MacFormat 1995 November/macformat-030.iso/Shareware in MacFormat/The Digital Tradition 2.0/dt.songs

Text File | 1995-05-15 | 6.7 MB | 229,799 lines | [TEXT/McDT]

THE 1913 MASSACRE
(Woody Guthrie)

Take a trip with me in nineteen thirteen
To Calumet, Michigan, in the copper country.
I'll take you to a place called Italian Hall
Where the miners are having their big Christmas ball.

I'll take you through a door, and up a high stairs.
Singing and dancing is heard everywhere,
I will let you shake hands with the people you see
And watch the kids dance round that big Christmas tree.

You ask about work and you ask about pay;
They'll tell you that they make less than a dollar a day,
Working the copper claims, risking their lives,
So it's fun to spend Christmas with children and wives.

There's talking and laughing and songs in the air,
And the spirit of Christmas is there everywhere,
Before you know it, you're friends with us all
And you're dancing around and around in the hall.

Well, a little girl sits down by the Christmas tree lights
To play the piano, so you gotta keep quiet.
To hear all this fun you would not realize
That the copper-boss thug-men are milling outside.

The copper-boss thugs stuck their heads in the door
One of them yelled and he screamed, "There's a fire!"
A lady, she hollered, "There's no such a thing!
Keep on with your party, there's no such a thing."

A few people rushed, and it was only a few
"It's only the thugs and the scabs fooling you."
A man grabbed his daughter and carried her down
But the thugs held the door and he could not get out.

And then others followed, a hundred or more
But most everybody remained on the floor.
The gun-thugs they laughed at their murderous joke,
While the children were smothered on the stair by the door.

Such a terrible sight I never did see
We carried our children back up to their tree.
The scabs outside still laughed at their spree
And the children that died there were seventy-three.

The piano played a slow funeral tune
And the town was lit up by a cold Christmas moon,
The parents they cried and the miners they moaned,
"See what your greed for money has done."

Note: In Calumet, Michigan, in 1913 hired copper company thugs
broke up a striker's Christmas party by shouting "fire", and then
barring the door. In the panic hat ensued, 73 children were
smothered to death.
@union @work @death @Xmas
filename[ MASS1913
play.exe MASS1913
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE 8 DAYS OF CHANNUKAH
(Tom Paley?)

On the first day of Channukah, my bube gave to me
A bagel mit a schtick lox.

Two kreplach
Three gefilte fishes
Four knadlech
Five matzo balls
Six kosher dills
Seven pickled herrings

bubkis* (omit others on this day)

*: nothing
Note: remembered imperfectly, but should be OK.
@parody @seasonal
filename[ CHAN8DAY
play.exe XMAS12DY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
9420 WOGAN TERRACE
(Bob Lusk)

My father, talked to the man who worked the tugboats
My father, knew how to ride a horse and shoot a gun
My father, rode the rails
My father, worked in the apple orchards
My father, was in the army         My father, worked in a factory
My father, had a grocery store for 30 years,
          and raised 7 children
My father, came to visit me in the stockade
          during the war in Vietnam
My father, can't understand why I'm trying to make a living
          singing songs

My mother, always smiles
My mother, was born and raised down on the farm
My mother, worked in a department store
My mother, married my father,
          and moved north
My mother, worked in the grocery store for 30 years
          bore and raised 7 children
My mother, refused to come and see me when I was in the stockade
          during the war in Vietnam
My mother, can't understand why I'm trying to make a living
          singing songs

Me, I'm just standing here
I, was born in Brooklyn
I had an unhappy childhood
I worked in the grocery store
I was drafted
I refused to go to Vietnam
Now, I'm just standing here
And sometimes, I can't understand why I'm trying to make a living
          singing songs

copyright Bob Lusk
filename[ WOGANTRR
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A-BEGGIN' I WILL GO

Of all the trades in England the beggin' is the best
For when a beggar's tired, he can sit him down and rest

     And a-beggin' I will go-o-o
     And a-beggin' I will go

I've a poke for me ma'le and another for me rye
I've a bottle by me side, to drink when I am dry

     CHORUS

I've a poke for me salt an another for me malt
I've a pair of little crutches, you should see how I can halt.

     CHORUS

I've been abeggin' seven years with me ol' wooden leg
For lame I've been, since I was born, and so I'm forced to beg

     CHORUS

In a hollow tree I pass the night, and there I pay no rent
Providence provides for me, and I am well content

     CHORUS

-----------------------------------------------------------------

English Traditional
Words from "Folksongs of Britain and Ireland", copyright 1984 by
  Oak Publications.
Tune "ABEGGIN" from Popular Music of the Olden Time, Chapell
Note: Tune used for a large number of songs like A-Hunting I Will Go,
  A-Hawking, A-Bowling A-Fishing etc.
recorded by Ewan MacColl on Manchester Angel and Carthy &
   Swarbrick
@beg
filename[ ABEGGIN
play.exe ABEGGIN
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A-LUMBERING WE GO

Come all ye sons of freedom throughout old Michigan,
Come all ye gallant lumbermen, come list to a shantyman.
From the banks of the Muskegon where the rapid waters flow
We'll range the wildwoods o'er while a-lumbering we go.

The music of our burnished axe shall make the woods resound,
And many a lofty ancient pine shall tumble to the ground.
At night around our shanty fire we'll sing while rude winds blow
We'll range the wildwoods o'er while a-lumbering we go.

I am a jolly shantyboy as you shall soon discover,
To all the dodges I am fly, a hustling pinewoods rover.
A peavey hook it is my pride, an axe I well can handle,
To fell a tree or punch a bull get rattling Johnny Randle.

I met a girl in Saginaw and she lives with her mother
And I defy all Michigan to find such another;
She's tall and slim, her hair is red, her face is plump and pretty,
She's my daisy Sunday-best-day girl, and her front name stands for
     Kitty.

I took her to a dance one night. A mossback gave the bidding
Silver Jack he bossed the shebang, and big Dan played the fiddle.
We danced and drank the livelong night with fights between the dancing
Till Silver Jack cleaned out the ranch and set the mossbacks prancing.

From Fowke, Lumbering Songs of the Northern Woods.
@logger    @work
filename[ LUMBRIN2
play.exe LUMBRIN2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A-ROVIN' (1)

In Amsterdam there lived a Maid
     Mark well what I do say!
In Amsterdam there lived a maid
And she was mistress of her trade
     I'll go no more a-rovin' with you fair maid
     A-rovin', a-rovin', since rovin's been my ru-i-in
     I'll go no more a-rovin' with you fair maid

One night I crept from my abode
     Mark etc.
One night I crept from my abode
To meet this fair maid down the road
     I'll go etc.

I met this fair maid after dark
And took her to her favorite park.

I took this fair maid for a walk
And we had such a loving talk.

I put me arm around her waist
Sez she, "Young man, you're in great haste!"

I put my hand upon her knee
Sez she, "Young man you're rather free!"

I put my hand upon her thigh
Sez she, "Young man you're rather high!"

*

She sore that she'd be true to me
But spent me pay-day fast and free

In three weeks time I was badly bent
Then off to sea I sadly went.

In a bloodboat Yank bound round Cape Horn
Me boots and clothes were all in pawn

Bound up Cape Stiff through ice and snow
And up the coast to Cally-o

An' then back to the Liverpool Docks
Saltpeter stowed in our boots an' socks

Now when I got home from sea
A soger had her on his knee.

* I've omitted 7 of Hugill's rather clumsy attempts to
     sanitize the song. If you can't figure out how an
     "anatomical progression" works, you're
     beyond help. RG
From Shanties from the Seven Seas, Hugill
@bawdy @sailor @work
filename[ AROVIN1
play.exe AROVIN.1
play.exe AROVIN.2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A-ROVIN' (2)

In Portsmouth town there lived a maid
     Bless you young women
In Portsmouth town there lived a maid
     Do mind what I do say!
In Portsmouth town there lived a maid
The British Navy was her trade,
     I'll go no more a-rovin' with you fair maid.
     A-rovin', a-rovin', since rovin's been my ru-i-in
     I'll go no more a-rovin' with you fair maid.

She swore to me that she was true
     Bless etc.
She swore to me that she was true
     Do mind etc.
She's true to me, she's true to you
She's true to the whole damn Navy, too
     I'll go no more etc.

I put me hand upon her toe
Sez she,"Young man, you're rather low"

I put me hand upon her knee
Sez she,"Young man, you're makion' free"

I put me hand upon her thigh
Sez she,"Young man, you're drawin' nigh"

I put me hand upon her thatch
Sez she,"Young man, that's my main hatch"

I slipped me mainmast to her blocks
Sez she, "Young man, I've got the pox!"

@bawdy @sailor @work
filename[ AROVIN2
play.exe AROVIN.2
play.exe AROVIN.1
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A-SMOKING HIS CIGAR

At Donelson the rebel horde
Had gathered in their might,
Determined there with fire ans sword
To make a dreadful fight.
But gallant Foote with his command
Went in by water route,
While Grant besieged upon the land,
And smoked the rebels out.

cho: Where volleyed thunder loudest pealed
     Along the front of war;
     The Gen'ral calmly viewed the field
     A-smoking his cigar.

And Beauregard did swear, methinks,
Upon his bended knee
That his good horse should have some drinks
All from the Tennessee.
But ah! a "slip 'twixt cup and lip"
that sweet illusion broke;
For Grant just smote them thigh and hip
And made the rebels smoke.

The doughty Pem, at Vicksburg, too,
Did naught of Yankees fear;
Grant passed his guns in quick review
And gained the city's rear.
He pitched his tent, deployed his forse
And lighted his cigar,
Said he, "Misguided lads, of course,
You know just where you are."

And now, let politicans wait
There's work for men to do;
We'll place one in the Chair of State
Who wears the army blue.
The people know just what they want
LESS TALK, and no more war
For PRESIDENT, ULYSSES GRANT
A-SMOKING HIS CIGAR!

From The American History Songbook, Silverman
@America  @war @Civil @political
filename[ HISCIGAR
play.exe HISCIGAR
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE A25 SONG

They say in the Air Force a landing's OK
If the pilot gets out and can still walk away,
But in the Fleet Air Arm the prospect is grim
If the landing's piss-poor and the pilot can't swim.

cho: Cracking show, I'm alive,
     But I still have to render my A25.

I fly for a living and not just for fun,
I'm not very anxious to hack down a Hun,
And as for deck landings at night in the dark,
As I told Wings this morning,'Blow that for a lark.'

When the batsman gives "lower" I always go higher,
I drift o'er to starboard and prang my Seafire.
The boys in the "Goofers" all think that I'm green,
But I get a commission from Supermarine.

They gave me a Barra to beat up the Fleet,
I shot up the Rodney and Nelson a treat,
I forgot the high mast that sticks out from Formid,
And a seat in the "Goofers" was worth fifty quid.

I thought I was coming in high enough but
I was fifty feet up when the batsman gave "cut",
And loud in my earphones the sweet angels sang:
"'Float, float, foat, float, float, float, float, float, float, float,
    PRANG!"

When you come o'er the round-down and see Wings' frown
You can safely assume that your hook isn't down.
A dirty great barrier looms up in front,
And you hear Wings shout, "Switch off your engine, you fool!"

The Wings of St Merryn in a "Reliant" one day
Set out for Trelliga for tea for to stay,
But as he got there his engine cut out,
And now all you hear is Wings' painful shout:

I swing down the deck in my Martlet Mark Four,
Loud in my ear-'oles the Cyclone's smooth roar:
"Chuff-clank-clank, chuff-clank-clank, chuff-clank-clank-clink!'
Away wing on pom-pom, away life in Drink

I few ovet Jay-pan in my F.O. 2
Taking some pictures, admiring the view,
When up came the flack and I turned round about,
And that's why I sit in my dinghy and shout:

I came back to England and much to my wrath
They gave me some dual in an old Tiger Moth,
Which does fifty-five knots or something fantastic,
Which is bloody good-o on some string and elastic.

One night in the 'Wardroom a subby named Bash,
An awkward young bastard with a ginger moustache,
Said, "Chaps I must drown all my sorrows in gin,
I've been twelve hours ashore and I can't get it in."

I sat in the starter awaiting the kick,
Amusing myself by rotating the stick.
Down came the green flag, the plane gave a cough,
"Gor Blimey," said 'Wings'," he has tossed himself off."

Now in the Luftwaffe they never complain
Since Goering invented the pilotless plane.
They sit in the crew room and sing all the day,
And this is the song that they sing so they say:

The moral of this story is easy to see,
A Fleet Air Arm pilot you never should be,
But stay on the shore and get two rings or three
And go out every night on the piss down at Lee.

Cracking show, I'm alive,
But I still have to render my A25.

Note: is customary for the rhyme set up for the end of verse six to remain
     unfulfilled, presumably because singers have discovered that a
     bigger laugh ensues when a milder epithet is substituted for
     the obvious one.-CT
The A25 is the accident report form, lengthy, detailed and
     agonizing. RG

From Grey Funnel Lines, Tawney
@military @navy @English @WWII
filename[ A25
play.exe VILDINAH
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABDUL ABULBUL AMIR

The sons of the prophet were hardy and bold,
And quite unaccustomed to fear,
But the bravest of these was a man, I am told
Named Abdul Abulbul Amir.

This son of the desert, in battle aroused,
Could spit twenty men on his spear.
A terrible creature, both sober and soused
Was Abdul Abulbul Amir.

When they needed a man to encourage the van,
Or to harass the foe from the rear,
Or to storm a redoubt, they had only to shout
For Abdul Abulbul Amir.

There are heroes aplenty and men known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Czar;
But the bravest of these was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

He could imitate Irving, play Euchre and pool
And perform on the Spanish Guitar.
In fact, quite the cream of the Muscovite team
Was Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

The ladies all loved him, his rivals were few;
He could drink them all under the bar.
As gallant or tank, there was no one to rank
With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

One day this bold Russian had shouldered his gun
And donned his most truculent sneer
Downtown he did go, where he trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir

"Young man" quoth Bulbul, "has life grown so dull,
That you're anxious to end your career?
Vile infidel! Know, you have trod on the toe
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."

"So take your last look at the sunshine and brook
And send your regrets to the Czar;
By this I imply you are going to die,
Mr. Ivan Skavinsky Skivar."

Quoth Ivan, "My friend, your remarks, in the end,
Will avail you but little, I fear,
For you ne'er will survive to repeat them alive,
Mr. Abdul Abulbul Amir!"

Then this bold mameluke drew his trusty chibouque
With a cry of "Allah Akbar!"
And with murderous intent, he ferociously went
For Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

Then they parried and thrust and they side-stepped and
   cussed
'Till their blood would have filled a great pot.
The philologist blokes, who seldom crack jokes,
Say that hash was first made on that spot.

They fought all that night, 'neath the pale yellow moon;
The din, it was heard from afar;
And great multitudes came, so great was the fame
of Abdul and Ivan Skivar.

As Abdul's long knife was extracting the life -
In fact, he was shouting "Huzzah!" - -
He felt himself struck by that wily Kalmuck,
Count Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

The sultan drove by in his red-breasted fly,
Expecting the victor to cheer;
But he only drew nigh to hear the last sigh
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir.

Czar Petrovich, too, in his spectacles blue
Rode up in his new crested car.
He arrived just in time to exchange a last line
With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

A loud-sounding splash from the Danube was heard
Resounding o'er meadows afar;
It came from the sack fitting close to the back
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skovar.

There's a tomb rises up where the blue Danube flows;
Engraved there in characters clear;
"Ah stranger, when passing, please pray for the soul
Of Abdul Abulbul Amir."

A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,
"Neath the light of the pale polar star;
And the name that she murmurs as oft as she weeps
Is Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Written in 1877 by Percy French, an Irish music hall entertainer.
A London publisher ripped him off an printer copies of the song
with no author's name listed, so most sources say the authorship
of the song is "unknown'" which is a great shame.  The setting is
the Crimean War in the 1850's.  Few people take this song
seriously, so I'll suggest that you look carefully for the truths
behind the jest. - Bill Steel

Recorded by Bill Steel on Chocolate Chip Cookies, Swallowtail ST-
7.
Also see Shay ,Pious Friends and Drunken Companions. RG
@Russian @fight @soldier
filename[ ABDULBUL
play.exe ABDULBUL
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABDUL EL BULBUL, EMIR!

In the harems of Egypt it's good to behold
The fairest of harlots appear,
But the fairest, a Greek
Was owned by a sheik!
Named Abdul el Bulbul Emir!

A traveling brothel came into the town
Run by a pimp from afar
Whose great reputation
Had traveled the nation:
'Twas Ivan Skidavitsky Skavar!

Abdul the Bulbul arrived with his bride
A prize whose eyes shone like a star
He claimed he could prong
More cunts with his dong
Than Ivan Skidavitsky Skavar!

A day was arranged for the spectacle great;
A visit was planned by the Czar!
And the curbs were all lined
With harlots reclined
n honour of Ivan Skavar!

They met on the track with their tools hanging slack
Dressed only in shoes and a leer,
Both were fast on the rise
But folks gasped at the size
Of Abdul el Bulbul Emir!

The cunts were all shorn, and no rubbers adorned
The prongs of the pimp and the peer,
But the pimp's steady stroke
Soon left without hope
The chance of the Bulbul Emir!

They worked thru the night til the dawn's early light
The clamor was heard from afar
The multitudes came
To applaud the ball game
Of Abdul and Ivan Skavar!

When Ivan had finished, he turned to the Greek,
And laughed when she shivered in fear
She swallowed his pride,
He buggered the bride
Of Abdul el Bulbul, Emir!

When Ivan was done, and was wiping his gun,
He bent down to polish his gear;
He felt, up his ass,
A  hard pecker pass;
'Twas Abdul el Bulbul, Emir!

The crowd loudly howled that it was a foul,
They were ordered to part, by the Czar,
But fast they were jammed;
The pecker was crammed
In Ivan Skidavitsky Skavar!

Now, the cream of the joke, when apart they were broke
Was laughed at for years by the Czar:
For Abdul the Bulbul
Left most of his tool
In Ivan Skidavitsky Skavar!

The fair Grecian maiden a sad vigil keeps
With a husband whose tastes have turned queer...
She longs for the dong
That once did belong
To Abdul el Bulbul, Emir!

@parody @bawdy @contest
filename[ ABDULBL2
play.exe ABDULBUL
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABE SAMMON'S APPLEJACK
(Bob Lusk)

I'd like a drink of Applejack
Or a little drink of Ale,
That famous stuff Abe Sammons made
In the town of Rosendale.
It was good for all that ailed you,
It would drive away the blues;
Why, it made a long-ear rabbit
Bite a bull-dog right in two

It cured a man in Rock Locks
They had given up for dead;
He took a drink of applejack
And jumped right out of bed.
A drink of Abe's old apple
Just would make you talk of millions
Though you don't have a cent. (sic)

A woman lived in Edyville
Who had a lazy son;
He never did a lick of work
Till he was twenty-one.
One day a neighbor told her
What might induce the lad to work;
One charge of Abe's old apple
Made him labor like a Turk.

In Whiteport lived a pretty girl
Whose age was seventeen;
She loved a fine young farmer
By the name of Silas Green.
She would ask him to go walking,
Then invite him to her house;
But he'd sit there by the hour,
Just as quiet as a mouse.

One night she mixed him up
A drink of toddy for his cold;
A drop or two of Sammons' best
Just made young Silas bold;
They're married now and settled
She's happy as a queen,
Thanks to that shot of apple
Which she gave to Silas Green

Oh! the juice of Ulster's apples
Will bring back many a dream
Of the folks away up yonder--
Up in Rosendale I mean.
I'd like to turn the old clock
Some forty years or more
Just for a night of dances
On Abe Sammons' ballroom floor

I'd drink a hooker just before
The hour for the ball,
And have another afterwards--
We'd drink it in the hall.
I'd like to dance the Lancers
With the girlI loved the best;
I never will forget the rose
She pinned upon my breast.

I often wish I'd saved those cards
On which the bids were sent;
Inviting you and lady friend
Or lady and her gent.
I'd like to dance to "Home Seet Home"
With those old friends of mine,
And have one good old parting drink
Of apple, ale, or wine;

Then bid them all good morning
As the sun begins to shine
While the band is softly playing
In the days of "Auld Lang Syne."
Kentucky Rye or Bourbon
Or good old New England rum
Might warm the cockles of our hearts
When Winter's chill has come.

But the stuff we most desired
When rude Boreas shook our shacks
Was old Ulster's famous Mountain Dew
Abe Sammon's Applejack.

From a poem by Willy O'Brien,
(From an article " 'Whirling' and Applejack in the Catskills by Norman Studer)
@drink
filename[ APLJCK2
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABE SAMMON'S APPLEJACK
(Bob Lusk)

I'd like a drink of Applejack, or a little drink of ale
That good old stuff Abe Sammons made in the town of Rosendale
You can have your running rivers, your cozy mountain shacks
But just drain all the oceans and put in Applejack

Now, it cured a man at Rock Locks, they'd given up for dead
He took a drink of Applejack, and he jumped right out of bed
It was good for all that ails you, it would drive away the blues
It made a long ear rabbit bite a bullfrog right in two

I'd like a drink of Applejack, or a little drink of ale
That good old stuff Abe Sammons made in the town of Rosendale
You can have your running rivers, your cozy mountain shacks
But just drain all the oceans and put in Applejack

I'd like to turn the clock back some forty years or more
Just for a night of dances on Abe Sammons' bar room floor
I'd like to dance to 'Home Sweet Home' with those old friends of mine
And have one good old parting drink of apple, beer or wine

I'd like a drink of Applejack, or a little drink of ale
That good old stuff Abe Sammons made in the town of Rosendale
You can have your running rivers, your cozy mountain shacks
But just drain all the oceans and put in Applejack

Now Kentucky rye or bourbon, good old New England rum
Might warm the cockles of our hearts when winters days are done
But the juice of Ulster's apples will bring back many a dream
To the folks away up yonder, up in Rosendale I mean

I'd like a drink of Applejack, or a little drink of ale
That good old stuff Abe Sammons made in the town of Rosendale
You can have your running rivers, your cozy mountain shacks
But just drain all the oceans and put in Applejack

(based on a poem by Willy O'Brien
@drink
filename[ APLJCK1
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABILENE

Abilene, Abilene
Prettiest town I ever seen.
Folks down there don't treat you mean
In Abilene, my Abilene.

I sit alone most every night
Watch them trains roll out of sight
Wish that they were carryin' me
To Abilene, my Abilene.

Crowded city, ain't nothin' free
Nothin' in this town for me
Wish to God that I could be
In Abilene, my Abilene.

How I wish that train would come
Take me back where I come from.
Take me where I want to be
In Abilene, my Abilene.

