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Kate Rusby 2007

Kate Rusby: https://katerusby.bandcamp.com/track/high-on-a-hill

High on a hill There’s a sweet bird calling
All come together Are you in or are you out?
He sings of a time When the sky was falling
All come together And be in no doubt

Chorus:
Oh, darling, let’s go over Now the devil’s here
Oh, darling, let’s go over Now the devil’s here
And oh, darling, oh my darling Be strong and be proud
Oh, darling, then you’ll see The devil will go round
Round, round

High on a hill And way up yonder
All come together Are you in or are you out?
The eleventh day was hell But the heart grows stronger
All come together And be in no doubt

Over the fields Where the water’s falling
All come together Are you in or are you out?
There’s a bird on the hill And he’s sweetly calling
All come together And be in no doubt

trad

A Crowd of Bold Sharemen writes: “An excellent description of the St. John’s waterfront circa 1913, when the ships were gearing up to go to the ice for the seal hunt. In those days the waterfront consisted of finger piers which is why so many ships could tie up in the short distance between Harvey’s and Bowring’s wharves. Many of these ships and their captains were well known around Newfoundland since they were active in other coastal trade around the island and in Labrador when they weren’t prosecuting the seal fishery.”

Alex Sturbaum: https://alexsturbaum.bandcamp.com/track/captains-and-ships

From Harvey’s I’ll start and to Bowring’s I’ll go
I’ll name all the ships and the captains also
Where the north king is raging and strong blows the gale
In search of the white coats a day they will sail

Chorus:
Where the north king is raging and strong blows the gale
In search of the white coats a day they will sail

In the Ad, Captain Doyle, in the Bell, Joe B. Nee
In the Bon, Captain Parsons, a stout man is he
And jolly Jake Keenan the spring will command
Harvey’s port steamer the Old Newfoundland

The name of the ships of Joe Brothers & Co
The first and the next one I’ll let ye all know
Of the good ship Diana Joe Blanford has charge
I hope she’ll come back before long with the surge

In comes the Beothic, so swift and so sure
I hope that George Barber is with her once more
And then there’s the Neptune, I see it’s a-plain
And likewise the Erik with pleasant Joe Kane

I wish them good luck and from jokes take my leave
I’ll name all the ships owned by Walter Baingreave
There’s the Bloodhound, Gate Windsor, he’ll yet make his mark
With Kane in the Iceland the cross Captain Clark

Their Brothers also got a fine man for sure
Baxter Barber who sails in the ship Labrador
He’ll fill her and bring her safe over the seas
As he did when he sailed with the Crosbys’ Louise

And then it’s the Bowrings, a firm that’s well-known
For the pluck, push, and enterprise all they have shown
For building that steamer, you all know her well
Having Kane her commander, the new Florisel

The Kive, Captain Caroll, I wish him good luck
Once more in the Eagle, Joe Kane showed his pluck
And Bartlett the Viking, I pray he will fill
And dear old Dan Green, will he make his big bill

The Ranger, Sam Windsor, be fleetingly seen
Likewise Noah Bishop, and the Algerine
My song is concluded ‘bout captains and ships
May they all come in with big beards on their lips

trad

Cecil Sharp notes: “The adjective ‘painful’ is of course, used in its original sense of taking pains, careful, industrious.” Roy Palmer wrote in 1972: “According to Baring-Gould, this ballad may have been written by Martin Parker, who died about 1656. It was extremely popular during the nineteenth century, no doubt as an assertion of the dignity of the labourers and the importance of their work.” Finest Kind wrote: “This 19th century English ballad in its original form was an argument between a ploughman and a gardener as to whose occupation was more valuable to humanity. In most versions heard nowadays, the gardener’s side has disappeared, flour having won out over flowers.”

Come all you jolly ploughmen of courage stout and bold
Who labour all the winter in stormy winds and cold
To clothe your fields with plenty, your barnyards to renew
To crown them with contentment, behold the painful plough.

For Adam was a ploughman when ploughing first begun
The next that did succeed him was Cain his eldest son.
Some of the generation the calling do pursue,
That bread may not be wanting, remains the painful plough.

And Samson was a mighty man, and Solomon he was wise,
Alexander for to conquer was all his daily prize,
King David he was valious, and many thousands slew
But none of these brave heroes could live without the plough.

Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades in foreign seas
And brings both gold and treasure to those that live at ease
With finest silks and spices, and fruits and dainties too
They are brought from the Indies by virtue of the plough.

For they must have bread and biscuit, rice pudding, flour and peas
To feed the jolly sailor that sails upon the seas
Yet every man that brings them here must own to what is true:
He cannot sail the ocean without the painful plough.

Cyril Tawney 1958

Skipper in the wardroom drinking gin (Hi-o, chicken on a raft!)
I don’t mind knocking, but I ain’t a-going in! (Hi-o, chicken on a raft!)
Jimmy’s laughing like a drain, (Hi-o, chicken on a raft!)
Been lookin’ at my comic cuts again, (Hi-o, chicken on a raft!)

Chorus:
Chicken on a raft on a Monday morning,
Oh, what a terrible sight to see,
Dabtoes forrard and the dustmen aft,
Sittin’ there a-pickin’ at a chicken on a raft!
Hi-o, chicken on a raft!
Oy-o, chicken on a raft!
Hi-o, chicken on a raft!
Oy-o, chicken on a raft!

