Posts

trad 

Chorus:
Gonna take my stool and sit in the shade
I’m determined to be an old maid
I ain’t gonna marry at all, at all
I ain’t gonna marry at all

I ain’t gonna marry a man that’s poor ‘Cause he’ll go begging from door to door
I ain’t gonna marry at all, at all I ain’t gonna marry at all

…a man that’s rich, ’cause he’ll get drunk and fall in a ditch

…a man that’s old, with his wrinkled face and hands so cold

…a man that’s young, with his wandering eyes and his blathering tongue

…a preacher’s son, ’cause he won’t let me have my fun

…a farmer’s son, all he wants is a dog and a gun

…a man that’s fat, he’ll sit in the door and kick the cat

…a man that’s little, he won’t be able to play the big fiddle

…a morris man, ’cause all he wants is a cold beer can

…one man at all, I’ll take them all home and love them all 

trad

I was told by my Aunt I was told by my mother
That going to a wedding Is the makings of another
Well if this be so Then I’ll go without a bidding
O kind Providence Won’t you send me to a wedding

Chorus:
And it’s Oh dear me How will it be
If I die an old maid In a garret

Now there’s my sister Jean She’s not handsome or good looking
Scarcely sixteen And a fella she was courting
Now she’s twenty-four She’s a son and a daughter
Here am I, forty-four And I’ve never had an offer

I can cook and I can sew I can keep a house right tidy
Rise up in the morning And get the breakfast ready
There’s nothing in this wide world That makes my heart so cheery
As a wee fat man To call me his own deary

So come landsman or come townsman Come tinker or come tailor
Come fiddler, come dancer Come ploughman or come sailor
Come rich man, come poor man Come fool or come witty
Come any man at all Won’t you marry out of pity? 

John Kirkpatrick 1994

Under the ground lay Old King Coal, he lay most peacefully
He ruled in might and splendor, there was none so grand as he
But men came along to tunnel him out and topple him from his throne
They tore him down to steal his crown for the power in the old black stone

Chorus:
There’s fire in the heart of Old King Coal
There’s the strength of centuries in his soul
There’s a power that grows where his black blood flows
So here’s to Old King Coal

So they scratched him, hacked him, and harried him out, they ripped him from his bed
And they blast his bones asunder, they’d sworn to seen him dead
They they carried him out to the sun’s bright light which blinded him in the eye
And the blood did drain from every vein until they’d drained him dry

Then they cracked his bones on the grinding stones, how gleefully they did grind
Oh how they pulverized him, turned him to dust so fine
Then they sprayed him into the furnace fire and burned him in the air
With a mighty blast, they burned him fast, as he prayed his final prayer

And his soul cried out with a final song as he reached his final hour
And his heart it burst with singing, so mighty was the power
And he sang the water into steam and the steam made the wheels fly round
And the song ran on both pure and strong til the wires hummed with its sound

Out of the darkness there comes light, out of the earth comes fire
Out of the cold comes comfort, as his bones go blazing higher
And his soul flies out through the air we breathe and down on the earth we tread
That humankind may not forget that Old King Coal is dead 

Barrie Temple 2001

The Wilderness Yet: https://thewildernessyet.bandcamp.com/track/old-jacky-frost-2

Chorus:
Old Jacky Frost is knockin’ at the door (Don’t let him in, no way sir)
Old Jacky Frost, been here before (Don’t let him in, no way sir)
Whether you’re rich or whether you’re poor
He’ll come knockin’ all around your door
Give him a chance, he’ll be in for sure (Don’t let him in, no way sir)

Summer’s lost and the winter’s come (Don’t let him in, no way sir)
Days are short and the nights are long (Don’t let him in, no way sir)
Hear him knocking, don’t complain
See his star on the window pane
Comes the winter, come what may (Don’t let him in, no way sir)

See the sheep in the winter snow
All forlorn, nowhere to go
Coats so thick, the sun don’t shine
Oh how I wish that coat were mine
To glad the heart so warm and fine

See his breath freeze in the air
Older, colder everywhere
Head bowed down, he’ll make you pray
For the warmth and pleasure of a summer’s day
Old Jacky Frost, he’ll be far away

Spring will come and rise again
Jack in the Green will bring his friends
Fight the fight, defy the foe
Old Jacky Frost, he will have to go
He’ll be back sooner than you know

Harry Wincott 1893

Some mates and I in a public house were playing dominoes one night
When all of a sudden in the pot-man came with his face all chalky white.
“What’s up?” says Brown, “Have you seen a ghost? Have you seen your Aunt Mariah?”
“My Aunt Mariah be blown,” says he, “The bloomin’ pub’s on fire!”

Chorus:
Oh there was Brown, upside down, mopping up the whisky off the floor.
“Booze, booze!” the firemen cried as they came a-knocking at the door.
“Don’t let ’em in till it’s all mopped up!”; someone shouted “McIntyre!”
And we all got blue blind paralytic drunk when the Old Dun Cow caught fire.

Old Johnson rushed to the port-wine tub and gave it just a few hard knocks.
He started taking off his pantaloons, likewise his shoes and socks.
“Hold on,” says Tibbs, “if you want to wash your feet there’s a tub of old ale here.
Don’t wash your feet in the port-wine tub when we’ve still got some old stale beer.”