Rotgut whiskey numbs the brain
If I stay here I'll go insane.
Think I need a change of scene
To Abilene, my Abilene.

Outside my window cold rain falls,
Sit here starin' at the walls;
If I was home, I'd be serene
In Abilene, my Abilene.

@home @place
filename[ ABILNE
play.exe ABILNE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABOUT THE BUSH, WILLY

     About the bush, Willy,
       About the beehive,
     About the bush, Willy,
       I'll meet thee alive.

     Then to my ten shillings
       Add you but a groat,
     I'll go to Newcastle,
       And buy a new coat.

     Five and five shillings
       Five and a crown;
     Five and five shillings
       Will buy a new gown.

     Five and five shillings,
       Five and a groat;
     Five and five shillings
       Will buy a new coat.
     ________________________________________________________

     Gullen Trad. Number Rhymes (1950), 45 (no. 118).
[Gullen supposedly reflects rhymes as used in Scotland, but
this is a Northumbrian song, in Bruce & Stokoe (1882), 110,
with its pleasant tune.]  1.4 alive should be belyve, i.e.
soon.

@kids
filename[ BUSHWILI
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABSALOM (ROUND)

Oh, Absalom, Oh Absalom, my son, my son, Oh, Absalom.  Oh
Absalom, my son, my son. Oh Absalom, my son, my son.  Would God
I had died, would God I had died, would God I had died for thee!


@round @religion
filename[ ABSALSON
play.exe ABSALSON
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ABSTRACT INTELLECTUAL THOUGHT

    Now Marx and Engels always taught
    That undue concentration
    On abstract intellectual thought
    Without its application
    Is very bad, and always is
    A source of great confusion,
    And only helps the bougeoisie,
    And not the Revolution.

    So that is why we always try
    To keep a close relation
    Between the statement of the line
    And its practical application.

from the Australian CP,
From Ruthie Gorton of L.A., in Vancouver, 1975.
@political @parody
filename[ ABSTRCT
play.exe VICARBRY
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ACAPULCO GOLD

Me and Marty took a honeymoon,
Below the border 'neath the silvery moon,
I was eighteen and he was twenty two,
Now we're just a-doin' what the young folks do

  We're goin' south, south, to get that
  Acapulco Gold
  Ain't nothin' it can't fix,
  Old dogs can learn new tricks,
  When the streets are lined with bricks
  Of Acapulco Gold

We'd just 'bout decided to cadge the whole thing
But then we thought that we ought to swing
You know the southland's got the keys,
Curin' them cotton pickin' sniffles and sneeze

  refrain

Zig zag polly wolly diddum woddum doo
Hey diddle diddle twenty three skidoo
Me and Marty sure had fun
Acapulco Gold for everyone

  refrain

filename[ ACAPGLD
MC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ACRES OF APPLES
(Les Rice)

I came to the Mid-Hudson Valley
A many a long year ago
I have spent all my time in the orchard
A making those red apples grow

     A making those red apples grow
     A making those red apples grow
     And thinking each year as I labored
     That someday I would make me some dough

I sprayed them and sprayed them and sprayed them
From early in April to fall
Those trees were so loaded with apples
You couldn't see green leaves at all

     You couldn't see green leaves at all
     You couldn't see green leaves at all
     And what did I get for those apples?
     A penny a pound for them all

I have raised in my time enough apples
To feed the whole state of New York
But I never have had enough money
To buy me a good roast of pork

     To buy me a good roast of pork
     To buy me a good roast of pork
     The apples are raised in the valley
     But the money is made in New York

But now I am joining a union
A union of farmers like me
I'm tired of paying the broker
His one hundred and ten percent fee

     His one hundred and ten percent fee
     His one hundred and ten percent fee
     I'd like just a little left over
     A little left over for me

And now that we're all in the union
Some fellows had better get wise
They've stolen our left and our right arms
But we're damned if we'll give them our eyes

     We're damned if we'll give them our eyes
     We're damned if we'll give them our eyes
     The next time they come to the valley
     We'll cut down those bastards to size

Copyright Les Rice

@fruit @union @work
filename[ ACREAPL
play.exe ROSINBOW
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ACROSS THE BLUE MOUNTAIN

One morning, one morning, on morning in May
I overheard a married man to a young girl say
"Arise you up, Pretty Katie, and come along with me
Across the Blue Mountain to the Allegheny

"I'll buy you a horse, love, and a saddle to ride
I'll buy me another'n to ride by your side
We'll stop at every tavern and drink when we are dry
Across the Blue Mountain goes Katie and I"

Well, up stepped her mother, in anger she was then
"Daughter, dear daughter, he is a married man
Besides, there's young men a plenty is handsomer than he
Let him take his own wife to the Allegheny"

"Oh mother, dear mother, he's the man of my heart
Wouldn't it be an awful shame for me and my love to part
I'd envy all the women that ever I did see
Across the Blue Mountain to the Allegheny"

Well the last time I seen him, he was saddled to ride
Katie, his darling, was there by his side
A laughing and a singing and happy to be free
Across the Blue Mountain to the Allegheny

@courting  @west
recorded by Sandy and Caroline Paton
filename[ BLUEMNTN
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAIN

Across the rocky mountain I walked for miles and miles,
Across the rocky mountain I walked for miles and miles,
I'll never forget my mother's looks, God bless her sweetly smile.

There was an old rich farmer who lived in the neighborhood bye;
He had one lonely daughter, On her I cast my eye,
She was most tall and handsome, blue eyes and curly hair,*
There's no other girl in the wide world with her I could compare.

She was courted by three squires; so well they did agree, (2x)
But to no one like Jack the sailor who crossed the deep blue sea.

Well your cheeks they are too rosy, your fingers are too small, (2x)
Oh,  your cheeks they are too rosy to face the cannonball.

No my cheeks are not too rosy, nor fingers not to small, (2x)
O, it would not change my conscience to see ten thousand fall.
She was walking through the battlefield, searching up and down, (2x)
All among the dead and wounded,  her darling Jack she found.

She picked him up all in her arms, she carried him to the town, (2x)
She took him to the doctor, for to quickly heal the wound. '


* for 4-line verse, repeat melody to second line.

Recorded by Roscoe Holcombe, Folkways FA2317
@love @war
filename[ ACROSRCK
play.exe ACROSRCK
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ACROSS THE WESTERN OCEAN

Oh the times are hard and the wages low
     Amelia, where you bound?
The Rocky Mountains is my home
     Across the Western Ocean.

It's a land of plenty there you'll see
I'm off across the Western Sea.

To Liverpool I'll make my way
To Liverpool that Yankee school.

There's Liverpool Pat with his tarpaulin hat
And Yankee John the packet rat.

Beware those packet ships, I pray,
They'll steal your stores and your clothes away.

Note: verses and tunes can be swapped with Leave Her Johnny

From Songs of the Irish in America, Meek
@sailor
filename[ WSTOCEAN
play.exe WSTOCEAN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ADAM AND EVE

Adam and Eve could never believe that Peter the miller was dead
Shut up in a tower for stealing a flower
And never could get a relief
And never could get a relief

They bored a hole in Oliver's nose and pulled therein a string
And drew him around about the town
For murdering Charles our King
For murdering Charles our King

Adam and Eve could never believe that Peter the miller was dead
Shut up in a tower for stealing a flower
And never could get a relief
And never could get a relief

----------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Tim Hart & Maddy Prior on "Folk Songs of Olde England Vol.1" (1968)
Oliver in the second verse is Oliver Cromwell, leader of the Parliamentary
Forces in the English Civil War who executed King Charles I in 1642.

@nonsense @game
filename[ ADAMNEVE
play.exe ADAMNEVE
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ADAM CATCHED EVE (round)

(1)Adam catched Eve by the furbelow, Adam catched Eve by the furbelow
(2)And that's the oldest catch I know, And that's the oldest catch I know,
     And that's the oldest catch I know.
(3)Oh ho! did he so? Did he so? Did he so? Did he so? Did he so?
     Did he so? Did he so?

This was on an old record called "Catches and Glees" (Riverside,
     I think), and was also on Folk Songs of Olde Englane Vol. I, Hart and Prior
@round @bawdy
filename[ ADAMEVE
play.exe ADAMEVE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ADAM GORMAN

'Twas 'round about the Martin-mass,
When north winds froze the lake,
Said Adam Gorman to his men,
"We must some castle take!"

"And what brave castle shall we take,
My merry men and me?
We will go strait to Towie House,
And see that fair ladee."

The lady from her castle wall
Looked o'er both dale and down,
When she beheld a troop of men,
Fast riding through the town.

"O see you not, my merry men all,
See you not what I see?
Methinks I see a troop of men;
I wonder who they be?"

She thought it was her loving lord,
Who homeward riding came.
It was the traitor, Adam,
Who feared not sin nor shame.

She had no sooner decked herself
In silken scarf and gown,
Than Adam Gorman, and his men,
Had close beset the town.

The lady went to her tow'r so high,
For she was in deep dismay;
To see if by fair speech she could
The traitor's purpose stay.

But when he saw the lady safe,
The gates and windows fast,
He fell into a deadly rage
And stormed at her aghast;

"Come down to me, thou lady gay,
Come down, come down to me;
This night thou shall be in my arms,
Tomorrow my bride shalt be."

"I'll not come down, thou false Gorman
I'll not come down to thee;
I'll not forsake my own dear lord,
Tho' he is far from me."

"Give up thy house, thou lady fair,
Give up thy house to me!
Or I shall burn thyself therein,
With thy dear babies three."-

"I'll not give up, thou false Gorman.
Thy threatenings I deny.
If thou dost burn my babes and me,
Then, thou my lord, shall die."

"But reach and give me my pistol,
And charge with speed my gun,
For I must pierce that savage dog
Or we shall be undone."

She from the battlements took aim
As true as she could see;
Two bullets missed the traitor's heart,
One only grazed his knee.

"Now fire the house," cried false Gorman
Enraged with vengeful ire;
False lady thou shalt rue this deed,
When shrieking in the fire."

"Woe unto thee, woe unto thee,
I paid thee well thy fee;
Why then pull out the ground wall stone
That lets in smoke to me?"

"That thou dids't pay my fee and hire,
Full well, I can't deny;
Yet now I'm Adam Gorman's man
I must obey or die."-

O then did speak her little son,
Upon his nurse's knee,
"O mother, dear, give up this house,
The smoke it smothers me."

"I would give all my gold, my child,
And likewise all my fee
For one blast of the western wind,
To blow the smoke from thee"

O then bespoke her daughter dear,
So slender, fair, and small,
"O roll me in a pair of sheets
 And throw me o'er the wall."

They rolled her in a pair of sheets
And threw her o'er the wall,
But on the point of Gorman's spear
She got a deadly fall.

O lovely, lovely was her mouth:
Her cheeks were like the rose
And clear, clear was her yellow hair,
Whereon the red blood flows.

Then with his spear he turned her o'er
O how her face was wan!
"I might have spared that lovely face
To be some man's delight."

"Prepare, prepare, my merry men all,
Ill tidings I do guess:
I cannot see that lovely face
So pale upon the grass."

"Who looks for grief, my master, dear,
Grief still will follow them :
Shall it be said that Gorman bold
Was daunted by this dame?"

But when the lady saw the fire
Come flaming o'er her head,
She wept, and kissed her children dear;
"My babes will soon be dead."-

Then Gorman did his bugle blow
And said, "Away, away!
Since Towie House is all in flames,
We must no longer stay."

And then looked up her own dear lord,
As he came o'er the lea;
He saw his castle in a blaze
As far as he could see.

Then sorely did his mind misgave,
And his heart was full of woe:
"Put on, put on, my trusty men
As fast as you can go!"

"For life and death, my trusty men,
Put on, put on, amain !
For he that doth the hindmost lag
Shall ne'er my favor gain."

Then some did ride, and some did run
No swifter flew the wind;
For each cried, "Woe upon the head
Of him who lags behind."-

But e'er the foremost could come up,
The flames had spread so wide,
The tender babes were burnt alive.
Their mother with them died.

Her lord did wildly rent his hair
And wept in woeful mood :
"Ah, traitors, for this cruel deed
You shall weep tears of blood."-

Full fast false Gorman he pursu'd
With many a bitter tear,
And in his cowardly own heart's blood
Revenged his lady dear.

Child #178
From Ballads Migrant in New England, Flanders
Collected from Lily DeLorme, Cadyville, NY 1943
@battle @murder
filename[ ADAMGRMN
play.exe ADAMGRMN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ADAM IN THE GARDEN PINNING LEAVES

cho: Oh Eve, where's Adam? (3x)
     Adam in the garden pinning leaves.

Well, I know my God is a man of war,
     Adam in the garden pinning leaves.
He fought the battle at the Jericho wall,
     Adam in the garden pinning leaves.

Well, the first time God called, Adam refused to answer,
     Adam in the garden pinning leaves,
Well, the first time God called, Adam refused to answer,
     Adam in the garden pinning leaves,

The next time God called, God hollered louder,
     Adam in the garden pinning leaves,
The next time God called, God hollered louder,
     Adam in the garden pinning leaves.
@religion  @spiritual
filename[ ADAMGRDN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ADIEU TO BON COUNTY

lt's a great separation my friends they have caused me,
By bearing their spite that my favor was won;
lt's a great separation, likewise a vexation,
And they shall be sorry for what they have done.

chorus:
     Eat, drink, and be jolly, and care not for folly,
     And drownd away sorrow in a bottle of wine;
     Pass it to the boys in full-flowing bumpers,
     And play on the fiddle to pass away time!

Adieu to Bon County, I'm bound for to leave you,
And seek my heart's fortune in some foreign land,
Where bottles and glasses is my greatest comfort
And when we do meet we'll jine heart and hand.
Farewell to my friends and my good old neighbors,
Likewise to the girl I'll never see more.
This world it is wide, and I'll spend it in pleasures-
I don't care for no one that don't care for me.

My fortune is small, so freely I own it,
What little I have it is all of my own.
I might have lived longer to enjoy it with pleasure,
lf my poor friends had a' let me alone.

I have money a plenty to bear my expenses,
And when it's all gone I'll chop wood and get more.
When death it comes on me I'll freely go with it,
Pay up my last dues and go with it home.
From the Samuel P. Bayard Collection; collected from Allen Wayte,
  West Virginia.
@farewell @parting @drink
filename[ ADIEUBON
play.exe ADIEUBON
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ADMIRAL AND ENLISTED MEN

The enlisted men ride in a motor launch,
The Captain he rides in a barge,
He don't go a damned sight faster,
But it gives the old bugger a charge.

Singing turalai, urali, urali,
Singing turalai, urali, ay,
Singing turalai, urali, urali,
Singing turalai, urali, ay,

The enlisted men ride in a motor boat,
The admiral he rides in a gig,
He don't go a damned sight faster,
But it makes the old bugger feel big.

The enlisted men eat in the wardroom,
The Captain won't eat with the mob,
It ain't that he eats any better,
He don't want us to know he's a slob.

The enlisted men sleep in their hammocks,
The Captain he sleeps in a bed,
He don't sleep a damned sight better
But he's twenty feet nearer the head.

The sexual life of a camel.
Is not quite what everyone thinks,
One night in an excess of passion,
He tried to make love to the Sphinx.

Now the Sphinx's posterior regions
Are all clogged by the sands of the Nile,
Which accounts for the hump on the camel,
And the Sphinx's inscrutable smile.

In the process of civilization,
From arthropoid ape down to man,
The palm is awarded the Navy,
For buggering whatever it can

Further experimentation
Has incontrovertibly shown,
That comparative safety on shipboard
Is enjoyed by the hedgehog alone.

@sailor @bawdy @navy
filename[ ADMENLIS
play.exe BOTBAY2
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ADMIRAL BENBOW

Come all ye seamen bold, and draw near
And draw near
Come all ye seamen bold, and draw near
It is of an admiral's fame
O brave Benbow was his name
How he fought all on the main
You shall hear, you shall hear.

Brave Benbow he set sail, for to fight
For to fight
Brave Benbow he set sail, for to fight.
Brave Benbow he set sail,
With a fine and pleasant gale
But his captains they turn'd tail
In a fright, in a fright.

Says Kirby unto Wade, "We will run,
We will run."
Says Kirby unto Wade, "We will run.
For I value no disgrace
Or the losing of my place
But the enemy I won't face
Nor his guns, nor his guns."

Then Ruby and Benbow fought the French
Fought the French,
Then Ruby and Benbow fought the French.
They fought them up and down
'Til the blood came trickling down
'Til the blood came trickling down
Where they lay, where they lay.

Brave Benbow lost his legs by chain shot
By chain shot,
Brave Benbow lost his legs by chain shot.
Brave Benbow lost his legs
And all on his stumps he begs
Fight on, my English lads
'Tis our lot, 'tis our lot.

The surgeon dress'd his wounds, cries Benbow
Cries Benbow,
The surgeon dress'd his wounds, cries Benbow.
"Let a cradle now in haste
On the quarterdeck be placed,
That the enemy I may face
'Til I die, 'til I die.

From English Folk Songs, Sharp
@navy @battle @English
filename[ ADBENBOW
play.exe ADBENBOW
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ADVERTISER'S IMAGE
(Kevin Becker)

1. The advertiser's image is running through the softness
   Of the dawning of our days
   Flashing countless billboard signs saying
   Here we are, hey, we're the ones
   To show and make you sense
   Sense what you have never seen or felt before

2. The advertiser's image speaks to us in sleepy thoughts
   And says again and then again
   Here we are, hey, we're the ones
   Who'll drive that word "acceptance" home
   So you can feel your "part"
   And wear a uniform that's neither real nor fake

3. The future is a present from an image that has yet to come
   And now their flash seems clear to me
   They've told us who we "need to be"
   So we stand up tall in their sculptor's mold
   As statues nearly sold
   Adding forever to the sum of their ideas

copyright Kevin Becker
filename[ ADIMAGE
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
                          AE FOND KISS
                         (Robert Burns)

    Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
    Ae farewell, and then forever!
    Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
    Warring sighs and goans I'll wage thee.

    Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
    While the star of hope she leaves him ?
    Me. nae cheerful twinkle lights me,
    Dark despair around benigts me.

    I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy:
    Naething could resist my Nancy!
    But to see her was to love her
    Love but her, and love for ever.

    Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
    Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
    Never met - or never parted -
    We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

    Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
    Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
    Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
    Peace, Enjoyment, Love and Pleasure!

    Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
    Ae farewell, alas, for ever!
    Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
    Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

tune: Rory Dall's Port (337)
@Scots @love @parting
filename[ FONDKISS
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ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE AFRICAN TRADE
(Tom Lewis)

Stamp the capstan 'round, me boys, kick up some flame and dust
For the triangle Southward we're sailin',
Never mind the trade you're in, you've got to make across
And blackbirding's easier than whalin',
Yeah, blackbirding's easier than whalin'

Now we're off the coast of Guinea, the Arab boats come out
They're loaded down with misery for cargo
Black ivory for rifles is the business we're about
In the dark of night we'll outrun the embargo,
In the dark of night we'll outrun the embargo.

CHORUS:
     And the tears from the slaves made the Mersey run black
     That's how our great city was made.
     When you look to the future take time to look back
     And remember the African trade,
     Remember the African trade.

Our destination's Mobile Bay, so count on every sail
And stop your ears; don't listen to the cryin'
It's wet on deck, but hell below, so bless the ragin' gale.
The sooner we get there the fewer dyin',
Yeah, the sooner we get there the fewer dyin'.

CHORUS

There's cotton in our hold for the mills of Blankishire,
And after all, you've only done your duty.
And if your kids are hungry there's another trip next year
If the memories won't let you sleep, just take another beer,
Rollin' home to dear old Liverpool, the nightmare's reappear,
So keep your mind on England, home, and duty,
Just keep your mind on England, home, and duty.

CHORUS
Keep your mind on England, home, and duty;
Slavery makes slaves of us all....

Copyright Tom Lewis
Recorded by Tom Lewis
@slave @sailor
filename[ AFRCNTRD
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AFTER HOURS
(C. McGettigan)

Go in thru the side door, no need to worry now the coast is clear
We can make a little music for the night is ours,
       it will sound a lot sweeter, after hours

After hours, really let your hair down
After hours when the lights are low
Forget about your troubles and mornin blues
Put up another round (2x)

Paddy sings a song like a good man,
  sing it in your own way like only you can
You can give it all you feeling for the floor is yours
  it will sound a lot sweeter, after hours

Chorus, then slow tune

Out in the clear light of mornin',
  the street seems so strange in the early mornin
Never hears the birds sing like this before
  and they sound a lot sweeter, after hours

Chorus

Copyright Swing Music
Recorded by The Battlefield Band
@music
filename[ AFTERHOU
ED
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AFTER THE BALL
(Charles K. Harris)

A little maiden climbed an old man's knee
Begged for a story, "Do, uncle, please!"
Why are you single? Why live alone?
Have you no babies? Have you no home?"
"I had a sweetheart, years, years ago
Where she is now, pet, you will soon know.
List to the story, I'll tell it all
I believ'd her faithless, after the ball."

cho: After the ball is over,
     After the break of morn,
     After the dancers' leaving
     After the stars are gone;
     Many a heart is aching
     If you could read them all
     Many the hopes that have vanished
     After the ball.

Bright lights were flashing in the grand ballroom
Softly the music playing sweet tunes;
There came my sweetheart, my love, my own,
"I wish some water, leave me alone."
When I returned, dear, there stood a man
Kissing my sweetheart, as lovers can.
Down fell the glass, pet, broken, that's all
Just as my heart was, after the ball.

Long years have passed, child, I've never wed
True to my lost love, though she is dead.
She tried to tell me, tried to explain
I would not listen, pleadings were vain.
One day a letter came from that man,
He was her brother, the letter ran;
That's why I'm lonely, no home at all
I broke her heart, pet, after the ball.

@love @nostalgia @infidelity
filename[ AFTRBALL
play.exe AFTRBALL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AFTER THE STRIKE
(Joseph A. Hemer)
     Air-"After the Ball"

Once a pretty maiden climbed an old man's knee
  Asked for a story-"Papa tell me,
Why are you lonely, why are you sad,
  Why do your shopmates call you a scab?"
I had friends, pet, long, long ye-ars ago,
  How I lost them you soon shall know;
I'll tell it all, pet, tell all my shame;
  I was a scab, pet, I was to blame."

cho: After the strike is over,
     After the men have won,
     After the shops have opened,
     After the notice is down;
     Many the heart is aching,
     Though the hope seems bright
     That many a scab will vanish
     After the strike.

