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D. K. Gavan <1859

In the merry month of May from my home I started
Left the girls of Tuam nearly broken-hearted
Saluted Father dear, kissed my darlin’ Mother
Drank a pint of beer my grief and tears to smother
Then off to reap the corn, and leave where I was born
I cut a stout blackthorn to banish ghost and goblin,
In a bran’new pair of brogues I rattled o’er the bogs
And frightened all the dogs on the rocky road to Dublin

Chorus:
One, two, three, four five, hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky roaad, and all the ways to Dublin
Whack fol-lol-de-ra

In Mullingar that night I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight next morning light and airy,
Took a drop of the pure, to keep my heart from sinking,
That’s an frishman’s cure, whene’er he’s on for drinking,
To see the lasses smile, laughing all the while,
At my curious style, ‘twould set your heart a-bubbling,
They ax’d if I was hired, the wages I required,
Till I was almost tired of the rocky road to Dublin.

In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived a view of that fine city,
Then I took a stroll out among the quality,
My bundle it was stole in a neat locality;
Something crossed my mind, then I looked behind,
No bundle could I find upon me stick a-wobblin’,
Enquiring for the rogue, they said my Connaught brogue
Wasn’t much in vogue on the rocky road to Dublin.

From there I got away my spirits never failing,
Landed on the quay as the ship was sailing,
Captain at me roared, said that no room had he,
When I jumped aboard, a cabin found for Paddy
Down among the pigs, I played some funny rigs
Danced some hearty jigs, the water round me bubblin’
When off to Holyhead I wished myself was dead,
Or better far, instead, on the rocky road to Dublin.

The bovs of Liverpool, when we safely landed,
Called myself a fool, I could no longer stand it;
Blood began to boil, temper I was losin’
Poor old Erin’s isle they began abusin’
“Hurrah my soul!” sez I, my shillelagh I let fly,
Some Galway boys were by, saw I was a hobblin’,
Then with a loud Hurrah, they joined in the affray,
We quickly cleared the way, for the rocky road to Dublin. 

trad 

Leadbelly: https://leadbelly1888.bandcamp.com/track/rock-island-line

Chorus:
The Rock Island Line is a mighty good road
The Rock Island Line is the road to ride
The Rock Island Line is a mighty good road
If you want to ride you gotta ride it like you find it
Get your ticket at the station for the Rock Island Line

Well I may be right and I may be wrong I know you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone

ABC double XYZ Cat’s in the cupboard but you don’t need me

Pretty Emelina, sitting in the shade Thinking ’bout the money that I ain’t made 

Pete Sutherland 1999?

(repeat each line of verses)
A long time ago
we don’t know how long
There lived a man named Robin
and this is Robin’s song
He was living in the trees
he was swinging down the vines
With his men all dressed in green
and Marion by his side

Chorus:
Robin Hood, Robin Hood, roamed around the neighborhood
Helping people out of trouble like he knew he should
Knew he should, should be good, good old Robin Hood

King John held a contest
to catch Robin Hood
With a prize golden arrow
saying “boy won’t this be good”
The beggar drew his bow
it was Robin in disguise
He was the best of all them
So of course he won the prize

King John robbed the people
Till he heard the doorbell ring
It was merry men a-calling
Upon the robber king
There’s a fire in the castle
It was set by Little John
The king jumped out the window
And he ran the marathon

Now were they really people
In those tights and pointy hats
Or was it like the movie
Starring bears and snakes and cats
Now Robin married Marion
And they lived out in the forest
They lived happily ever after
Now here comes the chorus

Neil & Ros Kimber 2001

Captain Gibson hear our plea
Six men’s lives are in peril at sea
Send the boats oh, send the boats
The Whitby Visitor is no more

Chorus 1:
Shovel the snow lads, seven feet tall
Hooves a’pounding, clear and haul
Clear and haul lads, clear and haul
Hooves a’pounding, clear and haul

Coxswain shouted, “Can’t you see
We could never clear that sea
Boats not for sailing, not today.”
But six men’s lives we shall yet save

Grab the shovels, seas of snow
Through blizzards drift we shall go
O’er the moors boys, o’er the moors
At Robin Hood’s Bay we’ll launch there

Harness fastened leathers tight
Ne’er anyone had seen such sight
Steady up boys, steady up
Mighty beasts haul the load

Hundreds fight the snow that day
More horses harnessed on the way
Twixt cozy homes with fires that glow
But pounding seas still lay ahead

Chorus 2:
Pull the oars lads, seven feet tall
Waves a’pounding, heave and haul
Heave and haul lads, heave and haul
Waves a’pounding, clear and haul

Exhausted men can barley stand
But the Robert Whitworth will be manned
Oars all smashed and steering broke
With salty tears they head for shore

We’ll try again we shall not fail
Eighteen men shall fight the gale
Hours passed men hauled aboard
White horses crashing to the bay

Such a journey ne’er forget
Inner strength will save men yet
Fight nature’s forces for precious life
Lifeboat men to you I praise 

Nancy Kerr 2023

"A reflection on the demise of the British steel industry, written after standing in an old Sheffield steel forge, now an industrial heritage museum and reminiscent of the bones of a great whale."

