Posts

The Arrogant Worms 1992

Oh, I used to be a farmer and I made a living fine
I had a little stretch of land along the CP line
But times were hard and though I tried, the money wasn’t there
And bankers came and took my land and told me fair is fair
I looked for every kind of job, the answer always “no”
Hire you now, they’d always laugh, we just let twenty go!
The government, they promised me a measly little sum
But I’ve got too much pride to end up just another bum

Bridge:
Then I thought who gives a damn if all the jobs are gone
I’m gonna be a PIRATE! on the River Saskatchewan!

Chorus:
Cause it’s a heave-ho! hi-ho! Coming down the plains
Stealing wheat and barley and all the other grains
And it’s a ho-hey! hi-hey! Farmers bar your doors
When you see the Jolly Roger on Regina’s mighty shores

Well you think the local farmers would know that I’m at large
But, just the other day I found an unprotected barge
I snuck up right behind them and they were none the wiser
I rammed their ship, and sank it, and I stole their fertilizer!
A bridge outside of Moose Jaw spans a mighty river
The farmers cross in so much fear, their stomachs are a-quiver
Because the know that TRACTOR JACK! is hiding in the bay
I’ll jump the bridge and knock them cold and sail off with their hay!

Well Mountie Bob he chased me, he was always at my throat
He’d follow on the shoreline because he didn’t own a boat
But cutbacks were a-coming and the Mountie lost his job
Now he’s sailing with me and we call him Salty Bob
A swingin’ sword, and skull n’ bones, and pleasant company
I never pay my income tax and screw the GST – SCREW IT!
Prince Albert down to Saskatoon, I’m the terror of the sea
If ya wanna reach the Co-op, boy, you gotta get by me!

Well, pirate life’s appealing, but you don’t just find it here
I’ve heard that in Alberta, there’s a band of buccaneers
They roam the Athabasca, from Smith to Fort McKay
And you’re gonna lose your Stetson if you have to pass their way
Well winter is a-coming and a chill is in the breeze
Our pirate days are over once the river starts to freeze
I’ll be back in springtime, but now I’ve to go
I hear there’s lots of plundering down in New Mexico! 

Brian Lindsay & Arthur Davis 2015

Lake Ethel is real and 3 hours east of Seattle. 

Brian Lindsay & Arthur Davis

Chorus:
It was up on sweet Lake Ethel’s shore I could stay forevermore
Grand, majestic, so serene Sweet Ethel, Lake of Dreams

Twas in the merry month of May From Bellingham we sped away
For a sunny hike in the North Cascades Our shorts and sunscreen on!
For Lake Augusta we were bound But a fire had burned it to the ground
So we picked right up and we turned around Fate brought us Ethel’s way!

The clouds did roll and the sun did shine The sweat did bead as the trail we climbed
Then suddenly the light did blind The snow was 12 feet deep!
As the frosty snow obscured our trail We blindly trudged o’er hill and dale
Then our map revealed that we had failed We were 23 miles astray!

At dawn we launched for Ethel dear With dreams of water crystal clear
But then we saw as we drew near An iceberg shore to shore!
Despite the berg we found a pool And we fished for hours with a fishing tool
We felt a bite and began to drool The trout was 3 yards long!

Twas in the merry month of May That we with Ethel parted ways
But until the next time we do say Sweet Ethel fare thee well 

Brian McNeill, 1980

The first song McNeill wrote for Battlefield Band. The Falkirk Tryst was one of the biggest cattle markets in Europe; it started in the 1770s, hit its peak in the 1840s, and the advent of railways led to its steady decline until closing around 1900. Wars in Germany that the UK was involved in during that time occurred in 1792-1797, 1806-1815, and 1848. The American Civil War disrupted the cotton supply for the Scottish weaving economy, and adoption of tractors in the UK began in the mid-1800s but weren't widespread until the mid-20th century.

Come bonnie lass, lie near me, An let the brandy cheer ye
For the road frae Fife tae Falkirk’s lang An cauld an wet an weary
My trade it is the weavin’ In the bonnie toun o Leven
An we’ll drink a health tae the farmers’ dames Wha’ll buy our claith the morn.

Chorus:
You can see them aa, the lads o the fair Lads frae the Forth an the Carron water
Workin lads an lads wi gear Lads wha’d sell ye the provost’s dochter
Sodjers back frae the German wars Peddlers up frae the border
An lassies wi an eye for mair than the kye At the trysting fair at Falkirk.