Brave men were fighting, standing side by side,
  Fighting for justice, fighting with pride,
I then was with them---with them heart and soul,
  But when the test came, I left them in the cold,
I thought it best, pet, best to turn a scab;
  Best to return, pet, to the job I had,
That's why I'm lonely, that's why I'm sad,
  That's why my shopmates call me a scab.

cho:

Many years have passed, pet, since I won that name,
  And in song and story they have told my shame,
I have tried to tell them, tried to explain,
  But they will not listen, pleading is in vain;
Everywhere I wander, everywhere I roam,
  The story of my shame is sure to find my home,
I'd give my life, pet, I'd give my all,
  If I had not turned traitor, or scabbed at all.

cho:

From American Labor Songs of the Nineteenth Century, Foner
@parody @union @strike
Note: published in the United Mine Workers' Journal, May 24, 1894
filename[ AFTRSTRK
play.exe AFTRBALL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AGE OF AQUARIUS

When the moon is in the seventh house,
And Jupiter aligns with Mars,
Then peace will guide the planets,
And love will steer the stars.

  This is the dawning of the age of Aquarius,
  The age of Aquarius, Aquarius, Aquarius.

Harmony and understanding,
Sympathy and trust abounding.
No more falsehoods or derisions,
Golden living dreams and visions,
Mystic crystal revelations,
And the mind's true liberation,
Aquarius, Aquarius.

filename[ AQUARAGE
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE AGED PILOT MAN
(Mark Twain)

On the Erie Canal, it was, all on a summer's day,
I sailed forth with my parents, far away to Albany.
From out the clouds at noon that day, there came a dreadful storm,
That piled the billows high about, and filled us with alarm.

A man came rushing from a house, saying, "Snub up your boat, I pray,
Snub up your boat, snub up, alas, Snub up while yet you may."
Our captain cast one glance astern, then forward glanced he,
And said, "My wife and little ones, I never more shall see."

Said Dollinger the pilot man, in noble words, but few --
"Fear not, but lean on Dollinger, and he will fetch you through."
The boat drove on, the frightened mules, tore through the rain and
 wind,
And bravely still, in danger's post, the whip-boy strode behind.

"Come 'board, come 'board,"  the captain cried, "Nor tempt so wild a
 storm.
But still the raging mules advanced, and still the boy strode on.
Then said the captain to us all, "Alas, 'tis plain to me,
The greater danger is not there, but here upon the sea."

So let us strive, while life remains, to save all souls on board,
And then if die at last we must, Let....I cannot speak the word."
Said Dollinger the pilot man, tow'ring above the crew,
Fear not, but trust in Dollinger, and he will fetch you through."

"Low bridge! Low bridge!" all heads went down, the laboring bark sped
 on,
A mill we passed, we passed a church, hamlets, and fields of corn;
And all the world came out to see, and chased along the shore,
Crying, "Alas the gallant ship and crew, can nothing help them more?"

"Ho! lighten ship! Ho! man the pump!  Ho! hostler, heave the lead!
And count ye all, both great and small, as numbered with dead!
For mariner for forty year, on Erie, boy and man,
I never yet saw such a storm, or one 't with it began!"

So overboard a keg of nails, and anvils three we threw,
Likewise four bales of gunny-sacks, two hundred pounds of glue,
Two sacks of corn, four ditto wheat, a box of books, a cow,
A violin, Lord Byron's works, a rip-saw and a sow.

A quarter three, 'tis shoaling fast, three feet large, three feet,
Three feet scant, I cried in fright, Oh is there no retreat?
Said Dollinger, the pilot man, As on the vessel flew,
"Fear not, but trust in Dollinger, and he will fetch you through.

A panic struck the bravest hearts, the boldest cheek turned pale
For plain to all, this shoaling said, a leak had burst the ditch's
 bed.
"Sever the tow-line. Cripple the mules. Too late, there comes a shock!
Another length, and the fated craft would have swum to the saving
lock.

Then gathered together the shipwrecked crew and took one last embrace
While sorrowful tears from despairing eyes ran down each hopeless
 face,
But of all the children of misery there on that poor sinking frame,
But one spake words of hope and faith, and I worshipped as they came.

Said Dollinger, the pilot man, O brave heart, strong and true,
"Fear not, but trust in Dollinger, for be will fetch you through!"
Lo! scarce the words had passed his lips, the dauntless prophet say'th
When every soul about him seeth a wonder crown his faith.

For straight a farmer brought a plank, mysteriously inspired,
And laying it unto the ship, in silent awe retired,
And every sufferer stood amazed,  the pilot man before,
A moment stood.  Then wondering turned and speechless walked ashore.

From Roughing It, Twain
Twain wrote,"probably suggested by the old song called, "The Raging
Canal"
@parody @canal @wreck @storm
filename[ AGEDPILT
play.exe RAGCANAL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIKEN DRUM

There was a man lived in the moon
  lived in the moon, lived in the moon
There was a man lived in the moon
  and his name was Aiken Drum

  And he played upon a ladle, a ladle, a ladle
  He played upon a ladle and his name was Aiken Drum

And his head was made of cream cheese...
And his name was Aiken Drum

And his coat was made of good roast beef....

And his breeches were made of haggis bags....

(continue to ad lib)

@food @kids
recorded by David Sear
filename[ AIKDRUM
play.exe AIKDRUM
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIKEN DRUM (Willie Wood)

There cam a man to our town, to our town, to our town,
There cam a man to our town, and his name was Willy Wood.

And he played upon a razor, a razor, a razor,
And he played upon a razor, and his name was Willy Wood.

His hat was made o' the guid roast-beef, the guid roast-beef,
His hat was made o' the guid roast-beef, and his name was Willy Wood.

His coat was made o' the haggis bag, the haggis bag, the haggis bag,
His coat was made o' the haggis bag, and his name was Willy Wood.

His buttons were made o' the baubee baps, the baubee baps, the baubee baps,
His buttons were made o' the baubee baps, and his name was Willy Wood.

But another man cam to the town, cam to the town, cam to the town,
Another man cam to the town, and they ca'd him Aiken Drum.

And he played upon a ladle, a ladle, a ladle,
And he played upon a ladle, and they ca'd him Aiken Drum.

And he ate up a' the guid roast-beef, the guid roast-beef, the guid roast-beef,
And he ate up a' the guid roast-beef, and his name was Aiken Drum.

And he ate up a' the haggis bag, &c.

And he ate up a' the baubee baps, &c.
________________________________________________________

Chambers PRS (1870), 41, with music. SNR 98 (no. 120; two
stanzas only, with music).  Cf. Halliwell NRE (1842), p.
33 (li), no provenance given:

There was a man in our toone, in our toone, in our toone,
There was a man in our toone, and his name was Billy Pod;
And he played upon an old razor, an old razor, an old razor,
And he played upon an old razor, with my fiddle fiddle fe fum fo.

And his hat it was made of the good roast beef, the good roast beef, &c.
And his hat it was made of the good roast beef,
  and his name was Billy Pod;
And he played upon an old razor, &c. &c.

And his coat it was made of the good fat tripe, the good
     fat tripe, the good fat tripe,
And his coat it was made of the good fat tripe, and his
     name was Billy Pod;
And he played upon an old razor, &c.

And his breeks they were made of the bawbie baps, the
     bawbie baps, &c.
And his breeks they were made of the bawbie baps, and
     his name was Billy Pod;
And he played upon an old razor, &c.

And there was a man in tither toone, in tither toone, in tither toone,
And there was a man in tither toone, and his name was Edrin Drum;
And he played upon an old laadle, an old laadle, an old laadle,
And he played upon an old laadle, with my fiddle, fiddle fe fum fo.

And he eat up all the good roast beef, the good roast beef, &c. &c.

And he eat up all the good fat tripe, the good fat tripe, &c. &c.

And he eat up all the bawbie baps, &c. and his name was Edrin Drum.

The tune is given in G.F. Graham, Songs of Scotland (Glasgow,
J. Muir Wood, n.d. [1848-9]), III.26-7, with specially-
written words ("When lang sinsyne I married", etc.).  G.F.G.
notes that the air was sung in his boyhood "to ludicrous but
unmeaning stanzas, beginning--

          There lived a man in our town,
            In our town, in our town,
          There lived a man in our town,
            And his name was Aiken drum.

We were told that this man wore a strange coat, with buttons
of `bawbee-baps', and that `he played upon a razor.'"  This
takes it back to the turn of the century, he being born in
1789.

Hogg Jacobite Relics II (1821), 22,  gives a political song
of circa 1715 [?] with the chorus "Aikendrum, Aikendrum",
though the tune there = My Luve's in Germanie.  He quotes a
stanza of another song, evidently a version of our text:

          There was a man cam frae the moon,
          Cam frae the moon, cam frae the moon.
          There was a man cam frae the moon,
          An' they ca'ed him Aikendrum.

William Nicholson's "The Brownie of Blednock" bears the
mysterious name (originally in The Dumfries Magazine, Oct.
1825), and in another poem Aikendrum turns out to be a lover
in disguise, namely David Vedder's "Aikendrum", in e.g.
Whitelaw BSS ([1844], 1875), 418, beginning "A warlock cam'
to our town".  It first appeared anonymously in The Edinburgh
Literary Gazette.
Graham prints (in Appendix, 167), as to the air, "The Piper
o' Dundee", which usually goes to its "own" tune, a version
of the reel The Drummer.  Cf. ODNR 52 (No.7), text from Walter
Crane's Baby's Bouquet, 1879, which begins like Hogg's
fragment; the second man is called Willy Wood.  Chambers may
have been mistaken here.  Moffat also has "There cam' a man...
Aiken Drum" [8 lines only] (50 TSNR, 1933, 19), with the music.

@kids @food
filename[ AIKDRUM3
play.exe AIKDRUM
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIKENDRUM

Ken ye how a Whig can fight, Aikendrum, Aikendrum
Ken ye how a Whig can fight, Aikendrum
He can fight the hero bright, with his heels and armour tight
And the wind of heavenly night, Aikendrum, Aikendrum
Is not Rowley in the right, Aikendrum!

Did ye hear of Sunderland, Aikendrum (etc as above)
That man of high command, who has sworn to clear the land
He has vanished from our strand (etc as above)
Or the eel has ta'en the sand, Aikendrum.

Donald's running round and round (etc)
But the Chief cannot be found, and the Dutchmen they are drowned
And King Jaime he is crowned (etc)
But the dogs will get a stound, Aikendrum

We have heard of Whigs galore (etc)
But we've sought the country o'er, with cannon and claymore,
And still they are before (etc)
We may seek forevermore, Aikendrum!

Ken ye how to gain a Whig (etc)
Look Jolly, blythe and big, take his ain blest side and prig,
And the poor, worm-eaten Whig (etc)
For opposition's sake you will win!

From "Jacobite Relics" James Hogg, 1874
Tune: "My Name it is Sam Hall," "Ye Jacobites By Name," "My Name is
  William Kidd," "What Wondrous Love is This?" &c.)

@Jacobite @Scots
filename[ AIKNDRUM
play.exe CAPNKIDD
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIN' NO MO' CANE ON DE BRAZIS

It ain' no mo' cane on de Brazis
Oh...
Done groun' it all in molazzis,
Oh...

Better git yo' overcoat ready,
Well, it's comin' up a norther.

Well, de captain standin' an' lookin' an' cryin',
Well, it's gittin' so col',my row's behin'.

Cap'n doncha do me like you did po' Shine,
Drive dat bully till he went stone-blin'.

Cap'n, cap'n, you mus'be blin',
Keep on holl'in' an' I'm almos' flyin'.

One o' dese mornin's an' it won' be long,
You gonna call me an'I'll be gone.

Ninety-nine years so jumpin' long'
To be here rollin' an' cain' go home.

Ef I had a sentence like ninety-nine years
All de dogs on de Brazis won' keep me here.

I b'lieve I'll go to de Brazis line,
Ef I leave you here' gonna think I's flyin'.

B'lieve I'll do like ol' Riley,
Ol' Riley walked de Brazis.

Well, de dog-sergeant got worried an' couldn' go,
Ol' Rattler went to howlin' 'cause de tracks too ol'.

Oughta come on de river in 1904,
You could fin' a dead man on every turn row.
Oughta come on de river in 1910,
Dey was drivin' de women jes' like de men.

Wake up, dead man, an' help me drive my row,
Wake up, dead man, an' help me drive my row.

Some in de buildin' an' some on de farm,
Some in de graveyard, some goin' home.

I looked at my Ol' Hannah' an'she's turnin'red,
I looked at my podner an' he's almos'dead.

Wake up, lifetime, hold up yo' head,
Well, you may get a pardon an' you may drop dead.

Well, I wonder what's de matter, somepin' mus' be wrong
We're stil I here rollin,  Shorty George done gone.

Go down, Ol' Hannah, doncha rise no mo',
Ef you rise any mo' bring judgment day.
From American Ballads and Folk Songs, Lomax
collected from Mexico, Lightnin' and Dave Tippin at Central State
     Farm, near Houston
@chaingang @work @jail
filename[ CANEBRAZ
play.exe CANEBRAZ
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIN'T GONNA GRIEVE MY LORD NO MORE

Oh, the Deacon went down, (2x)
To the cellar to pray, (2x)
He found a jug, (2x)
And he stayed all day. (2x)
Oh, the Deacon went down to the cellar to pray,
He found a jug and he stayed all day,
Ain't gonna grieve my Lord no more.

cho: I ain't a-gonna grieve my Lord no more.
     I ain't a-gonna grieve my lord no more.
     Ain't a-gonna grieve my Lord no more.

You can't get to Heaven on roller skates,
You'll roll right by them pearly gates.

You can't get to Heaven on a rocking chair,
'Cause the Lord don't want no lazybones there.
You can't get to Heaven in a limousine,
'Cause the Lord don't sell no gasoline.

If you get to Heaven before I do,
Just drill a hole and pull me through.

If I get to Heaven before you do,
I'll plug that hole with shavings and glue.

You can't get to Heaven with powder and paint,
It makes you look like what you ain't.

You can't chew tobaccy on that golden shore,
'Cause the Lord don't have no cuspidor.

"That's all there is, there ain't no more,"
Saint Peter said as he closed the door.

There's one thing more I forgot to tell,
If you don't go to Heaven, you'll go to Hell.
I'll put my grief up on the shelf,
If you want some more, make 'em up yourself.

@camp @religion
filename[ GRIEVLD
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIN'T IT A SHAME

Ain't it a shame to beat your wife on a Sunday ?
Ain't it a shame?
Ain't it a shame to beat your wife on a Sunday ?
Ain't it a shame ?
  Ain't it a shame to beat your wife on a Sunday-
  When you got Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
  Oh, Thursday, Friday, Saturday
Ain't it a shame ?

Ain't it a shame to go fishin' on Sunday,

Ain't it a shame to kiss the girls on Sunday,

Ain't it a shame to take a drink on Sunday, etc.

Recorded by the New Lost City Ramblers
filename[ AINTSHAM
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIN'T IT GREAT TO BE CRAZY

Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy?
Boom, boom, ain't it great to be crazy.
Happy and gay, all the day,
Boom, Boom, ain't it great to be crazy!

A horse and a flea and three blind mice
Sat on a tombstone shooting dice
The horse he slipped and fell on the flea,
Oops! said the flea, there's a horse on me!

Chorus

There was an old doctor and his name was Peck.
Fell down the well and broke his neck
Served him right, he was doing wrong.
Should have tended to the sick, and let the well alone.

Chorus

Way down south where bananas grow,
A flea stepped on an elephant's toe.
The elephant cried, with tears in his eyes,
Why don't you pick on someone your size?

Chorus

Way up north where there's ice and snow
There lived a penguin and his name was Joe,
He got so tired of black and white,
He wore pink slacks to the dance last night.

Chorus

@kids @camp @animal
filename[ GRTCRAZY
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIN'T LEAVIN' YOUR LOVE
(Townes Van Zandt)

Well, Mr. Gator, he's a-glidin' down the bayou;
Mr. Buzzard, he's a-slidin' through the air
Mr. Turnip, he's a-hittin' the highway.
I ain't goin' nowhere

CHORUS:
I ain't leavin' your love; I ain't leavin' your love.
Not for heaven above, Babe, I ain't leavin' your love.

Well the poor man got him an airplane;
Tryin' to cruise across a traffic jam
Well, the rich man got him a Chevrolet;
I'm stayin' right where I am.

CHORUS

Well, now, Hannibal, he climbed the mountains,
And Cleopatra danced down the Nile
Lindberg made all the way to gay Paris;
I'm stayin' right here awhile.

CHORUS (twice)
copyright Townes Van Zandt
@travel
filename[ AINTLEAV
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIR CORPS LAMENT

Mine eyes have seen the days of men who ruled the fighting sky
With hearts that laughed at death and lived for nothing but to fly
But now those hearts are grounded and those days are long gone by
The force is shot to hell!

cho: Glory . . . flying regulations
     Have them read at every station
     Crucify the man who breaks one
     The force is shot to hell!

My bones have felt their pounding throb. a hundred thousand strong
A mighty airborne legion sent to right the deadly wrong
But now it's only memory, it only lives in song
The force ls shot to hell!

I have seen them in their T-bolts when their eyes were dancing flame
I've seen their screaming power dives that blasted Goering's name
But now they fly like sissies and they hang their heads in shame
Their spirit's shot to hell!

They flew B-26's through a living hell of flak
And bloody, dying pilots gave their lives to bring them back
But now they all play ping pong in the operations shack
Their technique's gone to hell!

Yes, the lordly Flying Fortress and the Liberator too
Once wrote the doom of Germany with contrails in the blue
But now the skies are empty and our planes are wet with dew
And we can't fly for hell!

One day l buzzed an airfield with another happy chap
We flew a hot formation with his wingtip in my lap
But there's a new directive and we'll have no more of THAT!
Or you both will burn in Hell!

Hap Arnold built a fighting team that sang a fighting song
About the wild blue yonder in the days when men were strong
But now we're closely supervised for fear we may do wrong
The force is shot to hell!

final cho: Glory! No more regulations!
           Rip them down at every station!
           Ground the guy that tries to make one!
           And LET US FLY LIKE HELL!

From There I Was...Flat On My Back, Bob Stevens
@army @airplane @bitching @rules
tune: Battle Hymn of the Republic
filename[ AIRREGS
play.exe JOHNBRWN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AIR FORCE 801

Listen to the rumble, and hear old Merlin roar
l'm flying over Moji, like I never flew before
Hear the mighty rush of the slipstream, and hear old Merlin moan,
I'II wait a bit and say a prayer and hope it gets me home.

Itazuke tower, this is Air Force 801
l'm turning on the downwind leg, my prop has overrun
My coolant's overheated, the gauge says 1-2-1
You'd better call the crash crew, and get them on the run.

Air Force 801, this is Itazuke tower
I cannot call the crash crew, this is their coffee hour
You're not cleared in the pattern, that is plain to see
So take it on around again, we have some VIP.

Itazuke tower, this is Air Force 801
l'm turning on the downwind leg, I see your biscuit gun
My engine's runnin' ragged, and the coolant's gonna blow
I'm gonna prang a Mustang, so look out down below.

Itazuke tower, this is Air Force 801
l'm turning on the final, and running on one lung
l'm gonna land this Mustang, no matter what you say
l've gotta get my charts fixed up before that Judgment Day,

Air Force 801, this is Judgment Day
You're in Pilot's Heaven, and you are here to stay
You just bought a Mustang, and you bought it well
The famous Air Force 801 was sent straight down to Hell.

From There I was flat on my back, Stevens
Tune: Wabash Cannonball
@America  @airplane @Korea @war @army
filename[ AF801
play.exe WABASHCB
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALABAMA'S CREW
(Andrea Aldridge)

When the Alabama's crew was laid
Roll Alabama Roll
They were laid on the day that they got paid
Oh roll, Alabama Roll

They were laid in the town of Maidenhead
They were laid in the house of Madame Laird

At the Bull and Boar they downed their swill
At the Grey Mare they got drunker still

Down the cobbled streets they staggered forth
To Madame Laird's to prove their worth

Her girls lay waiting night and day
To collect their share of prize money
There many a sailor saw his doom
When he entered Miss Eliza's room

She challanged him to a roll and lay
The pride of the floored and the soused navy

It was then they found to their dismay
One shot too many took the urge away

At the three buckle limit in '64
The Alabama rose no more.

copyright Andrea Aldridge
@bawdy @parody @sailor
filename[ ALABCREW
play.exe ROLLALAB
play.exe ROLLALB2
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALAN BANE

They're taking me to the gallows mother,
They're goin'to hang me high,
They're goin'to gather around me there
And watch me till I die.
All earthly joys are vanished now
And gone each earthly hope;
They'll draw a cap across mine eyes,
Around my neck a rope.

The crazy mob will shout and groan,
The priest will read a prayer,
The drop will fall beneath my feet
And leave me in the air.
They think I murdered Alan Bane,
For so the judge has said;
They'll hang me to the gallows, Ma.
And hang me 'til I'm dead.
The grass that grows in yonder field,
The lambs that skip and play,
The brook that 'yond the orchard runs
And laughs upon the way.
The flowers that in the garden bloom,
The birds that sing and fly
Are pure and clean from human blood,
And Mother, so am I.

My father's grave on yonder hill,
His name without a stain,
I swear no malice e'er I had
Nor murdered Alan Bane.
But me the jury guilty found,
For so the judge has said;
They'll hang me to the gallows, Ma,
And hang me 'til I'm dead.

The air is fresh and bracing, Ma,
The sun shines bright and high,
This is a pleasant day to live,
A gloomy one to die.
This is a bright, a glorious day,
The joys of earth to grasp;
It is a sad, a wretched one
To struggle, choke, and gasp.

Let them my lofty spirit damp,
Or cow me if they can,
They've sent me like a rogue to die,
I'll meet it like a man.
I never murdered Alan Bane,
But so the judge has said;
They'll hang me to the gallows, Ma,
And hang me 'til I'm dead.

Poor little sister Belle will weep
And kiss me as I lie,
But kiss her twice and thrice for me
And tell her not to cry.
Tell her to weave a garland gay
And crown me as of yore
And plant a lily on my grave
And think of me no more.

And tell the maid whose love I sought,
That I am faithful yet,
But I'm to lie in a felon's grave
And she had best forget.
My memory is forever stained,
For so the judge has said;
They'll hang me to the gallows, Ma,
And hang me'til I'm dead.

Lay me not down by father's side,
For once I mind, he said
No child that stained his spotless name
Could share his mortal bed.
Old friends will look beyond his grave
To my dishonored one
And hide the virtues of the sire
Behind the recreant son.

And I can fancy that if there,
My fettered limbs should lay,
His frowning skull and crumbling bones
Would shriek, drive me away.
I swear to God I'm innocent
And never blood have shed;
They'll hang me to the gallows, Ma,
And hang me 'til I'm dead.