Just then there came such an awful crash, half the bloomin’ roof gave way.
We were doused by the fireman’s hose but still we were all gay.
We got some sacks and some old tin tacks and we bunged ourselves inside,
And we all got drinking good old Scotch when the Old Dun Cow caught fire. 

trad 

Nicole Singer & Becky Wright: https://beckyandnicole.bandcamp.com/track/the-old-churchyard

Come, come with me out to the old churchyard,
I well know those paths ‘neath the soft green sward.
Friends slumber in there that we want to regard;
We will trace out the names in the old churchyard.

Mourn not for them, their trials are o’er,
And why weep for those who will weep no more?
For sweet is that sleep, though cold and hard
Their pillows may be in the old churchyard.

I know that it’s vain when our friends depart
To breathe kind words to a broken heart;
And I know that the joy of life is marred
When we follow lost friends to the old churchyard.

But were I at rest ‘neath yonder tree,
Oh, why would you weep, my friends, for me?
I’m so weary, so wayworn, why would you retard
The peace I seek in the old churchyard?

Why weep for me, for I’m anxious to go
To that haven of rest where no tears ever flow;
And I fear not to enter that dark lonely tomb
Where our saviour has lain an’ he conquered the gloom.

I rest in the hope that one bright day
Sunshine will burst through these prisons of clay,
And old Gabriel’s trumpet and the voice of the Lord
Will wake up the dead in the old churchyard. 

Claire Rothrock, Milton Yakus, and Allan Jeffrey  1957

The original recording by Patti Page sold over a million copies. Wikipedia: "Hailed by Cape Cod natives as the 'unofficial Cape Cod Anthem, if ever there was one,' the song has been credited with 'putting the Cape on the map' and helping to establish Cape Cod as a major tourist destination."

If you’re fond of sand dunes and salty air
Quaint little villages here and there

Refrain:
You’re sure to fall in love with old Cape Cod

If you like the taste of a lobster stew
Served by a window with an ocean view

Bridge:
Winding roads that seem to beckon you
Miles of green beneath the skies of blue
Church bells chimin’ on a Sunday morn
Remind you of the town where you were born

If you spend an evening, you’ll want to stay
Watching the moonlight on Cape Cod Bay

C.W. Murphy & Dan Lipton 1908

Chorus:
Oh! Oh! Antonio! He’s gone away
Left me alonio All on my ownio
I’d like to meet him with his new sweetheart
Then up shall go Antonio and his ice cream cart.

In quaint native dress an Italian maid
Was deep in distress as the streets she strayed
Searching in every part for her false sweetheart And his ice cream cart
Her English was bad it cannot be denied
And so to herself in Italian she cried

So sad grew the plight of this fair young lass
She’d faint at the sight of an ice cream glass
She dreamed nigh every day he’d come back to stay But he’d fade away
Her old hurdy-gurdy all day she’d parade
And this she would sing to each tune that it played:

She sought in despair for Antonio,
And looked everywhere that she thought he’d go.
Soon she to pine began as each face she’d scan For her ice cream man.
She faded away, but they say in the street
The ghost of that girl in Italian repeats: 

Alex Ellis 2024

Source story. Tune: Chi Mi Na Morbeanna

Chorus:
Haul it up, turn the winch carefully
Splice it in, tow the line undersea
Cables that unite us all globally
Who else will keep the world whole?

Internet cables lie taut under ocean waves
Old men who fix them with old boats and older ways
Fear the lines snapping and ripping a life away
Who else will keep the world whole?

My name’s Mitsuyoshi, I’m Ocean Link’s engineer
Measuring bandwidth and wrestling greasy gears
I built this boat, now I’ve lived on her thirty years
Who else will keep the world whole?

Not much reception for calling your wife and son
But shipboard camaraderie is seriously lots of fun
VHS karaoke when work is done
Who else will keep the world whole?

Trawlers or landslides, every week cables break
It’s days without Internet, canceled flights, paychecks late
Worried for loved ones when you can’t communicate
Who else will keep the world whole?

Before data centers lines went to where people are
Dollars for maintenance are dull but important, our
Service is strong to people both near and far
Who else will keep the world whole? 

Rudyard Kipling 1906 / Peter Bellamy 1970

Of all the trees that grow so fair, Old England to adorn,
Greater are none beneath the Sun, Than Oak and Ash and Thorn.

Chorus:
Sing Oak and Ash and Thorn, good Sirs
All of a Midsummer’s morn!
Surely we sing of no little thing,
In Oak and Ash and Thorn!

Oak of the Clay lived many a day, Or ever Aeneas began;
Ash of the Loam was a lady at home, When Brut was an outlaw man;
Thorn of the Down saw New Troy Town (From which was London born);
Witness hereby the ancientry Of Oak and Ash and Thorn!

Yew that is old in churchyard mould, He breedeth a mighty bow;
Alder for shoes do wise men choose, And beech for cups also.
But when ye have killed, and your bowl is spilled, Your shoes are clean outworn,
Back ye must speed for all that ye need, To Oak and Ash and Thorn!

Ellum she hates mankind, and waits Till every gust be laid,
To drop a limb on the head of him, That anyway trusts her shade:
But whether a lad be sober or sad, Or mellow with ale from the horn,
He’ll take no wrong when he lieth along ‘Neath Oak and Ash and Thorn!

Oh, do not tell the Priest our plight, Or he would call it a sin;
But-we’ve been out in the woods all night, A-conjuring Summer in!
And we bring you news by word of mouth – Good news for cattle and corn –
Now is the Sun come up from the South, With Oak and Ash and Thorn!