They gave me the middle and the forenoon too,
Now I’m pullin’ in a whaler’s crew.
There’s a seagull wheelin’ overhead,
Oh to be floatin’ in a feather bed!

We kissed goodbye on the midnight bus
She didn’t cry, she didn’t fuss.
Am I the one that she loves best
Or am I just a cuckoo in another man’s nest?

I had a little girl in Donny B
And did she make a fool of me.
Her heart was like a purser’s shower,
From hot to cold in a quarter of an hour!

Jerry Rasmussen 1980

Down around the bend by the railroad bridge ,
Just wading through the shallows where the crayfish live .
Over by the cotton mill the catfish bite ;
They’ll be swimming in a skillet before tonight .

Chorus:
Living on the river was nice and easy ;
People on the river just take their time .
The wind in the summer was warm and breezy;
The wind in the winter it cut like ice .

Off down the hill on a winter’s night ,
To go skating on the river in the cold moonlight .
There’s an old woodstove and a hardwood floor;
And you can sit and take it easy while your feet get warm.

Down around the bend where the blackbird sings,
Over by the fountain there’s a crystal spring .
Back in the shallows where the watercress grows,
Sweet spring water runs clear and cold .

Up in the morning at four o ‘ clock;
Meet you on the landing at Johnson’s dock .
Drifting on the river ‘till the sun comes up ,
Drinking hot, black coffee from an old tin cup .

Sandra Kerr 2019

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

Dave Webber 1985

Winter time is gone and past-o,
Summer time has come at last-o.
We shall sing and dance the day
And follow the ’obby ’oss to bring the May.

Chorus:
So, Hail! Hail! The First of May-o!
For it is the first summer’s day-o!
Cast you cares and fears away,
Drink to the old horse on the First of May!

Blue bells they have started to ring-o,
And true love, it is the thing-o.
Love on any other day
Is never the same as on the First of May!

Never let it come to pass-o
We should fail to raise a glass-o!
Unto those now gone away
And left us the ’obby ’oss to bring the May!

trad

Chorus:
Unite and unite and let us all unite,
For summer is a-come unto day,
And whither we are going we will all unite,
In the merry morning of May.

Hark here you young men everyone (For summer is a-come unto day,)
Now go to the green-wood and fetch your May home (In the merry morning of May.)

Arise up Mr. Singh and gold be your ring,
And give to us a cup of ale the merrier we shall sing,

Arise up Ms. Jean all in your gown of green
You are as fine a lady as wait upon the Queen,

Where are the young men that here now should dance,
Some they are in England and some they are in France

Where are the others that here now should sing
They are in the meadows the flowers gathering,

Bridge:
O! where is St. George,
O, where is he O?
He is out in his long-boat all on the salt sea O.
Up flies the kite and down falls the lark O,
Aunt Ursula Birdhood she had an old ewe
And she died in her own park O.

With the merry ring, adieu the merry spring,
How happy is the little bird that merrily doth sing

The young men of Padstow might if they would,
They might have built a ship and gilded her with gold

The young women of Padstow might if they would,
They might have made a garland with the white rose and the red,

Now fare you well and bid you all good cheer,
We call no more unto your house before another year

Alex Ellis 2026

Inspired by New Orleans’ contaminated drinking water crises of 2022 and 2023. Tune is Balfour Road by Rhona Falling.

The plover doesn’t hear, a thousand miles away,
The wildfire in the north, her nest repaired today
When oil coats the marsh, she knows it’s someone’s fault
But Ohio’s in a drought, now the River’s full of salt

Chorus:
Salt marsh salt, fried chicken salt
You turn on the faucet you don’t want no salt
Crab boil salt, Pontchartrain salt
The Gulf is up the River and it’s too much salt

A million people drink the Mississippi’s gifts
When water’s flowing slow then the intake has to shift
Hundred million stopgap, two to go upriver,
Oil keeps burning what’s left of normal weather

Underwater sandcastle, holding back the tide
But the climate keeps changing and there’s nowhere left to hide
Implacable wedge, pushing up here from the sea
If you love New Orleans don’t go working for BP

The rhythm of the storms is nothing new here
In Plaquemines Parish the precarity is near
Most of us survive, most of us rebuild
But who will pay to do it if you leave or you are killed?

Mardi Gras beads add a sparkle to her nest
But the plover’s getting tired and she settles own to rest
The delta will endure the anthropocene’s assault
But her habitat’s wounded and we’re rubbing in the salt

David Francey 1999

David Francey: https://davidfrancey.bandcamp.com/track/torn-screen-door

Late summer day and my love and I went walking
Over hills and fields we walked, laughing and talking
Came across an old farmhouse standing broken and bare
It used to be someone’s home, now no one lives there

There’s a red barn standing held together with nails and dust
And a tired old Massey Harris, all wires and rust
Weeds overgrown in a garden sown with care
It used to be someone’s home, now no one lives there

And through the crack in the window pane
I hear the sound of the falling rain
Another farm being left run down
Another family moved into town

Chorus:
Had a life that they tried to save
But the banks took it all away
Hung a sign on a torn screen door:
“Nobody lives here no more”

They worked their fingers to the bone
Nothing left they can call their own
Packed it in under leaden skies
With just the wheat waving them goodbye