Melrose Quartet: https://melrosequartet.bandcamp.com/track/rise-no-more

What mired Jonah’s creature To see her rise no more?
What fate conspired to breach her One hundred miles from shore?
For our children stand in silence And view her bones in awe
This heart unreal, these ribs of steel Shall sleep and rise no more

Chorus:
Rise no more oh rise no more We shall not meet my friend on Canaan’s shore
Where heav’nly arcs our souls restore So sleep and rise no more

Like a drunken man still drowning Work’s thirst long gone before
The veins within her pounding Not blood but molten ore
For she drew no dragon’s bonus To burn all England’s poor
All those who bleed this earth for greed Go sleep and rise no more

The legend of her shining Dark carols only sing
Of casting ore and grinding The echoes only ring
Bright tears upon us raining From steelos gone before
For all that streamed is nought but dream So sleep and rise no more 

Carol Denney 2004

Finest Kind liner notes say "metaphor for the Iraq war dead...in small town West Virginia. The quiet, dignified voice of this song reflects a rural community where discussion of the war is more nuanced but, as she says, 'the loss of one person is felt deeply, and mourned collectively.'" There are two other choruses but changing up choruses every time is hard for social sings.

Finest Kind: https://ianrobb1.bandcamp.com/track/the-riley-boys

It was lovely in the spring, all the flowers were in bloom
And we met beside the shore for a moment
There were birds and there were planes flying patterns all around
And we shared a single sound for a moment

Chorus:
If the Riley boys were here they would tell us not to cry
Dry your eyes they’d say there’s work to do tomorrow
If the Riley boys were here we’d hold fast another year
And be thankful for what mercy we could borrow

If it’s quiet in the streets it is not for want of feet
That would march if they could only find the way
If the halo round the light on this quiet street tonight
Were the hearts that wander by it would be crying

It’s so hard to read the news and so beautiful outside
And the world that seemed so wide now seems so broken
All the things we love and keep in our dreams and in our sleep
Startled birds that we have suddenly awoken 

Howard Dietz & Arthur Schwartz 1948

Written for a Broadway musical revue, Inside USA, which celebrated each of the then 48 states. It played 399 performances and ran one year, closing on Valentine's Day of 1949. It has traditionally been interpreted as a love song, from its musical theater inception to later covers, notably by artist Blossom Dearie. In Inside USA, the song was originated by Jack Haley and Estelle Loring.

Copper comes from Arizona
Peaches come from Georgia
And lobsters come from Maine
The wheat fields are the sweet fields of Nebraska
And Kansas gets bonanzas from the grain
Old whiskey comes from old Kentucky
Ain’t the country lucky New Jersey gives us glue

Chorus:
And you, you come from Rhode Island
And little old Rhode Island is famous for you

Cotton comes from Louisiana
Gophers from Montana
And spuds from Idaho
They plow land in the cow land of Missouri
Where most beef meant for roast beef seems to grow
Grand canyons come from Colorado
Gold comes from Nevada Divorces also do

Pencils come from Pennsylvania
Vests from Vest Virginia
And Tents from Tent-essee
They know mink where they grow mink in Wyo-mink
A camp chair in New Hamp-chair, that’s for me
And minnows come from Minnesota
Coats come from Dakota But why should you be blue

Dick Gaughan 1983

I come like a comet new born Like the sun that arises at morning
I come like the furious tempest That follows a thundercloud’s warning
I come like the fiery lava From cloud-covered mountains volcanic
I come like a storm from the north That the oceans awake to in panic
I come because tyranny planted My seed in the hot desert sand
I come because masters have kindled My fury with every command
I come because man cannot murder The life-giving seed in his veins
I come because liberty cannot Forever be fettered by chains
I come because tyrants imagine That mankind is only their throne
I come because peace has been nourished By bullets and cannon alone
I come because one world is two And we face one another with rage
I come because guards have been posted To keep out the hope of the age