You'll lay me in my coffin, Ma,
As you have seen me rest,
One of my arms beneath my head,
The other on my breast.
And place my Bible on my heart,
Nay, Mother, do not weep
But kiss me as in happier days
You kissed me when asleep.
As for the rest, for rite or form
But little do I lack,
But cover up that cursed stain,
The black mark on my neck,
And pray to God for mercy great
On my devoted head.
They'll hang me to the gallows, Ma,
And hang me 'til I'm dead.

But hark! I hear a murmur now
Among the jostling crowd,
A cry! A shout! A roar! It grows
And echoes long and loud.
Comes dashing on a foaming steed,
A man with tightened rein,
He sits erect, he waves his hand,
Good God! It's Alan Bane!

The lost is found, the dead's alive,
My safety is achieved.
He waves his hand again and shouts:
"The prisoner is reprieved!"
Now Mother praise the God you love
And raise your drooping head,
The murd'rous gallows, black and grim
Is cheated of its dead.

From Folk Songs and Singing Games of the Illinois Ozarks, McIntosh
Collected from Andrew Jackson Reynolds, Rudiment, IL, 1935
Note: Based on a true story ca 1866
@outlaw @murder @reprieve
filename[ ALANBANE
play.exe ALANBANE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ALBATROSS

It is an ancient mariner, who stoppeth one of three
He killed the blessed Albatross when he was out to sea
And the guilt it hangs around his neck, the same as you and me
Poor old sailor who shot the gentle bird

I don't know why he shot him, the silly gooney duck
But if you shoot an Albatross, you sure are out of luck
For forever ever after it will hang around your neck
Poor old sailor who shot the gentle bird

I also wear the Albatross, the bird of guilt I bear
I shafted my best buddy, in a moment of despair
And the guilt is always with me, in my dreams and everywhere
Poor old sailor who shot the gentle bird

But those that kill their thousands with Napalm in the street
They live a good respected life and sleep an easy sleep
They'd never shoot an Albatross, it isn't good to eat
Poor old sailor who shot the gentle bird

So never kill the gooney bird, or knife your loving kin
And never burn a single soul, make sure it's more than ten
And never do a stick up, but gouge the world of men
And leave bad dreams to sailors who kill the gentle bird


@sailor @political
recorded by John and Tony
filename[ ALBATRSS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALBERT AND THE LION
(Marriot Edgar)

There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool
That's noted for fresh air and fun
And Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.
  A fine little lad were young Albert,
  All dressed in his best, quite a swell.
  He'd a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle;
  The finest that Woolworth's could sell.
They didn't think much to the ocean,
The waves they were piddlin' and small.
There were no wrecks and nobody drownded,
'Fact, nothin' to laugh at at all!
  So, seeking for further amusement,
  They paid, and went into the zoo,
  Where they'd lions and tigers and camels
  And cold ale and sandwiches, too.
There were one great big lion called Wallace
Whose nose was all covered with scars;
He lay in a som-no-lent posture
With the side of 'is face on the bars.
  Now Albert 'ad 'eard about lions-
  'Ow they was ferocious and wild;
  To see lion lyin' so peaceful
  Just didn't seem right to the child.
So straightway the brave little feller,
Not showin' a morsel of fear,
Took 'is stick with the 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And stuck it in Wallace's ear.
  You could see that the lion din't like it,
  For givin' a kind of a roll,
  'E pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im
  And swallered the little lad -  'ole!
Now Mother 'ad seen this occurrence,
And not knowin' what to do next,
She 'ollered "Yon lion's et Albert!"
An' Father said "Ee, I am vexed."
  They complained to an animal keeper
  Who said "My, wot a nasty mis'ap;
  Are you sure it's your boy 'e's eaten?"
  Pa said, "Am I sure? There's 'is cap!"
The manager 'ad to be sent for;
'E came and 'e said "Wot's to-do?"
Ma said "Yon lion's et Albert,
And 'im in 'is Sunday clothes, too!"
  Father said "Right's right, young feller-
  I think it's a shame and a sin
  To 'ave our son et by a lion
  And after we paid to come in."
The manager wanted no trouble;
He took out his purse right away,
Sayin' "'Ow much to settle the matter?"
Pa said "Wot do you usually pay?"
  But Mother 'ad turned a bit awkward
  When she saw where 'er Albert 'ad gone.
  She said "No, someone's got to be summonsed!"
  So that was decided upon.
And off they all went to p'lice station
In front of a Magistrate chap;
They told what 'ad 'appened to Albert
And proved it by showing 'is cap.
  The Magistrate gave 'is opinion
  That no one was really to blame,
  And 'e said that 'e 'oped the Ramsbottoms
  Would 'ave further sons to their name.
At that Mother got proper blazin':
"And thank you, sir, kindly," said she-
"Wot, spend all our lives raisin' children
To feed ruddy lions? Not me!"

Recorded by Stanley Halloway
@recitation @animal @kids
filename[ ALBLION
RP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALBERT THE ALLIGATOR

Did you ever slip down a water pipe
Right down to the bottom of the water system
There you'll find a little alligator
Who goes by the name of Albert, if you do, he's mine
I lost him

I lost him down the water pipe
Right down to the bottom of the water system
He was gettin' kind of big for his britches
But now I'm feeling kind of lonely and blue 'cause he's gone
I miss him

@kids @animal @round
filename[ ALBRCROC
MC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALBERT'S RETURN
(Marriot Edgar)

You've `eard `ow young Albert Ramsbottom
At the zoo up at Blackpool one year
With a stick with an `orse's `ead `andle
Gave a lion a poke in the ear?
  The name of the lion was Wallace,
  The poke in the ear made `im wild
  And before you could say "Bob's yer uncle"
   E'd upped and `e'd swallowed the child.
`E were sorry the moment `e done it;
With children `e'd always been chums,
And besides, `e'd no teeth in his muzzle,
And `e couldn't chew Albert on't gums.
  `E could feel the lad movin' inside `im
  As `e lay on `is bed of dried ferns;
  And it might `ave been little lad's birthday-
   E wished `im such `appy returns.
But Albert kept kickin' and fightin'-
And Wallace got up, feelin' bad.
Decided 'twere time that `e started
To stage a comeback for the lad.
  Then puttin' `ead down in one corner,
  On `is front paws `e started to walk;
  And `e coughed, and `e sneezed, and `e gargled
  `Till Albert shot out - like a cork!
Now Wallace felt better directly
And `is figure once more became lean.
But the only difference with Albert
Was, `is face and `is `ands were quite clean.
  Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom
  `Ad gone back to their tea, feelin' blue.
  Ma said, "I feel down in the mouth, like."
  Pa said, "Aye, I bet Albert does, too."
Said Mother, "It just goes to show yer
That the future is never revealed;
If I'd thowt we was goin' to lose `im,
I'd `ave not `ad `is boots soled and `eeled."
  "Let's look on the bright side," said Father,
  "Wot can't be `elped must be endured;
  Each cloud `as a silvery lining,
  And we did `ave young Albert insured."
A knock on the door came that moment
As Father these kind words did speak.
`Twas the man from Prudential - `e'd come for
Their tuppence per person per week.
  When Father saw `oo `ad been knockin',
  `E laughed, and `e kept laughin` so -
  The man said "`Ere, wot's there to laugh at?"
  Pa said "You'll laugh and all when you know!"
"Excuse `im for laughing," said Mother,
"But really, things `appen so strange -
Our Albert's been et by a lion;
You've got to pay us for a change!"
  Said the young man from the Prudential:
  "Now, come, come, let's understand this-
  You don't mean to say that you've lost `im?"
  Pa said "Oh, no, we know where `e is!"
When the young man `ad `eard all the details,
A purse from `is pocket he drew
And `e paid them with interest and bonus
The sum of nine pounds, four and two.
  Pa `ad scarce got `is `and on the money
  When a face at the window they see-
  And Mother cried "Eee, look, it's Albert!"
  And Father said "Aye, it would be."
Albert came in all excited,
And started `is story to give;
And Pa said "I'll never trust lions
Again, not as long as I live."
  The young man from the Prudential
  To pick up the money began
  But Father said "`ere, wait a moment,
  Don't be in a `urry, young man."
Then giving young Albert a shilling,
`E said "`Ere, pop off back to the zoo;
Get your stick with the `orse's `ead `andle-
Go and see wot the tigers can do!"
@recitation @animal @kids
filename[ ALBLION2
RP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALBERT'S REUNION
(Stanley Holloway) (or, possibly Marriot Edgar)

You've 'eard of young Albert Ramsbottom,
And Mrs. Ramsbottom, and Dad
And the trouble the poor lion went through
Trying to stomach the lad.
  Well, after the lion disgorged him
  Quite many a day 'ad gone by
  But the lion just sat there and brooded
  With a far away look in his eye.
The keepers could do nowt wi' lion
He seemed to be suffering pain.
He seemed to be fretting for something
And the curl all went out of his mane.
  It looked at its food and ignored it
  Just gazed far away into space.
  When keepers tried forcible feeding
  They got it all back in their face!
And at Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom's
The same kind of thing had begun
And though they tried all sorts of measures
They couldn't rouse Albert, their son.
  Now Mr. Ramsbottom got fed up
  At trying to please him in vain.
  And said, " If you don't start to buck up
  I'll take you to lion again!"
Now instead of the lad getting frightened
And starting to quake at the knees,
He seemed to be highly delighted
And shouted," Oh Dad! If you Please!"
  His father thought he had gone potty.
  His mother went nearly insane.
  But Albert stood firm, and just bellowed,
  "I want to see lion again!"
So Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom
Decided the best thing to do
Was to give way to Albert, and take him
Straight-a-way back to the Zoo.
  The moment the lion saw Albert
  For the first time for weeks it had stirred
  It moved the left side of its whiskers
  Then lay on its back and just purred.
And before anybody could stop him
Young Albert were stroking his paws.
And whilst the crowd screamed for the keepers
The little lad opened its jaws.
  The crowd were completely dumfounded
  His mother was out, to the wide,
  But they knew, by the bumps and the bulges
  That Albert was once more inside.
Then all of sudden, the lion
Stood up and let out a roar
And Albert, all smiling and happy,
Came out, with a thud, on the floor.
  The crowd, by this time, were all cheering
  And Albert stood there looking grand
  With the stick with the horses-head handle
  Clutched in his chubby young hand.
The lion grew so fond of Albert,
It couldn't be parted from lad.
And so zoological keepers
Sent round a note to his Dad:
  We regret to say lion is worried
  And pining for your little man
  So sending you lion tomorrow
  Arriving in plain covered van.
And if you should go 'round any evening
When Albert has gone off to rest
There's the lion, all tucked up beside him
Asleep, with 'is 'ead on his chest.

@animal @kids @recitation
filename[ ALBERTRE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALBERTA

Alberta, let your hair hang low.
Alberta, let your hair hang low,
I'll give you more gold than your apron can hold
If you'll only let your hair hang low.

Alberta, what's on your mind?
Alberta, what's on your mind?
You keep me worried, you keep me bothered all the time
Alberta, what's on your mind?

Alberta, don' you treat me unkind
Alberta, don' you treat me unkind
My heart feel so sad, 'cause I want you so bad.
Alberta, don' you treat me unkind.

Alberta, let your hair hang low
                               etc.
@blues @love
filename[ ALBRTA
EL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALBERTINA (SKONNERT ALBERTINA)

A schooner was built on the Baltic
Albertina, that was the schooner's name.
     Pump her dry!
Albertina says the story, Albertina's all for glory
Albertina, that was the schooner's name.
     Pump her dry!

cho: Albertina says the story, Albertina's all for glory
     Albertina, that was the schooner's name.

And the schooner is painted already,
She is painted in red and violet-
     Pump her dry!
She is painted, says the story, she is painted all for glory,
She is painted in red and violet.
     Pump her dry!

And the schooner is rigged out already,
She is rigged out with tackles and with ropes,
     Pump her dry!
She is rigged out, says the story, she is rigged out all for glory,
She is rigged out with tackles and with ropes.
     Pump her dry!

And the schooner is charted already,
She is charted from Hamburg, homeward bound,
     Pump her dry!
She is chartered, says the story, she is chartered all for glory,
She is chartered from Hamburg, homeward bound.
     Pump her dry!

And the schooner is loaded already,
She is loaded with beer and with wine,
     Pump her dry!
She is loaded, says the story, she is loaded all for glory,
She is loaded with beer and with wine.
     Pump her dry!
And the schooner is sailing already,
She is sailing away from sight of land,
     Pump her dry!
She is sailing, says the story, she is sailing all for glory,
She is sailing away from sight of land.
     Pump her dry!

And the schooner is stranded already,
She is stranded between the surf and reef,
     Pump her dry!
She is stranded, says the story, she is stranded all for glory,
She is stranded between the surf and reef.
     Pump her dry!

And her headstone is written already,
It is written in Latin and in gold,
     Pump her dry!
It is written, says the story, it is written all for glory,
It is written in Latin and in gold.
     Pump her dry!
On the beach there is a maiden weeping,
She is weeping for her lover on the beach,
     Pump her dry!
She is weeping, says the story, she is weeping all for glory,
She is weeping for her lover on the beach.
     Pump her dry!

From Shanties from the Seven Seas, Hugill
Note: Tune is German, Words Norwegian (translated by J. Glyn
     Davies)
@sailor @ship
filename[ ALBRTINA
play.exe ALBRTINA
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ALBION

Come all ye jovial seamen bold. come listen unto me!
A dreadful story shall be told that happened once at sea.
`Tis of the noble  Albion ship, upon the Irish coast,
And most of passengers and crew, they were completely lost.

It was the first of April from New York we set sail,
Kind Neptune did protect us with a sweet and pleasant
Until about the twentieth a storm then did arise,
The raging billows loud did roar and dismal were the skies.

It was on Sunday afternoon the land we did espy;
The southward winds began to blow, the sees ran mountains high.
The southward winds began to blow and heavy squalls came on,
Which made our passengers to weep and sailors for to mourn.

All prudent sail we carried to keep us clear from land,
Expecting every moment that our vessel she would strand.
Our foretopsail was split, my boys, our foreyard took away,
The mainmast by the deck was broke, and mizzen swept away.

We had a lady fair on board, Miss Powell was her name,
Whose name deserves to be engraved upon the list of fame;
She wished to take her turn at pump, her precious life to save,
No sooner was her wish denied, she met a watery grave.

Our captain was washed overboard, into the boundless deep,
Which caused all who were on board for to lament and weep.
Unto the pumps we lashed ourselves, most dreadful for to know,
And many a hearty soul, my boys, then overboard did go.

All night in this condition we lay tossing to and fro,
At two o'clock next morning were in the midst of woe;
Full twenty-seven men on deck, with each a broken heart,
The  Albion struck against a rock and midship she did part.

And now this noble vessel. The Albion she is lost,
Which had so oftentimes the tempestuous ocean crossed.
Our noble captain he is lost. a man, a sailor bold,
And many a jolly life is lost and many a heart laid cold.

Our passengers were twenty-seven, when from New York we came.
Full twenty-five bold sailor lads as ever crossed the main;
Full fifty-four, we had on board, when first we did set sail,
Only nine escaped the wreck to tell the dreadful tale.

From: Minstrelsy of Maine; 1927
From the manuscript book of Mrs. Susie Carr Young,
as sung in her family in Orland, Maine,
(Air: Young Caroline of Edinburgh Town

Note: The ship Albion, Williams master, from New York to Liverpool,
was wrecked on the Irish Coast, probably not far from Counsel,
at 4 A.M.. of the morning of April 22, 1822. Among those lost
was Professor Alexander Fisher of Yale College, the promised
husband of Miss Catherine Beecher, elder sister of Harriet
Beecher Stowe. Mrs. Young recalled having read this in the life
of Mrs. Stowe and reference to the volume furnished the date of
the shipwreck. The song was immensely popular and still
persists. We might have had numerous copies of it. One which
was taken down from the singing of Mr. John T. White, of
Brewer, Maine, was learned by him in his youth on Prince Edward
Island. AJS

@sailor @ship @wreck @storm
filename[ ALBION
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALCOHOLIC BABY

Come to me my alcoholic baby,
Cuddle up and don't get tight.
You've consumed a lot of whiskey, baby
I thaink that should hold you for the night:
Not ev'ry stomach has an iron-clad lining
Wait until the gin soaks through,
And smile, my honey dear
While I finish up my beer
So that I can be alcoholic, too.

Tune: Melancholy Baby, of course.
Note: Heard from Don Frye, a saloon piano player, ca 1950
@parody @drink
filename[ ALCOBABY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALCOHOLIC'S ANTHEM

What's the use of drinking tea,
Indulging in sobriety,
And teetotal perversity?
It's healthier to booze.
What's the use of milk and water?
These are drinks that never oughter,
Be allowed in any quarter.
Come on, lose your blues,
     Mix yourself a shandy,
     Drown yourself in brandy,
     Sherry sweet,
     Or whisky neat,
     Or any kind of liquor that is handy.
There's no blinking sense in drinking,
Anything that doesn't make you stinking,
There's no happiness like sinking,
Blotto to the floor.

Put an end to all frustration,
Drinking may be your salvation,
End it all in dissipation,
Rotten to the core.
Aberrations metabolic,
Ceilings that are hyperbolic,
These are for the alcoholic,
Lying on the floor.
     Vodka for the arty,
     Gin to make you hearty,
     Lemonade was only made,
     For drinking if your mother's at the party,
Just steer clear of home-made beer,
And anything that isn't labeled clear,
There is nothing else to fear, so
Bottom's up, my boys.

@drink
tune: Men of Harlech
filename[ ALCANTHM
play.exe HARLCH
CB,PW
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALEY, ALEY
(David Diamond)

Oh Water is weak, I don't drink wine,
Scotch is my choice when others buy.
But a beer or two, of a decent brew,
And both can drink, my love and I.

I placed my ass down upon some seat,
Thinking that it was a trusty chair.
But some stupid bloke played a nasty joke;
When I sat down it wasn't there.

Oh, vodka is strong, and sherry is fine
And Beaujolais when it is new,
But brandy that's old keeps out the cold,
Though it hurts your head in the morning too.

@drink
filename[ ALEYALEY
play.exe WATRWIDE
DD
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALICE B.

I'm goin'out west, down on the Rio Grande,
Singin' fare-thee, O my honey, O my honey, fare-thee well
I'm goin'out West, down on the Rio Grande,
And it's fare-thee, O my honey, fare-thee-well!


The twenty-fifth of September, Martin F. a man tall and slender
He was the man who committed that most terrible deed.

On a Sunday morning, with hardly any warning,
He shot and killed his high-brown Alice B.

Martin F. was a coward, he run, O how he did run
In his hand he carried a smokin' forty-one;

He ran up to de co't, says:" Judge, I committed tbat terrible crime
And now I'm ready for to serve my ninety-and-nine."
Alice B. like a baby lay on her dyin' bed.
She says:" Mammy, I want you to take care of my little girl

Keep her feet from slippin' through, 'cause I love her, 'deed I do
An'I hopes to meet her in that other worl'."

De judge held co't de very next day;
Martin F. refused, absolutely refused, to testify.

He says:" Judge, I killed my baby, my Alice B.,
And now that I killed her I'm all ready to die."

"She was a good woman, an' I loved her,'deed I did.
We had such good times, together all the time;

Till one night I went out, got filled with nigger gin,
An'when I saw her I completely los' my min'."

Then come all you rounders, an' all you high-browns too,
Take heed to what dis man has done.
You may go out some night, get filled with squirrel rum,
An' do the very same thing that Martin has done.

Then I'm goin' out West, down on the Rio Grande,
Singin' fare-thee, O my honey, O my honey, fare-thee-well!
I'm goin' out West, down on the Rio Grande,
Singin' fare-thee, O my honey, fare-thee-well!

From American Songbag, Sandburg
@murder @drink
filename[ ALICEB
play.exe ALICEB
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALICE'S RESTAURANT
(Arlo Guthrie)

Cho: You can get anything you want at Alice's restaurant
   You can get anything you want at Alice's restaurant
   Walk right in, it's around the back
   Just a half a mile from the railroad track
   You can get anything you want at Alice's restaurant

spoken:

This song is called "Alice's Restaurant".  It's about Alice,
and the restaurant, but "Alice's Restaurant" is not the name of
the restaurant, that's just the name of the song. That's why I
call the song "Alice's Restaurant."
Now it all started two Thanksgivings ago, two years ago, on
Thanksgiving, when my friend and I went up to visit Alice at the
restaurant.

But Alice doesn't live in the restaurant, she lives in the
church nearby the restaurant, in the bell tower with her husband
Ray and Facha, the dog.

And livin' in the bell tower like that, they got a lot of room
downstairs where the pews used to be, and havin' all that room
(seein' as how they took out all the pews), they decided that
they didn't have to take out their garbage for a long time.
We got up here and found all the garbage in there and we
decided that it'd be a friendly gesture for us to take the
garbage down to the city dump.

So we took the half-a-ton of garbage, put it in the back of a
red VW microbus, took shovels and rakes and implements of
destruction, and headed on toward the city dump.  Well, we got
there and there was a big sign and a chain across the dump
sayin', "This dump is closed on Thanksgiving," and we'd never
heard of a dump closed on Thanksgiving before, and with tears in
our eyes, we drove off into the sunset lookin' for another place
to put the garbage.
We didn't find one 'til we came to a side road, and off the
side of the side road was fifteen-foot cliff, and at the bottom
of the cliff was another pile of garbage. And we decided that
one big pile was better than two little piles, and rather than
bring that one up, we decided to throw ours down. That's what we
did.

Drove back to the church, had a Thanksgiving dinner that
couldn't be beat, went to sleep, and didn't get up until the next
morning, when we got a phone call from Officer Obie.  He said,
"Kid, we found your name on a envelope at the bottom of a half a
ton of garbage and I just wanted to know if you had any
information about it".

And I said, "Yes sir, Officer Obie, I cannot tell a lie. I put
that envelope under that garbage." After speakin' to Obie for
about forty-five minutes on the telephone, we finally arrived at
the truth of the matter and he said that we had to go down and
pick up the garbage, and also had to go down and speak to him at
the Police Officer Station.  So we got in the red VW microbus
with the shovels and rakes and implements of destruction and
headed on toward the Police Officer Station.

Now, friends, there was only one of two things that Obie
could've done at the Police Officer Station, and the first was
that he could've given us a medal for bein' so brave and honest on
the telephone (which wasn't very likely, and we didn't expect
it), and the other thing was that he could've bawled us out and
told us never to be seen drivin' garbage around in the vicinity
again, which is what we expected.

But when we got to the Police Officer Station, there was a
third possibility that we hadn't even count upon, and we was
both immediately arrested, and handcuffed, and I said, "Obie, I
can't pick up the garbage with these here handcuffs on".  He said:
"Shut up kid, and get in the back of the patrol car."

