEnoUq65EI

Now the winter blizzards blow and the whaling fleet’s at rest, Tucked in Leith Harbour’s sheltered bay safely anchored ten abreast. The whalers at their stations from shed to shed they rove, Carry bags of coal with them and a little iron stove. Chorus In that wee dark engine room where the chill seeps through your soul, How we huddled round that wee pot stove that burned oily rags and coal. The fireman Paddy works with me on the engines frozen cold, A stranger to the truth was he, there’s no lie he hasn’t told. Well, he boasted of his gold mines and all the hearts he’d won And his bawdy sense of humour shone just like a ray of sun. We live it seven days a week, cold hands and frozen feet, Bitter days and lonely nights, making grog and having fights. There’s fish and whale-meat sausage and penguin egg’s a treat; Then we struggle on to work each day through the icy winds and sleet. Then one day we saw the sun, saw the factory ships return, Meet your old friends, sing a song; hope the seasons won’t be long. Then it’s homeward bound it’s over and we’ll leave this icy cove; But I always will remember that little iron stove.

 

 

trad 

 

Archie Fisher recorded in 1976 on The Man With a Rhyme, where he wrote: “I have a soft spot for the Chief Lochiel mentioned in this song, for the story goes that he talked Prince Charlie out of ransacking my native city of Glasgow when its burghers refused to supply the retreating Jacobite army with shoes and supplies. Charlie was not always as welcome in some places as this song implies. If he had been, the result of the ’45 rebellion might have been very different.” doited = foolish, childish. Daurna = dare not. Shiel = highland cottage.

Archie Fisher: Welcome, Royal Charlie

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g7y6rekD7cY

The prince who should oor king hae been, he wore the royal red and green A bonnier lad was never seen than our brave royal Charlie Chorus: Oh, ye’ve been lang a-comin’, Lang, lang, lang a’comin’ Oh, ye’ve been lang a-comin’, Welcome royal Charlie Since oor true king was sent awa’ A doited German rules us a’ And we are forced against the law For the right belongs to Charlie We daurna brew a peck o’ malt Or German Geordie finds a fault And for oor kail we’d scarce get salt For the want o’ royal Charlie When Charlie in the hielan’ shiel Forgithered wi’ the great Lochiel Oh what kindness did prevail Atween the chief and Charlie At Falkirk and at Prestonpans, Supported by oor heilan clans He broke the Hanoverian bands; The right belongs to Charlie