From earliest times the oppressed Have awaked me and called me to lead them
I guided them out of enslavement And brought them to high roads of freedom
I marched at the head of their legions And hailed a new world at its birth
And now I shall march with the peoples Until they unfetter the earth
And you, all you sanctified moneybags Bandits anointed and crowned
Your counterfeit towers of justice And ethics will crash to the ground
I’ll send my good sword through your hearts That have drained the world’s blood in their lust
Smash all your crowns and your sceptres And trample them into the dust
I’ll rip off your rich purple garments And tear them to rags and to shreds
Never again will their glitter Be able to turn people’s heads
At last your cold world will be robbed of It’s proud hypocritical glow
For we shall dissolve it as surely As sunlight dissolves the deep snow

(Skipping first of the three parts of the tune)
I’ll tear down your cobweb morality Shatter the old chain of lies
Catch all your blackhooded preachers And choke them as though they were flies
I’ll put a quick end to your heavens Your gods that are deaf to all prayer
Scatter your futile old spirits And clean up the earth and the air
And though you may choke me and shoot me And hang me your toil is in vain
No dungeon, no gallows can scare me Nor will I be frightened by pain
Each time I’ll arise from the earth And break through all your weapons of doom
Until you are finished forever Until you are dust in the tomb 

Archie Fisher 2001

When Fisher died in 2025, Amy Davenport told Thank Goodnes It's Folk about meeting him at a festival and upon hearing her sing in a pub and learning that she sang Witch of the West-mer-lands, he told her he'd written a sequel and would love her help bringing it into the world. They exchanged emails for the finishing touches of the song.

Amy Davenport: https://gavinandamydavenport.bandcamp.com/track/the-return

Long was the hour for the valiant knight That would ne’er be sick or slain.
Lonely the bower in the candlelight With neither kith nor kin.
Stormclouds over the full moon raced As he swung to the dapple grey.
And man and horse to the westward faced On the eve of an All-Saints Day.

And lo, ‘neath the long green grassy mound Lie the bones of his noble steed.
Gone to their graves are his brindled hounds, That were never matched for speed.
Freed to the wind were his grey hawk’s wings, Never to be seen again.
Lost were the songs that the young men sing As they ride o’er the plain.

The rowan shield burned on his breast As the old man rode again.
Over the rocky kirkstan crest In the howling wind and rain.
Weary the step of his garron’s stride As they slowly wended down
To the banks of the winding waterside All under a paley moon

Cold was the crack of the raven’s cry That echoed from the fell.
Fierce were the flames of the morning sky As the burning gates of Hell.
Over his breast on the mantle white The rowan shield burned red.
And, there in the rays of the dawning light, The berries burst and bled.

“Oh, where is your hawk and your brindled hounds?” Came the screeching houlet’s call.
“Gone to the dank and the wormy ground, That will ay consume us all.
Where is the maid of the jet black mare who held me fast in sleep?”
“Under the long dark winding mere, She rests in the watery deep.”

He’s laid his hand on his hunting horn And, with his dying breath,
Has blown a blast to the blazing morn That would route the Angel of Death.
High in the cusp of the starry night He heard his grey hawk mew.
As out of the mist came morning light, His ghostly grey hounds flew.

He has gathered a snatch of the goldenrod All withered in the wood
And scattered it over the water’s brim Where his ghostly greyhounds stood.
Flecked was the coat of the lithe black mare That rose from the watery deep.
White were the locks of the maiden’s hair, And her brown eyes heavy with sleep.

“Waily, waily my noble lord, Who wakes me from my rest.
There’s none can heal the wounds of time That lie bloody on your breast.
Climb from your silvered saddle down And swing to my back astride.
Gather your hawk and your brindled hounds And together we will ride.”

His saddlecloth was the velvet blue Trimmed round with a silver chain.
He’s kissed her pale lips aince and twice, Aye, and three times round again.
And over the lake with his hounds at heel And his good grey hawk in hand,
Rode the knight of the blood-red rowan shield And the witch of the West-mer-land. 

trad 1870s

While often associated with cowboy singing and the Red River that is part of the Texas-Oklahoma border, the origins of the song appear to instead be from the Red River that makes up the North Dakota-Minnesota border and flows into Manitoba. Canadian folklorist Edith Fowke believes the song's origins are in 1870 and the narrator is a Métis woman.

From this valley they say you are going,
I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile,
For alas you take with the sunshine
That has brightened my pathway awhile.

Chorus:
Come and sit by my side if you love me,
Do not hasten to bid me adieu.
But remember the Red River Valley
And the girl who has loved you so true.

For this long, long time I have waited
For the words that you never would say,
But now my last hope has vanished
When they tell me you’re going away.

When you go to your home by the ocean
May you never forget the sweet hours
That we spent in the Red River Valley
Or the vows we exchanged mid the bowers.

Will you think of the valley you’re leaving?
Oh, how lonely and dreary ’twill be!
Will you think of the fond heart you’re breaking
And be true to your promise to me.