And that's what we did . . . sat in the back of the patrol car,
and drove to the quote scene of the crime unquote.
I wanna tell you 'bout the town of Stockbridge, Massachusetts,
where this is happenin'. They got three stop signs, two police
officers, and one police car, but when we got to the scene of the
crime, there was five police officers and three police cars,
bein' the biggest crime of the last fifty years and everybody
wanted to get in the newspaper story about it.

And they was usin' up all kinds of cop equipment that they had
hangin' around the Police Officer Station.  They was takin'
plaster tire tracks, footprints, dog-smellin' prints and they
took twenty-seven 8 by 10 colored glossy photographs with circles
and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explainin'
what each one was, to be used as evidence against us. Took
pictures of the approach, the getaway, the northwest corner, the
southwest corner . . . and that's not to mention the aerial
photography!

After the ordeal, we went back to the jail. Obie said he was
gonna put us in a cell.
He said: "Kid, I'm gonna put you in a cell. I want your wallet
and your belt."
I said, "Obie, I can understand your wantin' my wallet, so I
don't have any money to spend in the cell, but what do you want
my belt for?" and he said, "Kid, we don't want any hangin's."
I said, "Obie, did you think I was gonna hang myself for
litterin'?"

Obie said he was makin' sure, and, friends, Obie was, 'cause he
took out the toilet seat so I couldn't hit myself over the head
and drown, and he took out the toilet paper so I couldn't bend
the bars, roll the toilet paper out the window, slide down the
roll and have an escape. Obie was makin' sure.

It was about four or five hours later that Alice--(remember
Alice? This here's a song about Alice)--Alice came by and, with
a few nasty words to Obie on the side, bailed us out of jail, and
we went back to the church, had another Thanksgiving dinner that
couldn't be beat, and didn't get up until the next morning, when
we all had to go to court. We walked in, sat down, Obie came in
with the twenty-seven 8 by 10 colored glossy pictures with the
circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one, sat
down.

Man came in, said, "All rise!" We all stood up, and Obie stood
up with the twenty-seven 8 by 10 colored glossy pictures, and the
judge walked in, sat down, with a seein' eye dog and he sat down.
We sat down.

Obie looked at the seein' eye dog . . . then at the twenty-seven
8 by 10 colored glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and
a paragraph on the back of each one . . . and looked at the seein'
eye dog . . . and then at the twenty-seven 8 by 10 colored
glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back
of each on and began to cry.

Because Obie came to the realization that it was a typical case
of American blind justice, and there wasn't nothin' he could do
about it, and the judge wasn't gonna look at the twenty-seven
8 by 10 colored glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and
a paragraph on the back of each one explainin' what each one was,
to be used as evidence against us.
And we was fined fifty dollars and had to pick up the garbage ...
in the snow.

But that's not what I'm here to tell you about.

I'm here to talk about the draft.
They got a buildin' down in New York City called Whitehall
Street, where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected,
infected, neglected and selected!

I went down and got my physical examination one day, and I
walked in, sat down (got good and drunk the night before, so I
looked and felt my best when I went in that morning, 'cause I
wanted to look like the All-American Kid from New York City).  I
wanted to feel like . . . I wanted to BE the All-American Kid from
New York), and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung
down, hung up and all kinds of mean, nasty, ugly things.

And I walked in, I sat down, they gave me a piece of paper that
said: "Kid, see the psychiatrist in room 604."
I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I wanna kill. I wanna kill!
I wanna see blood and gore and guts and veins in my teeth!  Eat
dead, burnt bodies! I mean: Kill. Kill!"

And I started jumpin' up and down, yellin' "KILL! KILL!" and he
started jumpin' up and down with me, and we was both jumpin' up
and down, yellin', "KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!" and the sergeant
came over, pinned a medal on me, sent me down the hall, said "You're
our boy". Didn't feel too good about it. Proceeded down the hall,
gettin' more injections, inspections, detections, neglections,
and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me at the thing
there, and I was there for two hours ...three hours...four hours
nasty, ugly things, and I was havin' a tough time there, and they
was inspectin', injectin', every single part of me, and they was
leavin' no part untouched!

Proceeded through, and I finally came to see the very last man.
I walked in, sat down, after a whole big thing there. I walked
up, and I said, "What do you want?" He said, "Kid, we only
got one question: Have you ever been arrested"?
And I proceeded to tell him the story of Alice's Restaurant
Massacree with full orchestration and five-part harmony and stuff
like that, and other phe...

He stopped me right there and said, "Kid, have you ever been to
court"?  And I proceeded to tell him the story  of  the
twenty-seven 8 by 10 colored glossy pictures with the circles and
arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one . . .

He stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want you to go over
and sit down on that bench that says 'Group W'... NOW!"
And I walked over to the bench there, and there's ... Group W
is where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the
army after committin' your special crime.

There was all kinds of mean, nasty, ugly-lookin' people on the
bench  there . . . there was mother rapers, father-stabbers,
father-rapers! FATHER-RAPERS sittin' right there on the bench
next to me!  And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one . . . the
meanest father-raper of them all . . . was comin' over to me, and
he was mean and ugly and nasty and horrible and all kinds of
things, and he sat down next to me. He said, "Kid, what'd you
get?"

I said, "I didn't get nothin'. I had to pay fifty dollars and
pick up the garbage."

He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?" and I said,
"Littering"' . . . . And they all moved away from me on the bench
there, with the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean, nasty
things, till I said, "And creatin' a nuisance . . . " And they
all came back, shook my hand, and we had a great time on the bench
talkin' about crime, mother-stabbin', father-rapin', . . . all
kinds of groovy things that we was talkin' about on the bench,
and everything was fine.

We was smokin' cigarettes and all kinds of things, until the
sergeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it up and
said:
"KIDSTHISPIECEOFPAPERSGOTFOURTYSVENPAGESTHIRTYSEVENSENTENCESFIFTY-
EIGHTWORDSWEWANTTOKNOWTHEDETAILSOFTHECRIMETHETIMEOFTHECRIMEANDANY
OTHERKINDOFTHINGYOUGOTTOSAYPERTAININGTOANDABOUTTHECRIMEANYOTHERKIN
DOFTHINGYOUGOTTOSAYPERTAININGTOANDABOUTTHECRIMEWANTTOKNOWTHEARREST
INGOFFICERSNAMEANDANYOTHERTHINGYOUGOTTOSAY . . ."

And he talked for forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word
that he said.

But we had fun fillin' out the forms and playin' with the
pencils on the bench there.

I filled out the Massacree with the four-part harmony.  Wrote
it down there just like it was and everything was fine. And I
put down my pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and
there . . . on the other side . . . in the middle of the other
side . . .away from everything else on the other side . . .  in
parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the following words:
"Kid, have you rehabilated yourself"?
I went over to the sergeant. Said, "Sergeant, you got a lot of
damned gall to ask me if I've rehabilitated myself! I mean, I
mean, I mean that you send, I'm sittin' here on the bench, I mean
I'm sittin' here on the Group W bench, 'cause you want to know if
I'm moral enough to join the army, burn women, kids, houses and
villages after bein' a litterbug."

He looked at me and said, "Kid, we don't like your kind! We're
gonna send your fingerprints off to Washington"!

And, friends, somewhere in Washington, enshrined in some little
folder, is a study in black and white of my fingerprints.

And the only reason I'm singin' you the song now is 'cause you
may know somebody in a similar situation.

Or you may be in a similar situation, and if you're in a
situation like that, there's only one thing you can do:
Walk into the shrink wherever you are, just walk in, say,
"Shrink, . . . you can get anything you  want  at
Alice's Restaurant", and walk out.

You know, if one person, just one person, does it, they may
think he's really sick and they won't take him.

And if two people do it, in harmony, they may think they're
both faggots and they won't take either of them.

And if three people do it!  Can you imagine three people
walkin' in, singin' a bar of "Alice's Restaurant" and walkin'
out? They may think it's an organization!

And can you imagine fifty people a day? I said FIFTY people a
day, walkin' in, singin' a bar of "Alice's Restaurant" and
walkin' out? Friends, they may think it's a MOVEMENT, and that's
what it is: THE ALICE'S RESTAURANT ANTI-MASSACREE MOVEMENT! And
all you gotta do to join is to sing it the next time it comes
around on the guitar.

With feelin'.

Cho:
Copyright Appleseed Music, Inc.
@recitation @political @peace
filename[ ALICREST
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL AROUND MY HAT (I will wear the Green Willow)


My love she was fair, and my love she was kind
And cruel the judge and jury that sentenced her away
For thieving was a thing that she never was inclined to
They sent my love across the sea ten thousand miles away.

cho:

All around my hat, I will wear the green willow,
All around my hat for a year and a day
And if anyone should question me the reason for my wearing it
I'll tell them that my own true love is ten thousand miles away.

I bought my love a golden ring to wear upon her finger
A token of our own true love and to remember me
And when she returns again, we never will be parted
We'll marry and be happy for ever and a day.

Seven, seven long years my love and I are parted
Seven, seven long years my love is bound to stay
Seven long years I'll love my love and never be false-hearted
And never sigh or sorrow while she's far, far away.

Some young men there are who are preciously deceitful,
A-coaxin' of the fair young maids they mean to lead astray
As soon as they deceive them, so cruelly they leave them
I'll love my love forever though she's far, far away,

Recorded by Steeleye Span on All Around My Hat.
Note: This hit the pop charts in England in 1975 and made
  the Top Five, the highest chart placing ever for a traditional song. MJ
@courting @parting @transport
filename[ ROUNDHAT
play.exe ROUNDHAT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL AROUND MY HAT (Parody)

      All around my hat I will wear a green ribbon
    And all around my hat for a twelve-month and a day
      And if anyone should ask me the reason why I'm wearing it
       It's my bloody ribbon and it's my bloody hat!


I remember hearing

        All around my flat
      I shall wear my green wellies

sung by Jasper Carrot at the Cambridge Folk Festival circa 1976.  I don't
think he went any further than that.

@parody
filename[ RONDHAT2
play.exe ROUNDHAT
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL AROUND MY HEART (IRA)

cho: All round my heart, I'll wear the tri-colored ribbon
     All 'round my heart I'll wear the green white and gold;
     And if anyone should ask me the reason that I'm wearing it
     It's for my true love (I never more shall see) or (in the I.R.A.)

My true love is a soldier, he's fighting for old Ireland
His short service rifle is a wonder to see;
And as the moon was declining, he left me repining
His bright bayonet shining, to keep old Ireland free.

Note: ANYBODY KNOW ANY MORE OF THIS? RG
@Irish @rebel @parting
filename[ RONDHAT3
play.exe RONDHAT3
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL I WANT IS A HANDSOME MAN or RIPEST APPLES

Madam I am come to court you
If so be you'd let me in
Sit you down, you're kindly welcome
Then perhaps you'll call again

Madam I've got gold and silver
Madam I've got house and land
Madam I've a world of pleasure
All to be at your command

I don't value your gold and silver
I don't value your house and land
I don't value your worlds of pleasure
All I want is a handsome man

Why do you dive so deep in beauty
It's a flower will soon decay
You pick it on a summer's morning
Before the evening it fades away

Ripest apples are soonest rotten
Hottest love is soonest cold
Young men's words are soon forgotten
Pretty maid,  don't be too bold

After cowslips there come roses
After night there comes day
After false love comes a true love
So our time will pass away.

@courting
from Sedley, Seeds of Love, his note below
This song is closely related to O No John. Text based on
Hammond's manuscripts and a set collected by Sam Henry; tune
based on the nostalgic Irish air given by Sam Henry, For another
melody,  see O No John,
filename[ VANDY2
play.exe VANDY2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL IN AND DOWN AND OUT BLUES
(Uncle Dave Macon)

cho: It's hippity hop to the bucket shop
     I've lost all my mnoney and now I have flopped,
     It's hard times, pity poor boy,
     It's hard times when you're down and out.
     (Repeat after each verse)


Now this is the truth and it certainly exposes
That Wall Street's proposition is not all roses,

I put up my money to win some more
I lost all I had and it left me so sore.

I thought I would drink to wear it off,
Bootleg's so high that it left me worse off.

If they catch you with whiskey in your car,
You're handicapped,  and there you are.

They'll take you to jail and if you can't make bond,
Content yourself there, why you're certainly at home.

I've got no silver and I've got no gold,
I'm almost naked and it's done turned cold.

You ask that judge to treat you well,
You offer a hundred dollars he'll send you to Atlanta.

Note: a 1930's update of Durant Jail
Recorded by Uncle Dave Macon, Bluebird 7350-B
Copyright State Street Music Publishing Co.
@depression
filename[ DOWNOUTB
play.exe DOWNOUTB
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
     ALL MY LIFE'S A CIRCLE
Harry Chapin

(Starts with 2 stanza chorus):

All my life's a circle;
Sunrise and sundown;
Moon rolls thru the nighttime;
Till the daybreak comes around.

All my life's a circle;
But I can't tell you why;
Season's spinning round again;
The years keep rollin' by.

It seems like I've been here before;
I can't remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we'll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my roads have bends;
There's no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.

      Chorus:

I found you a thousand times;
I guess you done the same;
But then we lose each other;
It's like a children's game;

As I find you here again;
A thought runs through my mind;
Our love is like a circle;
Let's go 'round one more time.

      Chorus:

filename[ CIRCLIFE
JK
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL MY TRIALS, LORD

Hush little baby, don't you cry
You know your mama was born to die
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

Too late, my brothers
Too late, but never mind
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

If religion were a thing that money could buy
The rich would live and the poor would die
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

I've got a little book that was given to me
And every page spells liberty
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

There is a tree in Paradise
And the pilgrims call it the Tree of Life
All my trials, Lord, soon be over

recorded by Joan Baez
@death @religion
filename[ ALLTRIAL
play.exe ALLTRIAL
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC
(Ethel Lynn Beers and W.H. Goodwin)

"All quiet along the Potomac," they say,
Except now and then a stray picket
Is shot as he walks on his beat to and fro
By a rifleman hid in the thicket.
'Tis nothing. A private or two now and then
Will not count in the news of the battle;
Not an officer lost. Only one of the men
Moaning out all alone the death rattle.

All quiet along the Potomac tonight,
Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming,
Their tents in the rays of the clear autumn moon,
O'er the light of the watch fires, are gleaming;
There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread
As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two in the low trundle bed,
Far away in the cot on the mountain.

His musket falls slack, and his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,
As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,
For their mother, may Heaven defend her.
The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then
That night when the love yet unspoken
Leaped up to his lips when low-murmured vows
Were pledged to be ever unbroken.

Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
He dashes off tears that are welling,
And gathers his gun closer up to its place
As if to keep down the heart-swelling.
He passes the fountain, the blasted pine tree,
The footstep is lagging and weary;
Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,
Toward the shades of the forest so dreary-

Hark! Was it the night wind that rustled the leaves?
Was it moonlight so wondrously flashing?
It looks like a rifle---"Ah! Mary, good-bye!"
And the lifeblood is ebbing and splashing.
All quiet along the Potomac tonight,
No sound save the rush of the river;
While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead-
The picket's off duty forever.

@America  @Civil @war @army @tearjerker @death
filename[ ALLQUIET
play.exe ALLQUIET
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL ROUND MY HAT (variants)

All around my waist I shall wear a green willow,
It's all around my waist a green willow I will wear;
If anyone should ask me why I wear a green willow
I'll tell them that my Jimmy is far, far away.

From Maritime Folk Songs, Creighton
  Sung by Mr. Ned MacKay, Little Harbour, June, 1954

Note: The song is usually "All Round My Hat" although Mr. Sandy
Stoddard says "heart" and M:. McKay "waist".  It is usually the
willow that denotes the girl has been forsaken, but Mr. McKay gives
it as the laurel. Mr. Stoddard's words follow as recorded in 1953: HC

cho: All around my heart I will wa a green willow,
   All around my heart for a twelvemonth and a day,
   And if anyone should ask you why I wear this willow,
   Tell them my own true love, Johnny, is gone far away.
O if I had my own heart to keep it,
O if I had my own heart again,
I would fold it in my bosom, keep it ever keep it.
Never would it ramble so far, far again.

Johnny, dear Johnny, oh why did you leave me?
Why did you take my fond heart so far away?
If ever you come back you will find me still waiting,
Bring back my fond heart and bring it back to stay.

   Added in 1954:

Many were the long hours that I've spent in courting,
Many were the long hours that I've spent in vain,
But since it's my misfortune my Johnny's gone and left me
Never will I ramble so far, far again.

Oh Johnny, lovely Johnny, oh why did your leave me?
Why did you ramble so far, far away?
If ever you return you will find me still waiting,
But bring my own fond heart back home to me.

Young men are false and they are so deceiving,
Young men are false and they seldom prove true,
For their rambling and their ranging, their minds are always changing,
Always a-hunting for some fair girl that's new.

(sung by Neil O'Brien)

Seven long years that I have spent in courting
Seven long years that I have spent in vain,
But since it is my fortune that I must marry an old man
Never will I ramble so far, far again.

O if I only had my own heart to keep it,
O if I only had my own heart again,
I would roll it in my bosom, and keep it there forever.
Never would I ramble so far, far again.

From Maritime Folk Songs, Creighton
@parting @love
filename[ RONDHAT4
play.exe RONDHAT4
play.exe RONDHAT5
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THE PRETTY LITTLE HORSES

Hushaby, don' you cry
Go to sleepy little baby

When you awake you shall have cake
And all the pretty little horses.
Blacks and Bays, Dapples and Grays
Coach, and a six a little horses.

So hushaby,  etc.

Way down yonda', down in the medder
There's a poor little lambie.
Bees an' the butterflies peckin' out his eyes
Poor lambie cried fo' his mammy.

But hushaby, etc.
Folk Song U.S.A., Lomax
@lullaby
filename[ ALLHORSE
EL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THE TIMES YOU'RE GONE
(Utah Phillips)

I look to see the wild flowers bloomin'
And wonder why they seem so plain.
The springtime rides the brown hills over
Young birds sing in a silver rain.

CHORUS:
     I think of you as the night rolls by
     You're on my mind the whole day through
     Far away in a lonesome city
     All the times you're gone, I think of you.

And when my world is turned to sunlight
And the dust clouds stand in a summer sky
I number all the climbin' roses
Watch to see the milkweed fly.

CHORUS

And when I hear the south wind moanin'
Like an angels voice from a far off shore
My days slip by like light snow fallin'
Or the dry brown leaves blown by my door.

CHORUS (twice)

Copyright Bruce Philips
@country @love
filename[ ALLTIMES
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THE WORLD IS DESOLATION

All the world is desolation
Sad and quiet as the tomb.
Father has a penile stricture,
Mother has a droopy womb.
     Sister Amy was aborted
     For the forty-second time;
     Cousin Hymie was deported
     For a homosexual crime.
All the world is desolation
In our family, no one smiles.
All we do for recreation
Is crack ice, for Grandma's piles.

@gloom
filename[ WLDESOL
play.exe WLDESOL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THINGS ARE QUITE SILENT

All things are quite silent, each mortal at rest,
When me and my love got snug in one nest,
When a bold set of ruffians they entered our cave,
And they forced my dear jewel to plough the salt wave.

I begged hard for my sailor as though I begged for life.
They'd not listen to me although a fond wife,
Saying: "The king he wants sailors, to the sea he must go,"
And they've left me lamenting in sorrow and woe.

Through green fields and meadows we ofttimes did walk,
And sweet conversation of love we have talked,
With the birds in the woodland so sweetly did sing,
And the lovely thrushes' voices made the valleys to ring.

Although my love's gone I will not be cast down.
Who knows but my sailor may once more retum ?
And will make me amends For all trouble and strife,
And my true love and I might live happy for life.

From Penguin Book of English Folk Songs, Williams and Lloyd
See also Lowlands of Holland
Collected from Ted Baines, Sussex, 1904
@sailor @pressgang
filename[ THNGSLNT
play.exe THNGSLNT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THINGS BRIGHT AND BEAUTIFUL
(Cecil F. Alexander)

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful, the Lord God made them all.

Each little flow'r that opens, each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors, He made their tiny wings.

The purple-headed mountain, the river running by,
The sunset and the morning that brighten up the sky.

The cold wind in the winter, the pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden, He made them, every one.

He gave us eyes to see them, and lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty, who has made all things well.

@religion
filename[ BRTBEAUT
play.exe BRTBEAUT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THINGS DULL AND UGLY
(Monty Python)

     All things dull and ugly, all creatures short and squat;
     All things rude and nasty, the Lord God made the lot.

Each little snake that poisons, each little wasp that stings
He made their brutish venom, He made their horrid wings.

All things sick and cancerous, all evil great and small
All things foul and dangerous, the Lord God made them all.

Each nasty little hornet, each beastly little squid.
Who made the spiky urchin? Who made the shark? He did.

All things scabbed and ulcerous, all pox both great and small,
Putrid, foul and gangrenous, The Lord God made them all.

filename[ DULLUGLY
play.exe BRTBEAUT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THROUGH THE ALE

cho: All through the ale, the confounded ale
     All through the ale and tobacco
     With a whack fol the day, fol the diddle, fol the day
     All through the ale and tobacco.

The hat that I have on, it is so greasy gone
And as you can tell by its shining
It used to fasten up with a button and a loop
But now it's all worn out to the lining -

The coat that I have on, it is so far run down
Without the sleeves and the elbows
It's needing a repair like a soldier in despair
It's been seven years in the battle-

The britches I have on, they are so far run down
Me legs are so thin, you can see them
Pockets I have two, but it's so long since they was new
I never have a penny to put in them-

Stockings I have two, but never a shoe
Me boots, they are open to all weathers
I pull them off and on 'till the undersoles are gone
And shockingly destroyed the upper leathers-

As for me rags, I don't give a jag
I'm not afraid that anyone should rob me
And when I am dead, you can put it on me grave
I left this old world as it found me.