Come, Geordie, haud the pony, For the path is steep an stony
An its three lang weeks frae the Isle o’ Skye An the beasts are thin an bony
We’ll tak the last o the siller An buy oursels a gill or two
An drink to the lads wha’ll buy our kye In Falkirk toun the morn

Staun hear an I’ll show ye There’s the toun below ye
But we’d best bide here in the barn the nicht For the nightwatch dinna know ye
My brother, he’s a ploughman An I’m for the feeing now, man
An we’ll drink tae the price o the hairvest corn In Falkirk toun the morn.

The wark o the weaver’s over Likewise the days o the drover
An the ploughboy sits on a tractor nou Too high to see the clover
The warkin’s no sae steady, But the lads are aye still ready
Tae drink a health tae the working man In Falkirk toun the morn. 

trad 

Collected by the Reverend Geoffry Hill in Durrington and published in his 1898 book Wiltshire Folk Songs and Carols

The Teacups: https://haystackrecords.bandcamp.com/track/labouring-man

You Englishmen of each degree, A moment listen unto me.
To please you all I do intend, With these few lines that I do to pen.
From day to day you all may see, The poor are frowned on by degree.
By them, you know who never can Do without the labouring man.

Chorus:
Now let England do the best she can,
She can’t do without the labouring man.
Old England always leads the van,
But not without the labouring man.

In former days, you all do know, A poor man cheerful used to go.
Neat and clean, upon my life, With his children and his wife.
And for his labour it was said, A fair day’s wages he was paid.
But now to live he hardly can- May God protect the labouring man.

When Bonaparte and Nelson too, And Wellington at Waterloo.
Were fighting both by land and sea, The poor man gained the victory!
Their hearts were cast in honour’s mould, The soldiers and the sailors bold.
And every battle, you must understand Was carried by the labouring man.

Now, if wars do rise again, And England be in want of men.
They’ll have to search the country round To find the lads that plough the ground,
Who harrow the ground and till the wheat, And every danger boldly meet.
For England always leads the van, But not without the labouring man. 

Michael McKean & Annette O’Toole 2003

From "A Mighty Wind", a mockumentary about a tribute concert for a fictional luminary of the American folk revival.

Chorus:
Oh, when the veil of dreams has lifted
And the fairy tales have all been told
There’s a kiss at the end of the rainbow
More precious than a pot of gold

In tales of ancient glory
Every knight and maiden fair
Shall be joined when the quest is over
And a kiss is the oath that they swear

My sweet, my dear, my darling
You’re so far away from me
Though an ocean of tears divides us
Let the bridge of our love span the sea 

trad 

Mashup of the versions by Anna & Elizabeth and Malinky. After the tune was thought to be lost, it was collected from John Stickle of Baltasound, Unst, Shetland in 1947 by Patrick Shuldham-Shaw, but it's much older. Retelling of Orpheus myth translated from maybe medieval Middle Danish? 

There lived a lady in yon hall (Green the wood grows early)
Her name was Lady Liza Bell (Where the hart runs yearly)

Her king he had a hunting gone / He left their bed before the dawn

A cunning Fairy with his dart / Pierced that lady to the heart

When the king came home at noon / He looked for Lady Liza Bell

His nobles unto him did say / Your lady was wounded, now she’s dead

Though they’ve ta’en her life from me / But her corpse they’ll never hae

The king he called his nobles all / To waltz her corpse intae the hall

But when the lords were fallen asleep / Out of the hall her corpse did creep

The king away to the woods he’s gone / And there he’s sat upon a stone

He sat there for seven years / Til a company ’round him nears

Some did ride and some did run / He saw his lady, them among

And after them the king has gone / But when he came, ’twas a grey stone

Now he’s sat him down full well / And he’s ta’en out his pipes to play

First he played the notes o’ noy / Then he played the notes o’ joy

Then he played a merry reel / That would make a sick heart heal

There came a boy from out the hall / You’re bidden to play amongst us all

The King of Fairy then did say / What will you have for all your play?