From singing of Caryl P. Weiss
@drink @sailor
filename[ HEREGRG2
play.exe HEREGRG2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL THROUGH THE NIGHT

Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee
All through the night
Guardian angels God will send thee
All through the night
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
Hill and dale in slumber sleeping
I my loving vigil keeping
All through the night

While the moon her watch is keeping
All through the night
While the weary world is sleeping
All through the night
O'er thy spirit gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure and holy feeling
All through the night
Though I roam a minstrel lonely
All through the night
My true harp shall praise sing only
All through the night
Love's young dream, alas, is over
Yet my strains of love shall hover
Near the presence of my lover
All through the night

Hark, a solemn bell is ringing
Clear through the night
Thou, my love, art heavenward winging
Home through the night
Earthly dust from off thee shaken
Soul immortal shalt thou awaken
With thy last dim journey taken
Home through the night

@lullaby @music
filename[ THRUNITE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL UNDER THE LEAVES

All under the leaves, the leaves of life I met with virgins seven
And one of them was Mary mild, our Lord's sweet mother in heaven
O, where are you going you seven pretty maids all under the leaves of life
We are seeking for sweet Jesus Christ to be our heavenly guide

Then go ye down to yonder town and sit in the gallery
And there you'll see sweet Jesus Christ nailed to a big yew tree
So they've run down to yonder town as fast as foot could fall
And many the bitter and the grievous tear from the virgins' eyes did fall

Don't weep mother, don't weep my dear your weeping does me grieve
For I must suffer this he said for Adam and for Eve
Oh, how may I my weeping leave my sorrow undergo
When I must see my own son die and sons I have no more

Then take you John Evangelist to be your eldest son
That he may comfort you some time as I have done
He's lain his head on his right shoulder and death has come him nigh
O come and claim me Holy Ghost, I die mother, I die

O the rose and the gentle rose the fennel that grows so strong
Amen dear lords and your charity is the ending of my song

@religious
filename[ SVNVIRG2
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALL-E-OXEN FREE
(Rob McKuen,lyrics, and ? Yates, music)

Time to let the rain fall without the help of man,
Time to let the trees grow tall, now if they only can,
Time to let our children live in a land that's free,

     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen,
     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen Free.

Time to blow the smoke away and look at the sky again,
Time to let our friends know that we'd like to begin again,
Time to send a message across the land and sea:

     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen,
     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen Free.

     Strong and weak, mild and meek,
     No more hide and seek.
     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen,
     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen Free.

Time to see the fairness of our children's games,
Time for man to stop and learn to do the same,
Time to make our minds up that the world at last will be

     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen,
     All-ee All-ee All-ee All-ee Oxen Free.

@political @children
filename[ ALLEOXEN
SP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALLA MARI

Alla mare mi portati se voleti i mici sonati
Alla mare alla mia cosa mi ama la donna mia
Alla mare alla mare mintre compo cogio a mare

To the sea to the sea let me follow
To save me from burning and heal my sorrow
Taking the way of sand and water
The tide is the last way to love my Mother
Alla mare alla mare mintre compo cogio a mare

Down the dunes with sister and stranger
The wicked women who dance in their danger
Craving the blessing all together
Of grass and sea with shell and feather
Alla mare alla mare mintre compo cogio a mare

So in love does my Lady enjoy me
That death by drowning shall not destroy me
Life on the tide will run before me
The long wave, the grey wave shall be my story

@Italian @love
filename[ ALLAMARI
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALLELUIA

Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia alleluia

note: Honest. That's it. RG
@round
filename[ ALLELUIA
play.exe ALLELUIA
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALLISON GROSS

Oh, Allison Gross, that lives in yon tower
The ugliest witch in the north country
Has trysted me one day up in her bower
And many fair speech she made to me

She stroked my head and she combed my hair
And she set me down softly on her knee
Says, "Gin ye will be my leman so true
Sae many braw things as I would ye gi'"

She showed me a mantle of red scarlet
With golden flowers and fringes fine
Says, "Gin ye will be my leman so true
This goodly gift it shall be thine"

"Away, away, you ugly witch
Hold far away and let me be
I never will be your leman so true
And I wish I were out of your company"

She next brought me a sark of the softest silk
Well wrought with pearls about the band
Says, "Gin ye will be my ain true love
This goodly gift you shall command"

She showed me a cup of the good red gold
Well set with jewels so fair to see
Says, "Gin ye will be my leman sae true
This goodly gift I will ye gi'"

"Away, away, you ugly witch
Hold far away and let me be
For I wouldna aince kiss your ugly mouth
For all the gifts that you could gi'"

She's turned her right and round about
And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn
And she swore by the moon and the stars abeen
That she would gar me rue the day I was born

Then out she has taken a silver wand
And she's turned her three times round and round
She's muttered such words till my strength it failed
And I fell down senseless upon the ground

She's turned me into an ugly worm
And gard me toddle around the tree
And aye, on ilka Saturday night
My sister Maisry came to me

With silver basin and silver comb
To comb my head upon her knee
Before I had kissed her ugly mouth
I'd rather have toddled about the tree

But as it fell out on last Halloween
When the seely court was riding by
The queen lighted down on a rowan bank
Not far frae the tree where I wont to lie

She took me up in her milk white hand
And she's stroked me three times on her knee
She changed me again to my ain proper shape
And I nae more maun toddle about the tree

Child #35
Recorded by Steeleye Span, Parcel of Rogues
@magic @myth
filename[ ALIGROSS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALMA
(Tom Lehrer)

The loveliest girl in Vienna
Was Alma, the smartest as well.
Once you picked her up on your antenna
You'd never be free of her spell.
Her lovers were many and varied,
From the day she began her beguine.
There were three famous ones whom she married
And God knows how many between.

Alma tell us,
All modern women are jealous,
Which of your magical wands,
Got you Gustav and Walter and Franz?

The first one she married was Mahler,
Whose buddies all knew him as Gustav,
And each time he saw her he'd holler:
"Ach! Das ist der Fraulein I moost have.''
Their marriage, however, was murder,
He'd scream to the heavens above:
"I'm writing Das Lied von der Erde
And she only wants to make love."

Alma tell us,
All modern women are jealous,
You should have a statue in bronze
For bagging Gustav and Walter and Franz.

While married to Gus she met Gropius
And soon she was swinging with Walter.
Gus died and her tear drops were copious;
She cried all the way to the altar.
But he would work late at the Bauhaus
And only came home now and then.
She said: "What am I running? A chow house?
It's time to change partners again!"
Alma tell us,
All modern women are jealous,
Though you didn't even use Ponds
You got Gustav and Walter and Franz.

While married to Walt she'd met Werfel
And he too was caught in her net.
He married her, but he was careful
Cause Alma was no Bernadette.
And that is the story of Alma,
Who knew how to receive and to give.
The body that reached her embalmer
Was one that had known how to live.

Alma tell us,
How can they help being jealous?
Ducks always envy the swans
Who get Gustav and Walter,
You never did falter,
With Gustav and Walter and Franz.
Copyright Tom Lehrer
@marriage
filename[ ALLMA
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALMA MATER (CORNELL)
  FAR ABOVE CAYUGA'S WATERS

Far above Cayuga's waters
With it's waves of blue
Stands our noble alma mater
Glorious to view

  Lift the chorus, speed it onward
  Loud her praises tell
  Hail to thee, our alma Mater
  Hail, all hail, Cornell

Far above the busy humming
Of the bustling town
Reared against the arch of heaven
Looks she proudly down

@college @Cornell
filename[ CRNLALMA
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALOUETTE

Alouette, gentile Alouette,
Alouette, je te plumerai.
Je te plumerai la tete,
Je te plumerai la tete,
Et la tete, et la tete, OH!
Alouette, gentile Alouette,
Alouette, je te plumerai.

Alouette, gentile Alouette,
Alouette, je te plumerai.
Je te plumerai le bec,
Je te plumerai le bec,
Et le bec, et le bec,
Et la tete, et la tete, OH!
Alouette, gentile Alouette,
Alouette, je te plumerai.

Repeat, using:
Le nez;  Le dos;  Les jambes;
Les pieds; Les pattes;  Le cou.

@French @bird @animal @camp
filename[ ALOETT
play.exe ALOETTE
JY

ALOUETTE  There is also a Ukrainian version, in the minor,
probably made by Dave and Andy Spalding of Edmonton, mid '70's:


cho: Alouettski, gentil alouettski
     Alouettski, je te plumerai - hoy!


Verse
Je te plumerai la tetski (je te...)
Et la tetski (et la...)
Alouettski (alouettski)
Oh-oh-oh-oh

(similarly:)
la nezekoff
le coupski, etc.  JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALPHA PHI OMEGA TOAST

Here's to Alpha Phi Omega,
Loyal Brothers we,
True to self and to each other
Firm in loyalty.
Daily working, daily striving,
Ever more to be,
Men of Alpha Phi Omega,
Our Fraternity.

Brothers clasp the hands of Brothers,
Strong the circle we,
Ever mindful, ever serving
All humanity.
Now we raise our grateful voices,
In our song to thee,
Men of Alpha Phi Omega,
May we always be.
@college
filename[ APOTOAST
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALTEH BUCK

I'm an alteh buck             I'm an old buck
Foon old Kentuck              From old Kentuck
Uhn ich triypst tsu town      And I drive to town
Lookin' like a schmuck        (schmuck is vulgar for stupid jerk

                                   literally, "penis")

Oy, ich triypst arum          Oh, I traipse around
Ahf a fehrdteleh              On a little horse
Ich hob der ganseh veldt      I regard the whole world
In d'rehrdtelleh              [as belonging] in hell
                              (if not in "hell", at least dead &
                               buried - "in the earth")
Yippee ay oh kiyay
Oy, Yippee ay oh kiyay        [The word for horse, "fehrdt" and
                              the word for hell, "d'rehrdt" (the
                              earth), are both in the grammatical
                              form, "affectionate-diminutive"]

tune: I'm an Old Cowhand
From Ray Sinick, riding instructor at the Fallsview Lodge
and Evergreen Manor (bygone), Ellenville, NY
@cowboy @parody @Yiddish
filename[ ALTEHBCK
JK
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALTERED
(Robert Burns)

How cruel are the Parents
  Who riches only prize,
And to the wealthy booby
  Poor Woman sacrifice:

Meanwhile the hapless Daughter
  Has but a choice of strife;
To shun a tyrant Father's hate,
  Become a wretched Wife.-

The ravening hawk pursuing,
  The trembling dove thus flies,
To shun impelling ruin
  Awhile her pinions tries;

Till of escape despairing,
  No shelter or retreat,
She trusts the ruthless Falconer
  And drops beneath his feet.

Tune:John Anderson My Jo (302)
@Scots @marriage
filename[ ALTERD
play.exe JOHNAND
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALWAYS A TRAIN IN MY DREAMS
(Steve Gillette and Charles John Quarto)

The trains ran past our house in the summertime
But it was the whistles that carried me away.
That's a feeling that is clear within this heart of mine.
And it gets a little stronger every day.

All through high school, time and time again,
I'd stare out the window and wait for a sign.
Seemed like it was always written down,
     On the railroad line.

There was always a train in my dreams.
Always a railroad, runnin' right under me.
There was never a night that I wasn't free
There was always a train in my dreams.

The years have peeled back like an old onion skin.
Gets sweeter and sweeter as the rain rolls in.
I know how it sounds and now I know what it means.
There was always a train in my dreams.

There was always a train in my dreams.
Always a railroad, runnin' right under me.
There was never a night that I wasn't free
There was always a train in my dreams.

There was always a train in my dreams.
Always a railroad, runnin' right under me.
There was never a night that I wasn't free
There was always a train in my dreams.

Copyright Foreshadow Music, BMI
Used by permission
@train @nostalgia
filename[ ALWAYTRN
play.exe ALWAYTRN
SG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ALZHEIMER'S

This is our anthem, this is our song:
We're singing it now for
Soon 'twill be gone
'Tis writ on our tee shirts,
Our rollicking rune
If only, if only
We reckon the tune.

Eastern religions extol the cow
And gurus evoke the Here and the Now.
Alzheimer's shows us this powerful fact
That Hereing and Nowing
Is where it is at.

@illness @age
filename[ ALZHMRS
SW
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMANECER (Daybreak )
(Tish Hinojosa)

Amanacer, suo inquieto se va
(Daybreak, restless sleep leaves you)
Entre tinieblas de ayer despiertas
(Between obsure thoughts of yesterday)
Vez la maana nacer
(And see the birth of the morning)
Aquel amor lejos de ti estara
(That love may be far from you)
Entre recuerdos la pasa
(In memories the night passes)
Lagrimas por mi seran
(Are those tears for me?)

cho: Te cantar un verso
     (I'll sing you a verse)
     Llenando el silencio de su soledad
     (To fill the silence of your lonliness)
     Simple melodia deseando a tu vida
     (Simple melody to wish your life)
     Felicidad
     (Happiness)

Cancin de amor a la salida del sol
(A song of love to the rising sun)
Un aquarela pintadndo el cielo
(Watercolors painting the sky)
Este regalo te doy
(This gift I give you)
Mi corazon siempre estar junto a ti
(My heart will always be by your side)
De magdruga mi sueo sabe
(At dawn my dream knows)
Que ests pensando de mi
(That you're thinking of me)

cho:
Copyright Tish Hinojosa
@Spanish @love
filename[ AMANECER
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMANG THE TREES
(Robert Burns)


Amang the trees, where humming bees
  At buds and flowers were hinging, O!
Auld Caledon drew out her drone,
  And to her pipe was singing, O!
'Twas Pibroch, Sang, Strathspeys and Reels-
   She dirl'd them aff fu clearly, O!
When there cam  a yell o' foreign squeels,
   That dang her tapsalteerie, O!

Their capon craws an queer ha, ha's,'
  They made our lugs grow eerie, O!
The hungry bike did scrape and pike,
  Till we were wae and weary, O.
But a royal ghaist, wha anee was cas'd
   A prisoner, aughteen year awa,
He fir'd a fiddler in the North,
  That dang them tapsalteerie, O!

                                 '
tune:The King of France, he rade a race (171)

@Scots @patriotic @music
filename[ AMNGTRES
play.exe AMNGTRES
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMAZING GRACE
(John Newton)

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace that fear relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils, and snares
I have already come
'Tis grace has brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home.

How sweet the name of Jesus sounds
In a believer's ear
It soothes his sorrows, heals his wounds
And drives away his fear.

Must Jesus bear the cross alone
And all the world go free
No, there's a cross for everyone
And there's a cross for me.

When we've been here ten thousand years
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise
Than when we first begun.

recorded on Judy Collins Whales & Nightingales
            Newport '63 Old Time
@religion
filename[ AMAZGRAC
play.exe AMAZGRAC
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMBLETOWN (HOME DEARIE HOME)

O Amble is a fine town with ships about the bay
It's fain and very fain to be there myself today
I'm wishing in my heart I was far away from here
Sitting in my parlor and talking with my dear

     And it's home, dearie, home, it's home I want to be
     My topsails are hoisted and I am out to sea
     The oak and the ash and the bonnie birchen tree
     Are all a-growing green in the North country
     And it's home, dearie, home

A letter came today, but somehow I cannot speak
And the proud and happy tears are a-rolling down my checks
There's someone here, she says, you've been waiting for to see
With your merry hazel eyes, looking up from off my knee

But the letter never said if we have a boy or girl
Got me so confused that my heart is all a whirl
So I'm going back to port, where I'll quickly turn around
And take the fastest ship, which to Ambletown is bound

Well, if it be a girl, she shall wear a golden ring
If it be a boy, he shall live to serve the King
With his buckles and his boot and his little jacket blue
He'll walk the quarterdeck, like his daddy used to do


recorded by Ed Trickett on Telling takes me Home
@plant @tree @sailor @clothes
filename[ AMBLTOWN
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMELIA EARHART'S LAST FLIGHT
(Red River Dave McEnery)

A ship out on the ocean, just a speck against the sky,
Amelia Earhart flying that sad day;
With her partner, Captain Noonan, on the second of July
Her plane fell in the ocean, far away.

cho: There's a beautiful, beautiful field
     Far away in a land that is fair.
     Happy landings to you, Amelia Earhart
     Farewell, first lady of the air.

She radioed position and she said that all was well,
Although the fuel within the tanks was low.
But they'd land on Howland Island to refuel her monoplane,
Then on their trip around the world they'd go.

Well, a half an hour later an SOS was heard,
The signal weak, but still her voice was brave.
Oh, in shark-infested waters her plane went down that night
In the blue Pacific to a watery grave.

Well, now you have heard my story of that awful tragedy,
We pray that she might fly home safe again.
Oh, in years to come though others blaze a trail across the sea,
We'll ne'er forget Amelia and her plane. Chorus

Note: This, oddly enough, was the first song ever performed on
commercial TV (1939 World's Fair, I believe) RG
Copyright Stasny Music, 1939. All rights administered by Bug Music, Inc.
@hero @flying @death
filename[ AMEARHRT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMERICA

Let us be lovers,
We'll marry our fortunes together.
I've got some real estate
Here in my bag.
So we bought a pack of cigarettes,
And Mrs. Wagner's pies,
And walked off to look for America.

Kathy, I said,
As we boarded a Greyhound in Pittsburgh,
Michigan seems like a dream to me now.
It took me four days
To hitch-hike from Saginaw
I've come to look for America

Laughing on the bus,
Playing games with the faces,
She said the man in the gabardine suit
Was a spy.
I said, Be careful,
His bowtie is really a camera.

Toss me a cigarette,
I think there's one in my raincoat.
We smoked the last one
An hour ago
So I looked at the scenery,
She read her magazine;
And the moon rose over an open field.

Kathy, I'm lost, I said,
Though I knew she was sleeping.
I'm empty and aching and I don't know why.
Counting the cars
On the New Jersey Turnpike.
They've all come to look for America,
All come to look for America.
@travel
filename[ AMERIC
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMERICA ('Tis of Thee)
(Samuel F. Smith)

My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty
Of thee, I sing
Land where my fathers dies, land of the Pilgrim's pride
From every mountain side, let freedom ring.

My native country, thee - Land of the noble free
Thy name I love
I love thy rocks and rills, thy woods and templed hills
My heart with rapture thrill, like that above.

Let music swell the breeze, and ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song
Let mortal tongues awake, let all that breathe partake
Let rocks their silence break, The sound prolong.

Our father's God to thee, author of liberty
To thee we sing
Long may our land be bright with freedom's holy light
Protect us by Thy might, great God, our king.

@patriotic
filename[ AMERTIS
play.exe GODSAVE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMERICAN PIE
(Don McLean)

A long long time ago,
I can still remember how,
That music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance,
And maybe they'd be happy for a while.
But February made me shiver,
With every paper I'd deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn't take one more step.
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.
So . . .

Chorus:
Bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ole boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing "This'll be the day that I die,
This'll be the day that I die."

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above?
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock and roll;
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
I know that you're in love with him;
'Cause I saw you dancin' in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes;
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck.
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.
I started singing . . .

Chorus

Now for ten years we've been on our own,
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone.
But that's not how it used to be,
When the jester sang for the king and queen
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean,
And a voice that came from you and me.
And while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned,
No verdict was returned.
And while Lenin read a book on Marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark,
The day the music died.
We were singing . . .
Chorus
Helter Skelter in a summer swelter;
The birds flew off to a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
Landed flat on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.
The halftime air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
But we never got a chance.
When the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed,
The day the music died?
We started singing . . .

Chorus
And there we were, all in one place,
A generation lost in space,
With no time left to start again.
So come on Jack be nimble, Jack be quick.
Jack flash sat on a candlestick,
Cause fire is the devil's only friend.
And as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that Satan spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw Satan laughing in delight,
The day the music died.
He was singing . . .

Chorus

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before.
But the man there said the music wouldn't play.
And in the streets the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken.
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most --
The father, son, and the holy ghost --
They caught the last train for the coast,
The day the music died.
They were singing . . .

Chorus
filename[ AMERPIE
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMERICAN PIE--PROGRAM NOTES
(Don McLean)
        The entire song is a tribute to Buddy Holly and a commentary on
how rock and roll changed in the years since his death.  McLean seems to
be lamenting the lack of "danceable" music in rock and roll and (in part)
attributing that lack to the absence of Buddy Holly et al.

(Verse 1)

A long, long time ago...
        "American Pie" reached number 1 in the US in 1972, but the album
containing it was released in 1971. Buddy Holly died in 1959.

I can still remember how
That music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance,
That I could make those people dance,
And maybe they'd be happy for a while.
        One of early rock and roll's functions was to provide dance music for
        various social events. McLean recalls his desire to become a musician
        playing that sort of music.

But February made me shiver,
        Buddy Holly died on February 3, 1959 in a plane crash in Iowa during
          a snowstorm.

With every paper I'd deliver,
        Don McLean's only job besides being a full-time singer-songwriter
        was being a paperboy.

Bad news on the doorstep...
I couldn't take one more step.
I can't remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride
        Holly's recent bride was pregnant when the crash took place; she
          had a miscarriage shortly afterward.
But something touched me deep inside,
The day the music died.
        The same plane crash that killed Buddy Holly also took the lives
          of Richie Valens ("La Bamba") and The Big Bopper ("Chantilly Lace")
          Since all three were so prominent at the time, February 3, 1959,
          became known as "The Day The Music Died".

So...

(Refrain)
Bye bye Miss American Pie,
        Don McLean dated a Miss America candidate during the pageant.
        (unconfirmed)
Drove my Chevy to the levee but the levee was dry
Them good ol' boys were drinkin whiskey and rye
Singing "This'll be the day that I die,
This'll be the day that I die."
        One of Holly's hits was "That'll be the Day"; the chorus contains
          the line "That'll be the day <pause> that I die".

(Verse 2)
Did you write the book of love,
        "The Book of Love" by the Monotones; hit in 1958.
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
        In 1955, Don Cornell did a song entitled "The Bible Tells Me
          So". Rick Schubert pointed this out, and mentioned that he hadn't
          heard the song, so it was kinda difficult to tell if it was what
          McLean was referencing.  Anyone know for sure?

          There's also an old Sunday School song which goes:
          "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so"
Now do you believe in rock 'n roll?
        The Lovin' Spoonful had a hit in 1965 with John Sebastian's
          "Do you Believe in Magic?".  The song has the lines:
          "Do you believe in magic" and "It's like trying to tell a
          stranger 'bout rock and roll."

Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?
        Dancing slow was an important part of early rock and roll dance
          events -- but declined in importance through the 60's as things
          like psychedelia and the 10-minute guitar solo gained
          prominence.
Well I know you're in love with him
'Cause I saw you dancing in the gym
        Back then, dancing was an expression of love, and carried a
          connotation of committment.  Dance partners were not so readily
          exchanged as they would be later.
You both kicked off your shoes
        A reference to the beloved "sock hop".  (Street shoes tear up
          wooden basketball floors, so dancers had to take off their shoes.)

Man, I dig those rhythm 'n' blues
        Some history.  Before the popularity of rock and roll, music,
          like much else in the U. S., was highly segregated.  The popular
          music of black performers for largely black audiences was called,
          first, "race music", later softened to rhythm and blues.  In the
          early 50s, as they were exposed to it through radio personalities
          such as Allan Freed, white teenagers began listening, too.
          Starting around 1954, a number of songs from the rhythm and blues
          charts began  appearing on the overall popular charts as well,
          but usually in cover versions by established white artists,
          (e. g.  "Shake Rattle and Roll", Joe Turner, covered by Bill
          Haley; "Sh-Boom", the Chords, covered by the Crew-Cuts;
          "Sincerely", the Moonglows, covered by the Mc Guire Sisters;
          Tweedle Dee, LaVerne Baker, covered by Georgia Gibbs).  By 1955,
          some of the rhythm and blues artists, like Fats Domino and
          Little Richard were able to get records on the overall pop charts.
          In 1956 Sun records added elements of country and western to
          produce the kind of rock and roll tradition that produced Buddy
          Holly. (Thanks to Barry Schlesinger for this historical note.
          ---Rsk)
I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck
        "A White Sport Coat (And a Pink Carnation)", was a hit for
          Marty Robbins in 1957. The pickup truck has endured as a symbol
          of sexual independence and potency, especially in a Texas context.
          (Also, Jimmy Buffet does a song about "a white sport coat and a
          pink crustacean". )
But I knew that I was out of luck
The day the music died
I started singing...

Refrain

(Verse 3)

Now for ten years we've been on our own
        McLean was writing this song in the late 60's, about ten years
          after the crash.
And moss grows fat on a rolling stone
        It's unclear who the "rolling stone" is supposed to be.  It
          could be Dylan, since "Like a Rolling Stone" (1965) was his first
          major hit; and since he was busy writing songs extolling the
          virtues of simple love, family and contentment while staying
          at home (he didn't tour from '66 to '74) and raking in the
          royalties.  This was quite a change from the earlier, angrier
          Dylan. The "rolling stone" could also be Elvis, although I don't
          think he'd started to pork out by the late sixties. It could refer
          to rock and rollers in general, and the changes that had taken
          place in the business in the 60's, especially the huge amounts
          of cash some of them were beginning to make, and the relative
          stagnation that entered the music at the same time. Or, perhaps
          it's a reference to the stagnation in rock and roll.
          Or, finally, it could refer to the Rolling Stones themselves;
          a lot of musicians were angry at the Stones for "selling out".
          Howard Landman points out that John Foxx of Ultravox was
          sufficiently miffed to write a song titled "Life At Rainbow's
          End (For All The Tax Exiles On Main Street)".  The Stones at
          one point became citizens of some other country merely to save
          taxes.
But that's not how it used to be
When the jester sang for the King and Queen
        The jester is Bob Dylan, as will become clear later. There are
          several interpretations of king and queen: some think that
          Elvis Presley the king, which seems pretty obvious. The queen
          is said to be either Connie Francis or Little Richard.  But see
          the next note. An alternate interpretation is that this refers
          to the Kennedys -- the king and queen of "Camelot" -- who were
          present at a Washington DC civil rights rally featuring Martin
          Luther King. (There's a recording of Dylan performing at this
          rally.)
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean
        In the movie "Rebel Without a Cause", James Dean has a red
          windbreaker that holds symbolic meaning throughout the film
          (see note at end.) In one particularly intense scene, Dean
          lends his coat to a guy who is shot and killed; Dean's father
          arrives, sees the coat on the dead man, thinks it's Dean, and
          loses it. On the cover of "The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan", Dylan
          is wearing just such as red windbreaker, and is posed in a
          street scene similar to one shown in a well-known picture of
          James Dean. Bob Dylan played a command performance for the
          Queen of England. He was *not* properly attired, so perhaps
          this is a reference to his apparel.

And a voice that came from you and me
        Bob Dylan's roots are in American folk music, with people like
          Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie. Folk music is by definition the
          music of the masses, hence the "...came from you and me".
Oh, and while the King was looking down
The jester stole his thorny crown
        This could be a reference to Elvis's decline and Dylan's ascendance.
          (i.e. Presley is looking down from a height as Dylan takes his
          place.) The thorny crown might be a reference to the price of
          fame. Dylan has said that he wanted to be as famous as Elvis,
          one of his early idols.
The courtroom was adjourned,
No verdict was returned.
        This could be the trial of the Chicago Seven.
And while Lennon read a book on Marx,
        Literally, John Lennon reading about Karl Marx; figuratively, the
          introduction of radical politics into the music of the Beatles.
          (Of course, he could be referring to Groucho Marx, but that doesn't
          seem quite consistent with McLean's overall tone. On the other
          hand, some of the wordplay in Lennon's lyrics and books is
          reminiscent of Groucho.) The "Marx-Lennon" wordplay has also
          been used by others, most notably the Firesign Theatre on the
          cover of their album "How Can You Be In Two Places At Once When
          You're Not Anywhere At All?". Also, a famous French witticism
          was "Je suis Marxiste, tendance Groucho."; "I'm a Marxist of
          the Groucho variety".
The quartet practiced in the park
        There are two schools of thought about this; the obvious one is
          Beatles playing in Shea Stadium, but note that the previous line
          has John Lennon *doing something else at the same time*. This
          tends to support the theory that this is a reference to the
          Weavers, who were blacklisted during the McCarthy era. McLean
          had become friends with Lee Hays of the Weavers in the early
          60's while performing in coffeehouses and clubs in upstate New
          York and New York City. He was also well-acquainted with Pete
          Seeger; in fact, McLean, Seeger, and others took a trip on the
          Hudson river singing anti-pollution songs at one point.
          Seeger's LP "God Bless the Grass" contains many of these songs.

And we sang dirges in the dark
        A "dirge" is a funeral or mourning song, so perhaps this is meant
          literally...or, perhaps, this is a reference to some of the new
          "art rock" groups which played long pieces not meant for dancing.
The day the music died.
We were singing...

Refrain

(Verse 4)

Helter Skelter in a summer swelter
       "Helter Skelter" is a Beatles song which appears on the "white"
          album.  Charles Manson, claiming to have been "inspired" by the
          song (through which he thought God and/or the devil were taking
          to him) led his followers in the Tate-LaBianca murders. Is
          "summer swelter" a reference to the "Summer of Love" or perhaps
          to the "long hot summer" of Watts?
The birds flew off with the fallout shelter
Eight miles high and falling fast
        The Byrd's "Eight Miles High" was on their late 1966 release
          "Fifth Dimension".  It was one of the first records to be widely
          banned because of supposedly drug-oriented lyrics.
It landed foul on the grass
        One of the Byrds was busted for possesion of marijuana.
The players tried for a forward pass
        Obviously a football metaphor, but about what?  It could be
          the Rolling Stones, i.e. they were waiting for an opening which
          really didn't happen until the Beatles broke up.
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast
        On July 29, 1966, Dylan crashed his Triumph 55 motorcycle while
          riding near his home in Woodstock, New York.  He spent nine months
          in seclusion while recuperating from the accident.
Now the halftime air was sweet perfume
        Drugs, man. Well, now, wait a minute; that's probably too obvious.
          It's possible that this line and the next few refer to the 1968
          Democratic National Convention.  The "sweet perfume" is probably
          tear gas.
While sergeants played a marching tune
        Following from the thought above, the sergeants would be the Chicago
          Police and the Illinois National Guard, who marched the protestors
          out of the park and into jail. Alternatively, this could refer to
          the Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band".  Or, perhaps
          McLean refers to the Beatles' music in general as "marching"
          because it's not music for dancing.  Or, finally, the "marching
          tune" could be the draft.
We all got up to dance
Oh, but we never got the chance
      The Beatles' 1966 Candlestick Park concert only lasted 35 minutes.
          Or, following on from the previous comment, perhaps he meant
          that there wasn't any music to dance to.
'Cause the players tried to take the field,
The marching band refused to yield.
        Following on from the Chicago reference above, this could be
          another comment on protests.  If the players are the protestors
          at Kent State, and the marching band the Ohio National Guard.
          This could be a reference to the dominance of the Beatles on
          the rock and roll scene.  For instance, the Beach Boys released
          "Pet Sounds" in 1966 -- an album which featured some of the same
          sort of studied and electronic experimentation as "Sgt. Pepper"
          (1967) -- but the album sold poorly. Some folks think this
          refers to either the 1968 Deomcratic Convention or Kent State.
          This might also be a comment about how the dominance of the Beatles
          in the rock world led to more "pop art" music, leading in turn
          to a dearth of traditional rock and roll. Or finally, this might
          be a comment which follows up on the earlier reference to the
          draft: the government/military-industrial-complex establishment
          refused to accede to the demands of the peace movement.
Do you recall what was revealed,
The day the music died?
We started singing

Refrain

(Verse 5)

And there we were all in one place
        Woodstock.
A generation lost in space
        Some people think this is a reference to the US space program,
          which it might be; but that seems a bit too literal.  Perhaps
          this is a reference to hippies, who were sometimes known as the
          "lost generation", partially because of their particularly acute
          alientation from their parents, and partially because of their
          presumed preoccupation with drugs. It could also be a reference
          to the awful TV show, "Lost in Space", whose title was sometimes

          used as a synonym for someone who was rather high...but I keep
          hoping that McLean had better taste.
With no time left to start again
        The "lost generation" spent too much time being stoned, and had
          wasted their lives?  Or, perhaps, their preference for psychedelia
          had pushed rock and roll so far from Holly's music that it
          couldn't be retrieved.
So come on Jack be nimble Jack be quick
        Probably a reference to Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones; "Jumpin'
          Jack Flash" was released in May, 1968.
Jack Flash sat on a candlestick
        The Stones' Candlestick park concert? (unconfirmed)
'Cause fire is the devil's only friend
        It's possible that this is a reference to the Grateful Dead's
          "Friend of the Devil". An alternative interpretation of the last
          four lines is that the may refer to Jack Kennedy and his quick
          decisions during the Cuban Missile Crisis; the candlesticks/fire
          refer to ICBMs and nuclear war.

And as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan's spell
        While playing a concert at the Altamont Speedway in 1968, the Stones
          appointed members of the Hell's Angels to work security (on the
          advice of the Grateful Dead).  In the darkness near the front of
          the stage, a young man named Meredith Hunter was beaten and stabbed
          death -- by the Angels.  Public outcry that the song "Sympathy for
          the Devil" had somehow incited the violence caused the Stones to
          drop the song from their show for the next six years. This incident
          is chronicled in the documentary film "Gimme Shelter". It's also
          possible that McLean views the Stones as being negatively inspired
          (remember, he had an extensive religious background) by virtue of
          "Sympathy for the Devil", "Their Satanic Majesties' Request"
          and so on.  I find this a bit puzzling, since the early Stones
          recorded a lot of "roots" rock and roll, including Buddy Holly's
          "Not Fade Away".
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite
        The most likely interpretation is that McLean is still talking
          about Altamont, and in particular Mick Jagger's prancing and posing
          while it was happening.  The sacrifice is Meredith Hunter, and the
          bonfires around the area provide the flames.
          (It could be a reference to Jimi Hendrix burning his Stratocaster
          at the Monterey Pop Festival, but that was in 1967 and this verse
          is set in 1968.)
I saw Satan laughing with delight
        If the above is correct, then Satan would be Jagger.
The day the music died
He was singing...

Refrain

(Verse 6)
I met a girl who sang the blues
        Janis Joplin.
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
        Janis died of an accidental heroin overdose on October 4, 1970.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I'd heard the music years before
        There are two interpretations of this: The "sacred store" was Bill
          Graham's Fillmore West, one of the great rock and roll venues
          of all time. Alternatively, this refers to record stores, and their
          longtime (then discontinued) practice of allowing customers to
          preview records in the store.  (What year did the Fillmore West
          close?) It could also refer to record stores as "sacred" because
          this is where one goes to get "saved". (See above lyric "Can music
          save your mortal soul?")
But the man there said the music wouldn't play
      Perhaps he means that nobody is interested in hearing Buddy Holly
          et.al.'s music?  Or, as above, the discontinuation of the in-store
          listening booths.
And in the streets the children screamed
     "Flower children" being beaten by police and National Guard troops;
          in particular, perhaps, the People's Park riots in Berkeley in
          1969 and 1970.
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed
        The trend towards psychedelic music in the 60's?
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
       It could be that the broken bells are the dead musicians: neither can
          produce any more music.
And the three men I admire most
The Father Son and Holy Ghost
        Holly, The Big Bopper, and Valens--or--Hank Williams, Presley and
          Holly-- or--JFK, Martin Luther King, and Bobby Kennedy-- or --

          the Catholic aspects of the deity. McLean had attended several
          Catholic schools.
They caught the last train for the coast
      Could be a reference to wacky California religions, or could just be
          a way of saying that they've left (or died -- western culture often
          uses "went west" as a synonym for dying). Or, perhaps this is a
          reference to the famous "God is Dead" headline in the New York
          Times. David Cromwell has suggested that this is an oblique
          reference to a line in Procol Harum's "Whiter Shade of Pale",
          but I'm not sure I buy that; for one thing, all of McLean's
          musical references are to much older "roots" rock and roll
          songs; and secondly, I think it's more likely that this line
          shows up in both songs simply because it's a common cultural
          metaphor.
The day the music died
        This tends to support the conjecture that the "three men" were
          Holly/Bopper/Valens, since this says that they left on the day
          the music died.
And they were singing...

Refrain (2x)

Chords to the song:
The song appears to be in G; the chords are:
 Intro:  G     Bm/F# Em    .     Am    .     C     .

         Em    .     D     .     .     .

         G     Bm/F# Em    .     Am    .     C     .

         Em    .     A     .     D     .     .     .

         Em    .     Am    .     Em    .     Am    .

         C     G/B   Am    .     C     .     D     .

         G     Bm/F# Em    .     Am    .     C     .

         G     Bm/F# Em    .     Am    .     D     .

         G     .     C     .     G     .     D     .

 Chorus: G     .     C     .     G     .     D     .

         G     .     C     .     G     .     D     .

         G     .     C     .     G     .     D     .

         Em    .     .     .     A     .     .     .   (all but

         Em    .     .     .     D     .     .     .    last chorus)

         C     .     D     .     G     C     G     .   (last chorus)

Other notes:

"Killing Me Softly With His Song", Roberta Flack's Grammy Award-winning
single of 1973, was written by Charles Gimble and Norman Fox about
McLean.
     The Big Bopper's real name was J.P. Richardson.  He was a DJ for a
Texas radio station who had one very big novelty hit, the very well
known "Chantilly Lace".  There was a fourth person who was going to
ride the plane.  There was room for three, ahd the fourth person lost
the toss -- or should I say won the toss.  His name is Waylon
Jennings...and to this day he refuses to talk about the crash.
(Jennings was the bass player for Holly's band at the time.  Some people
say that Holly had chartered the plane for his band, but that Valens
and/or Richardson was sick that night and asked to take the place of
the band members.)
     About the "coat he borrowed from James Dean": James Dean's red
windbreaker is important throughout the film, not just at the end.
When he put it on, it meant that it was time to face the world, time to
do what he thought had to be done, and other melodramatic but
thoroughly enjoyable stuff like that.  The week after the movie came
out, virtually every clothing store in the U.S. was sold out
of red windbreakers.  Remember that Dean's impact was similar
to Dylan's: both were a symbol for the youth of their time, a reminder
that they had something to say and demanded to be listened to.
     American Pie is supposed to be the name of the plane that crashed,
containing the three guys that died. (Reported by Ronald van Loon
from  the discussion on American Pie, autumn 1991, on rec.music.folk)
Dan Stanley mentioned an interesting theory involving all of this;
roughly put, he figures that if Holly hadn't died, then we would not
have suffered through the Fabian/Pat Boone/et.al. era...and as a
consequence, we wouldn't have *needed* the Beatles -- Holly was
moving pop music away from  the stereotypical boy/girl love
lost/found lyrical ideas, and was recording with unique instrumentation
and techniques...things that Beatles wouldn't try until about 1965.
Perhaps Dylan would have stuck with the rock and roll he played in
high school, and the Byrds never would have created an amalgam of
Dylan songs and Beatle arrangements.
     Lynn Gold tells me that  "Life" magazine carried an annotated version
of American Pie when the song came out; does anybody have a copy?
If so, please contact me, because I'd love to see it.

Still other notes:
     Andrew Whitman brings a sense of perspective to all of this by noting:
As to what they threw off the bridge, Bobbie Gentry once went on record with
the statement that it was the mystery that made the song, and that the mystery
>would remain unsolved.  Don McLean later used the same device to even
greater success with "American Pie," which triggered a national obsession
on figuring out the "real meaning" of the song.
     Well, probably not a national obsession, but certainly the life's work
of many talented scholars.  According to the latest edition of the
"American Pie Historical Interpretive Digest" (APHID), noted McLean
historian Vincent Vandeman has postulated that cheezy country
songs may have played a much more prominent role in the epic
composition than had originally been thought.  In particular, the
"widowed bride," usually supposed to be either Ella Holly or
Joan Rivers, may in fact be Billie Jo.  According to this radical
exegesis, the "pink carnation" of McLean's song is probably what
was thrown off the Tallahatchie Bridge, and was later found by
the lonely, teenaged McLean as he wandered drunkenly on the levee.
Of course, such a view poses problems.  McLean vehemently denies any
knowledge of Choctaw Ridge, and any theory linking the two songs
must surely address this mysterious meeting place of Billie Jo and
her husband Billy Joe.  Vandeman speculates that Choctaw Ridge may
have been the place McLean drove his Chevy after drinking whiskey
and rye, and that McLean may have been unaware of the name because
of his foggy mental state.  Still, there appear to be many tenuous
connections in Vandeman's interpretation - Tammy Wynette as the
girl who sang the blues, the proposed affair between Wynette and
Billie Joe which later led to d-i-v-o-r-c-e and Billy Joe's
suicide, the mysterious whereabouts of George Jones, and why
McLean insisted on driving a Chevy to the levee instead of a more
economical Japanese car.
     My own view is that none of it makes much sense.  Vandeman's theory
is intriguing, but it seems far more logical to hold to the traditional
interpretation of "American Pie" as an eschatological parable of
nuclear destruction and the rebirth of civilization on Alpha Centauri.
[ Thanks, Andrew.  I'll take it under advisement.--Rsk ]
References:
Billboard Book of Number One Hits, by Fred Bronson, Billboard, 1985.
Encyclopedia of Pop, Rock and Soul, revised edition, by Irwin Stambler,
St. Martin's Press, 1989.
Return of the Straight Dope, by Cecil Adams, Ballatine Books, 1994, p.39
Rock Chronicle, by Dan Formento, Delilah/Putnam, 1982.
Rock Day by Day, by Steve Smith and the Diagram Group, Guiness Books, 19
Rock Topicon, by Dave Marsh, Sandra Choron and Debbie Geller,
Contemporary Books, 1984.
Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock & Roll, ed. by Jon Pareles and
Patricia Romanowski, Rolling Stone Press/Summit Books, 1983.
Rolling Stone Record Guide, ed. by Dave Marsh with John Swenson, Random
House/Rolling Stone Press, 1979.
The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage, by Todd Gitlin, Bantam Book, 1987.
Smiling Through the Apocalypse: Esquire's History of the Sixties, ed. by
Harold Hayes, Esquire Press, 1987.
It was Twenty Years ago Today: An Anniversary Celebration of 1967, by
Derek Taylor, Fireside, 1987.
Don Wegeng mentioned that some of his comments came from an interpretation
broadcast by radio station WIFE (AM) in Indianapolis, which was the most
popular station in Indy when American Pie was a hit. RSK

NOTE: This should be the Digital Traditions final word on the
subject. I won't even attempt to attach keywords. RG

filename[ AMPIE2
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMERICAN TUNE
(words by Paul Simon; music adapted from JS Bach )

Many's the time I've been mistaken, and many times confused
And I've often felt forsaken, and certainly misused.
But it's all right, it's all right, I'm just weary to my bones
Still, you don't expect to be bright and Bon Vivant
So far away from home, so far away from home.

I don't know a soul who's not been battered
Don't have a friend who feels at ease
Don't know a dream that's not been shattered
Or driven to its knees.
But it's all right, all right, We've lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road we're traveling on,
I wonder what went wrong, I can't help it
I wonder what went wrong.


      And I dreamed I was flying. I dreamed my soul rose
      unexpectedly, and looking back down on me, smiled
      reassuringly, and I dreamed I was dying.
      And far above, my eyes could clearly see
      The Statue of Liberty, drifting away to sea
      And I dreamed I was flying.

We come on a ship we call the Mayflower,
We come on a ship that sailed the moon
We come at the age's most uncertain hour
And sing the American tune
But it's all right, its all right
You can't be forever blessed
Still, tomorrow's gonna be another working day
And I'm trying to get some rest,
That's all, I'm trying to get some rest.

@America
filename[ AMERTUNE
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMONG MY SOUVENIRS

Last week my honeymoon started:
I like a fool took a wife
But after the guests had departed
I took the shock of my life:
Out came her big glass eye
Her false teeth on the sly
She gently placed them down upon the chiffonier.
She then unscrewed her leg
And hung it on a peg
And oh my eyes were filled with many a bitter tear.
Her beautiful golden hair
She hung upon the chair
And what was left of her
Slipped in between the blankets.
I looked at her and said
I am not coming to bed
I'd rather sleep instead
Among my souvenirs...

--------------------------------------------------------------------
collected by Karl Dallas in Suffolk. Published in "The Electric Muse".
Sung to the tune of "After The Ball"

@parody @bawdy @marriage @humor @wife
filename[ UNFORT2
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMONG THE BLUE FLOWERS AND THE YELLOW

"Oh, Willie, my son, what makes ye so sad?"
     As the sun shines over the valley
"I lie sorely sick for the love of a maid."
     Among the blue flow'rs and the yellow.

"Oh, is she an heiress or lady fine?"
"That she winna take nae pity on thee?"

"Oh, Willie, my son, lay doon in your bed."
"And I will go tell her that my young son is dead."

And the lady came doon frae her castle sae high
Not knowing her Willie would sicken and die.

As she looked into the coffin and pall
He pulled her doon by him and lay her ni'est the wall.

"Though all of your kin were aboot yon bower
Ye shall no be a maiden one single hour."

"For a maid ye came here wi' oot a convoy
And ye shall return wi' a horse and a boy."

"Ye came here a maiden sae meek and sae mild
But ye shall gae hame a wedded wife wi' a child."

Note: sort of a mixture of Lord Randall, Willie's Lyke-Wake and
     a couple of others. RG
From Harmonious Companions, Myers
Transcribed from the singing of Gordeanna McCulloch
@Scots @rape @marriage @trick
filename[ AMONGBLU
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AMTRAK SONG

If you miss the train I'm on,
And you doubt that I'll be back,
You will know the train I'm on
Is called AmTrak.

Lord, I'm one; Lord, I'm two;
Lord, I'm three; Lord, I'm four;
Lord, I'm five hours late
To New York.

Not a seat on the train,
Not a place to put my pack,
As the train crawls along
Decrepit track.

Lord, there's one; Lord, there's two;
Lord, there's three; Lord, there's four;
Lord, there's five wrecks a month
On this line.

Warm flat soda to drink,
Stale sandwiches to eat,
And I'd hate to see the cow
That gave this meat.

Lord, there's one; Lord, there's two;
Lord, there's three; Lord, there's four;
Lord, there's five strains of mold
On this bread.