For my play I will ye tell / I’ll have my Lady Liza Bell

You take your lady and go home / And she’ll be queen of all you own

He took his lady and went home / And she was queen of all her own 

John McCutcheon 1988

When I was a little kid not so long ago
I had to learn a lot of stuff I didn’t even know
How to dress myself, tie my shoes, how to jump a rope
How to smile for a picture without looking like a dope
But of all the things I learned my favorite of them all
Was a little poem hanging on the kindergarten wall

Chorus:
Of all you learn here remember this the best:
Don’t hurt each other and clean up your mess
Take a nap everyday, wash before you eat
Hold hands, stick together, look before you cross the street
And remember the seed in the little paper cup:
First the root goes down and then the plant grows up!

Well, it was first, second, third grade, fourth grade, too
Where I had to learn the big things the big kids do
To add, subtract, and multiply, read and write and play
How to sit in a little uncomfortable desk for nearly half a day
But of all they taught me my favorite of them all
Was the little poem hanging on the kindergarten wall

But lately I’ve been worried as I look around and see
An awful lot of grown-ups acting foolish as can be
Now I know there’s lots of things to know I haven’t mastered yet
But it seems there’s real important stuff that grown-ups soon forget
So I’m sure we’d all be better off if we would just recall
That little poem hanging on the kindergarten wall 

trad

Come aw ye Kincardine lads And tak a dram wi me
We’ll gang doun tae Sandy’s still And tak the barley bree

Chorus:
Hye dum a dou dum a daddie-o (x4)

Sandy rade his auld gray mare He rode tae break o day
Sayin, “Laddie, laddie, gaun yersel The gaugers are on thair way.”

The gaugers, thay came tae the hoose Thay went richt up the stair
Thay searched the room, aw richt aroon’ But thay fund nae bottles thare

Thay poued the blankets aff the bed Thay threw them on the flair
Maggie, she cam runnin ben Sayin, “Ye beggars, get oot’n the door.”

Sandy Callum made the still He made it tae a plan
So it would stand away oot there And mak the doubles strang

 

 

trad 

Sandy Paton 1959: "Eloise Linscott first published it in 'Folk Songs of Old New England' in 1939... Linscott had the song from Lucy Allen of West Newton, MA. Its text seems to be made of fragments from other songs." including the Scottish Lea-boy's/Lichtbob's Lassie. Lucy Allen appears to have been an educator who attended Smith College and lived the last 25 years of her life with her companion Ruby Keefer. There may be an 1899 collection of songs sung by the Allen family that Lucy published. The lyrics Wikipedia gives as in Linscott are close to those heard today. Karen Dalton's 1971 version seems influential.

When I first came to town, They called me the roving jewel
Now they’ve changed their tune, They call me Katy Cruel,
Oh, diddle, lully day, Oh, de little lioday.

Chorus:
Oh that I was where I would be, Then would I be where I am not
Here I am where I must be, Where I would be, I can not go?
Oh, diddle, lully day, Oh, de little lioday.

When I first came to town, They brought me the bottles plenty;
Now they’ve changed their tune, They bring me the bottles empty,

I know who I love, And I know who does love me;
I know where I’m going, And I know who’s going with me,

Eyes as black as coal, Lips as bright as cherry,
And ’tis her delight To make the young girls merry,

I’ll dye my petticoats red, Face them with the yellow,
And I’ll tell all the lads My own heart I will follow.

When I first came to town They called me the roving jewel
Now they’ve changed their tune They call me Katy Cruel 

trad 

The Johnson Girls, on a sleeve note, give the following origin: "the text we use is Barry Finn's, who heard the song from a Polish chantey singer, Mareck Schakowsky, in the summer of 1992 during the tall ships visit to Boston. Mareck got it from Roy Harris. Roy found the tune and a fragmentary text on a recording in the Robert W. Gordon collection at the Library of Congress. Just as Roy and Barry have provided verses today, so did the sailors and collectors in their day."

Chorus (x2)
Juliana, Juliana where do you go? (Ah ha, me London Julie)

Well she swore she’d prove true to me
She spent all my money fast and free

Well we went for a loving walk
And we had a long loving talk

She took me to her favorite park
And we stayed there til after dark

And then as I put out to sea
A soldier took her on his knee

Up aloft, up aloft this spar must go
Up aloft, up aloft from down below

Around Cape Horn there’s ice and snow
But around Cape Horn we’ve got to go

The mate is a-bawlin’ down below
So heave away, let’s stamp and go