Four O'Clock in the morn,
And a blizzard at my back,
As I'm standing by the track,
In Buffalo.

Lord, there's one, maybe one,
Only one, surely one,
Lord, there's one train a night
On this line.

There's a train going here,
There's a train going there,
But you can't get there from here
On AmTrak.

There's just no train at all,
Yes, there's no train at all,
'Cause they've cut the train that goes
From here to there.

@train @parody
tune: Five Hundred Miles
filename[ AMTRAKK
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANACREONTIC SONG (2)
(Ralph Tomlinson)

To Anacreon, in Heav'n, where he sat in full glee,
A few sons of harmony sent a petition,
That he their inspirer and patron would be;
When this answer arrived from the jolly old Grecian --
   Voice, fiddle and flute,
   No longer be mute.
   I'll lend ye my name, and inspire ye to boot...
And, besides, I'll instruct ye, like me, to entwine,
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

The news through Olympus immediately flew;
Where Old Thunder pretended to give himself airs --
If these mortals are suffer'd their scheme to pursue,
There's devil a goddess will stay above stairs.
   Hark! already they cry,
   In transports of joy.
   A fig for Parnassus! to Rowley's we'll fly;
And there, my good fellows, we'll learn to entwine,
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

The yellow-hair'd god, and his nine fusty maids,
To the hill of old Lud will incontinent flee.
Idalia will boast but of tenantless shades,
And the biforked hill a mere desert will be.
   My thunder, no fear on't,
   Will soon do its errand,
   And dam'me! I'll swinge the ringleaders, I warrant.
I'll trim the young dogs, for thus daring to twine,
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

Apollo rose up; and said, Pr'ythee ne'er quarrel,
Good king of the gods, with my vot'ries below!
Your thunder is useless -- then, shewing his laurel,
Cry'd, _Sic evitabile fulmen_, you know!
   Then over each head
   My laurels I'll spread;
   So my sons from your crackers no mischief shall dread,
Whilst snug in their club-room, they jovially twine,
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

Next Momus got up, with his risible phiz;
And swore with Apollo he'd cheerfully join --
The full tide of harmony still shall be his,
But the song, and the catch, and the laugh shall be mine;
   Then, Jove, be not jealous
   Of these honest fellows.
   Cry'd Jove, We relent, since the truth you now tell us;
And swear, by Old Styx, that they long shall entwine,
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.

Ye sons of Anacreon, then, join hand in hand;
Preserve unanimity, friendship and love.
'Tis your's to support what's so happily plan'd;
You've the sanction of gods, and the fiat of Jove.
   While thus we agree,
   Our toast let it be.
   May our club flourish happy, united and free!
And long may the sons of Anacreon entwine,
The myrtle of Venus with Bacchus's vine.
Note: This poem, "To Anacreon in Heaven," was written in 1770 by Ralph
Tomlinson, president of the Anacreontic Society, a social club of well-to-do
Londoners, as the society's drinking song.  It was set to music in 1771 by
John Stafford Smith, an organist, composer and tenor.
    About 43 years later, the American patriot Francis Scott Key, after
witnessing the British attack on Fort McHenry in the War of 1812, wrote the
lyrics to "The Star Spangled Banner" to the popular tune.
    Nowadays, of course, the U.S. National Anthem is customarily played as a
solemn hymn.  The original, however, is a sprightly dance tune, and even as
recently as the American Civil War, the anthem was traditionally played in a
much lighter style than we are accustomed to hearing today.
    Original performances on current recordings include "Should Auld
Acquaintance Be Forgot: America's most popular songs in their original
versions," on Musical Heritage Society compact disk MHS 512415X, which
presents the Anacreontic song in its original version (and the liner notes
for which are the source of the preceding transcription); and "Honor to Our
Soldiers, Music of the Civil War," on Musical Heritage Society compact disk
MHS 512959F, which offers the Star Spangled Banner as it might have been
played by a military band of the Civil War era.
    The Smithsonian's Museum of American History also offers an excellent
survey of the various styles of the anthem through the ages in its hourly
presentation at the Fort McHenry banner display, which is definitely worth a
visit.
    It takes a certain imagination to stretch the sonorous tones of the
anthem as we know it today to Tomlinson's original lyrics .JB

@drink @English
filename[ ANACRON2
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANALIZATION

intro (recitative):
     What are mortals made of?
     By analization I've tried all the nation
     Defined each gradation
     In every station
     With Sir Humphry's best new chemical test
     And found what mortals are made of.

What are lawyers made of?
Of causes and fees
Demurrers and pleas,
Learned brother and lots of pother
Counsel and jury with very wise looks
Flaw in the indictment and statute books
Such are our lawyers made of,
Such are our lawyers made of,

What are our old maids made of?
What are our old maids made of?
Of thrown away sighs, and crows'feet eyes,
Of sprigs of rue and vinegar too,
Parchment skin and faltering walk,
Chit chat  and slander to talk;
And such are our old maids made of,
And such are our old maids made of.

What are old bacheldores made of?
What are old bacheldores made of?
Of bread and cheese and very weak knees,
Of snivelling nose and rheumatic toes.
Domestic comtort they say is all strife,
But yet in their hearts they all long for a wife
And such are old bacheldores made of,
And such are old bacheldores made of.

What are New Yorkers made of?
What are New Yorkers made of?
Of State House in Park, Broadway in the dark
Of ladies who flash and cut such a dash
The home of the stranger, delight of the brave
Lots of frolic and fashion and brokers that shave.
And such are New Yorkers made of,
And such are New Yorkers made of.

What are Philadelphians made of?
What are Philadelphians made of?
Of dandies and Quakers and Germans and Shakers
Of fine Schuylkill coal and shad by the shoal.
At the mint they make money, Oh lawks, what a pile
And the market it reaches for nearly a mile,
And such are Philadelphians made of,
And such are Philadelphians made of.

A stage number, ca 1830s. Sir Humphry was Sir Humphry Davies,
     inventor of the miner's safety lamp. RG
@science
filename[ ANLZTION
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANCHORS AWEIGH
(A.H. Miles and Charles Zimmerman)

Stand, Navy, down the field
Sails set to the sky;
We'll never change our course
So Army, you steer shy.
Roll up the score, Navy
Anchor's aweigh!
Sail, Navy, down the field
And sink the Army, sink the Army grey.

Get under way, Navy
Decks cleared for the fray.
We'll hoist the Navy blue
So Army, down your grey-ey-ey-ey
Full speed ahead, Navy,
Army, Heave to!
Furl black and grey and gold
And hoist the Navy, hoist the Navy blue.

Blue of the seven seas,
Gold of God's great sun,
Let these our colours be
'Til all of time be done-ne-ne-ne
By Severn shore we learn
Navy's stern call;
Faith, courage, service true
With honor over, honor over all

Anchors aweigh, my boys,
Anchors aweigh
Farewell to college joys,
We sail at break of day-ay-ay-ay
Through our last night ashore,
Drink to the foam.
And 'til we meet once more,
Here's wishing you a happy voyage home.

Copyright Robbins Music Corp.
Note: the first 3 verses (the lesser-known ones) are from the
  Triton Society's Navy Song Book, 1942 edition. I can't seem to
  find where verse 4 comes from, and when. Anybody out there know?
@navy @school
filename[ ANCHRAWA
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ANCIENT AND OLD IRISH CONDOM
(Celtic Pride)

    (Tune: "Rosin the Beau")

I was up to me arse in the muck, Sir,
With a peat contract down in the bog
When me shovel it struck something hard, Sir,
That I thought was a rock or a log

'Twas a box of the finest old oak, Sir,
'Twas a foot long, and four inches wide
And not giving a damn for the Fairies
I just took a quick look inside

Now I opened the lid of this box, Sir,
And I swear that my story is true
T'was an ancient and old Irish condom
A relic of Brian Boru

'Twas an ancient and old Irish condom
'Twas a foot long, and made of elk hide,
With a little gold tag on it's end, Sir,
With his name, rank, and stud fee inscribed

Now, I cast me mind back thru the ages
To the days of that horny old Celt
With his wife lyin' by on the bed, Sir,
As he stood by the fire in his pelt

And I thought that I heard Brian whisper
As he stood in the fire's rosy light
"Well, you've had yer own way long enough, dear...
'Tis the hairy side outside, tonight."
@Irish @bawdy
filename[ CONDOM
play.exe ROSINBOW
RD
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AND EVERY ONE

And every one neath their vine and fig tree
Shall live in peace and unafraid
And every one neath their vine and fig tree
Shall live in peace and unafraid

And into plowshares turn their swords
Nations shall learn war no more
And into plowshares turn their swords
Nations shall learn war no more

Lo yeesa goy el goy chereve
Lo yilmedo od milchama
Lo yeesa goy el goy chereve
Lo yilmedo od milchama

@Israel  @peace
filename[ ANDEVERY
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AND SO IT GOES
(Billy Joel)

In every heart, there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds of lovers past
Until a new one comes along.

I spoke to you  in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense

And every time  I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so  will you soon I suppose.

But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break.

And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows.

So I will choose to be with you
As if the choice were mine to make
For you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break.

And so it goes and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows.

Copyright Billy Joel
filename[ ANDSOIT
JM
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AND THE MOON SHONE BRIGHT AND CLEARLY..

A mile and a bit aff, a mile or twa,
Up in the barn, (up in) the loft,
Davie (O'Donal) an' Charlie and a'
And the moon was shinin' clearly.

Yin went hame wi' the other and then,
The other went hame wi' the other twa men,
An' baith wad return in the service again,
And the moon was shinin' clearly.

It's oot the barn and o'er the hill,
Through the dark, and there's the still,
A cup in yer hand an' drink yer fill,
And the moon was shinin'...clear.

Clocks wer chappin' in hoose and ha',
Aleeven, twelve an' yin an' twa,
The guidman's face was turned ta the wa',
And the moon was shinin' clearly.

A wind got up fae aff o' the sea,
It blew the stars as clear as could be,
It blew in the e'en o'er a' the (fee),
And the moon was shinin' clearly.

It's oot the barn and o'er the hill,
Through the dark, and there's the still,
A cup in yer hand an' drink yer fill,
And the moon was shinin'...clear.

Noo Davie was first ta get sleep in his head,
"The best of dreams (me entwine)," he says,
"I'm (weary) from here, I'm awa' ta ma bed,"
And the moon was shinin' clearly.

Twa o' them (walkin') and crackin' and leeing,
The mornin' light come grey an plain,
And the birds they yammer'd on stick an' stane,
And the moon was shinin' clearly.

It's oot the barn and o'er the hill,
Through the dark, and there's the still,
A cup in yer hand an' drink yer fill,
And the moon was shinin'...clear.

Years ayont, years awa'
The lads, ye'll mind whatere befa'
Lads ye'll mind (on if ye've) gone awa'
And the moon was shinin' clearly.

It's oot the barn and o'er the hill,
Through the dark, and there's the still,
A cup in yer hand an' drink yer fill,
And the moon was shinin'...clear.

Recorded by De Dannan
@Irish
filename[ MOONCLER
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AND WHEN I DIE
(Laura Nyro)

And when I die, and when I'm dead, dead and gone,
There'll be one child born,
And a world to carry on.
There'll be one child born to carry on.

I'm not scared of dying,
And I don't really care.
If it's peace you find in dying,
Well then let the time be near.
If it's peace you find in dying,
When dying time is here, just
Bundle up my coffin
'Cause it's cold way down there.

Chorus:

And when I die, and when I'm gone,
There'll be one child born and
A world to carry on.
There'll be one child born to carry on.

My troubles are many, they're as deep as a well.
I can swear there ain't no heaven but I pray there ain't no hell.
I can swear there ain't no heaven and I pray there ain't no hell,
But I'll never know by living, only my dying will tell.

Chorus

Give me my freedom for as long as I be.
All I ask of living is to have no chains on me.
All I ask of living is to have no chains on me,
And all I ask of dying is to go naturally.

Copyright Laura Nyro
@death
filename[ WHENIDIE
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANDREW BARTON

As itt beffell in midsummer-time,
When burds singe sweetlye on euery tree,
Our noble king, King Henery the Eighth,
Ouer the river of Thames past hee.

Hee was no sooner ouer the riuer,
Downe in a fforrest to take the ayre,
But Eighty merchants of London cittye
Came kneeling before King Henery there.

"O yee are welcome, rich merchants,
Good saylers, welcome unto me!"
They swore by the rood they were saylers good,
But rich merchants they cold not bee.

"To Ffrance nor Fflanders dare we nott passe,
Nor Burdeaux voyage wee dare not ffare,
And all ffor a ffalse robber that lyes on the seas,
And robbs us of our merchants ware."

King Henery was stout, and he turned him about,
And swore by the Lord that was mickle of might,
"I thought he had not beene in the world throughout
That durst haue wrought England such unright."

But ever they sighed, and said, "alas!"
Unto King Harry this answere againe:
"He is a proud Scott that will robb us all
If wee were twenty shipps and hee but one."

The king looket ouer his left shoulder,
Amongst his lords and barrons soe ffree:
"Have I never lord in all my realme
Will ffeitch yond traitor unto mee?"

"Yes, that dare I!" sayes my lord Charles Haward,
Neere to the king wheras hee did stand;
"If that Your Grace will give me leave,
My selfe will be the only man."

"Thou shult have six hundred men" saith our king,
"And chuse them out of my realme soe ffree;
Besids marriners and boyes
To guide the great shipp on the sea "

"Ile goe speake with Sir Andrew," sais Charles, my lord Haward;
"Upon the sea, if he be there
I will bring him and his shipp to shore
Or before my prince I will never come neer."

The ffirst of all my lord did call
A noble gunner hee was one;
This man was three score yeeres and ten,
Anr Peeter Simon was his name.

"Peeter," sais hee, "I must sayle the sea,
To seeke out an enemye; God be my speed
Before all others I have chosen thee;
Of a hundred gunners thoust be my head."

"My lord," sais hee, "if you have chosen mee
Of a hundred gunners to be the head,
Hange me att your maine-mast tree
If I misse my marke past three pence bread."

The next of all my lord he did call,
A noble bowman hee was one;
In Yorekeshire was this gentleman borne,
And William Horsley was his name.

"Horsley," sayes hee, "I must sayle to the sea,
To seeke out an enemye; God be my speede
Before all others I have chosen thee;
Of a hundred bowemen thoust be my head."

"My lord," sais he, "if you haue chosen mee
Of a hundred bowemen to be the head,
Hang me att your mainemast-tree
If I misse my marke past twelve pence bread."

With pikes, and gunnes, and bowemen bold
This noble Haward is gone to the sea,
On the day before midsummer-even,
And out att Thames mouth sayled they.

They had not sayled dayes three
Upon their journey they tooke in hand,
But there they mett with a noble shipp,
And stoutely made itt both stay and stand.

"Thou must tell me thy name," sais Charles, my lord Haward,
"Or who thou art, or ffrom whence thou came,
Yea, and where thy dwelling is,
To whom and where thy shipp does belong."

"My name," says hee, "is  Henery Hunt,
With a pure hart and a penitent mind;
I and my shipp they doe belong
Unto the New-castle that stands vpon Tine"'

"Now thou must tell me, Harry Hunt,
As thou hast sayled by day and by night,
Hast thou not heard of a stout robber?
Men calls him Sir Andrew Bartton, Knight.

But ever he sighed, and sayd, "Alas!
Ffull well, my lord, I know that wight;
He robd me of my merchants ware,
And I was his prisoner but yesternight."

"As I was sayling upon the sea,
And a Burdeaux voyage as I did ffare,
He clasped me to his archborde,
And robd me of all my merchantsware."

"And I am a man both poore and bare,
And every man will have his owne of me,
And I am bound towards London to ffare,
To complaine to my prince Henerye."

"That shall not need," sais my lord Haward;
"If thou canst lett me this robber see,
Ffor euery peny he hath taken thee ffroe,
Thou shalt be rewarded a shilling."  quoth hee.

"Now God fforefend" sais Henery Hunt
"My lord, you shold worke soe ffarr amisse!
God keepe you out of that traitors hands!
For you wott ffull litle what a man hee is.

"Hee is brasse within, and steele without,
And beames hee beares in his topcastle stronge;
His shipp hath ordinance cleane round about;
Besids, my lord, hee is verry well mand.

"He hath a pinnace, is deerlye dight,
Saint Andrews crosse, that is his guide;
His pinnace beares nine score men and more,
Besids fifteen cannons on euery side.

"If you wvere twenty shippes, and he but one,
Either in archboard or in hall,
He would overcome you everye one,
And if his beames they doe downe ffall"

"This is cold comfort" sais my Lord Haward,
"To wellcome a stranger thus to the sea;
I'll bring him and his shipp to shore,
Or else into Scottland hee shall carrye mee"

"Then you must gett a noble gunner, my lord,
That can sett well with his eye,
And sinke his pinnace into the sea,
And soone then overcome will hee bee.

"And when that you haue done this,
If you chance Sir Andrew for to bord,
Lett no man to his topcastle goe;
And I will giue you a glasse, my lord."

"And then you need to ffeare no  Scott,
Whether you sayle by day or by night;
And to-morrow, by seven of the clocke,
You shall meete with Sir Andrew Barton, Knight.

"I was his prisoner but yesternight,
And he hath taken mee sworne," quoth hee;
"I trust my Lord God will me fforgive
And if that oath then broken bee."

"You must lend me sixe peeces, my lord;" quoth hee
"Into my shipp, to sayle the sea,
And tomorrow, by nine of the clocke,
Your Honour againe then will I see."

And the hache-bord where Sir Andrew lay
Is hached with gold deerlye dight:
"Now by my ffaith;" sais Charles, my lord Haward
"Then yonder Scott is a worthye wight!"

"Take in your ancyents and your standards,
Yea that no man shall them see,
And put me fforth a white willow wand,
As merchants use to sayle the sea."

But they stirred neither top nor mast,
But Sir Andrew they passed by:
"Whatt English are yonder," said Sir Andrew
"That can so litle curtesye?"

"I have beene admirall over the sea
More then these yeeres three;
There is never an English dog, nor Portingall
Can passe this way without leave of me."

"But now yonder pedlers, they are past
Which is no litle greffe to me;
Ffeich them backe;" sayes Sir Andrew Barton
"They shall all hang att my maine-mast tree.

With that the pinnace itt shott of
That my Lord Haward might it well ken
Itt stroke downe my lords fforemast
And killed fourteen of my lord his men.

"Come hither, Simon!" sayes my lord Haward
"Looke that thy words be true thou sayed;
I'll hang thee att my main-mast tree
If thou misse thy marke past twelve pence bread.

Simon was old, but his hart itt was bold;
Hee tooke downe a peece, and layd itt ffull lowe
He put in chaine yeards nine,
Besids other great shott lesse and more.

With that hee lett his gun-shott goe;
Soe well hee settled itt with his eye,
The ffirst sight that Sir Andrew sawe,
Hee see his pinnace sunke in the sea.

When hee saw his pinnace sunke,
Lord! in his hart hee was not well:
"Cutt my ropes! itt is time to be gon!
I'le goe ffeitch yond pedlers backe my selfe!"

When my lord Haward saw Sir Andrew loose,
Lord! in his hart that hee was ffaine:
"Strike on your drummes!  spread out your ancyents
Sound out your trumpetts! sound out amaine!"

"Ffight on, my men!" sais Sir Andrew Bartton;
Weate,  howsoever this geere will sway,
Itt is my lord Admirall of England
Is come to seeke mee on the sea."

Simon had a sonne; with shott of a gunn-
Well Sir Andrew might itt ken-
He shott itt in att a priuye place,
And killed sixty more of Sir Andrews men.

Harry Hunt came in att the other syde,
And att Sir Andrew hee shott then;
He drove downe his fformast-tree,
And killed eighty more of Sir Andrews men.

"I have done a good turne," sayes Harry Hunt;
"Sir Andrew is not our kings ffriend;
He hoped to haue undone me yesternight,
But I hope I have quitt him well in the end."

"Ever alas!" sayd Sir Andrew Barton
"What shold a man either thinke or say?
Yonder ffalse theeffe is my strongest enemye
Who was my prisoner but yesterday.

"Come hither to me, thou Gourden good,
And be thou readye att my call,
And I will give thee three hundred pound
If thou wilt lett my beames down ffall"

With that hee swarved the maine-mast tree,
Soe did he itt with might and maine;
Horseley, with a bearing arrow,
Stroke the Gourden through the braine.

And he ffell into the haches againe,
And sore of this wound that he did bleed;
There word went through Sir Andrews men,
That the Gourden hee was dead.

"Comie hither to me, James Hambliton,
Thou are my sisters sonne, I have no more;
I will give thee six hundred pound
If thou will lett my beames downe ffall."

With that hee swarved the maine-mast tree,
Soe did hee itt with might and maine:
Horseley, with another broad arrow,
Strike the yeaman through the braine.

That hee ffell downe to the haches againe;
Sore of his wound that hee did bleed;
Covetousness getts no gaine,
Itt is verry true, as the Welchman sayd.

But when hee saw his sisters sonne slaine,
Lord! in his heart hee was not well:
"Goe ffeitch me downe my armour of prooffe,
For I will to the topcastle my-selfe.

"Goe ffeitch me downe my armour of prooffe,
For it is guilded with gold soe cleare;
God be with my brother, John of Bartton!
Amongst the Portingalls hee did itt weare."

But when hee had his armour of prooffe,
And on his body hee had itt on,
Every man that looked att him
Sayd, "Gunn nor arrow he neade feare none"

"Come hither, Horsley!" sayes my lord Haward,
"And looke your shaft that itt goe right;
Shoot a good shoote in the time of need,
And ffor thy shooting thoust be made a knight!"

"I'le doe my best," sayes Horsley then,
"Your Honor shall see beffore I goe;
If I shold be  hanged att your mainemast,
I have in my shipp but arrowes tow."

But att Sir Andrew hee shott then;
Hee mede sure to hitt his marke;
Vnder the spole of his right arme
Hee smote Sir Andrew quite through the hart.

Yett ffrom the tree hee wold not start,
But hee clinged to itt with might and maine;
Vnder the coller then of his jacke,
He stroke Sir Andrew thorrow the braine.

"Ffight on my men," sayes Sir Andrew Barton,
"I arm hurt, but I am not slaine;
I'le lay mee downe and bleed a-while,
And then I'le rise and ffight againe.

"Ffight on my men," sayes Sir Andrew Bartton
"These English doggs they bite soe lowe;
Ffight on ffor Scottland and Saint Andew
Till you heare my whistle blowe!"

But when they cold not heare his whistle blow,
Sayes Harry Hunt, "I'le lay my head
You may bord yonder noble shipp, my lord,
For I know Sir Andrew hee is dead."

With that they borded this noble shipp,
Soe did they itt with might and maine;
The ffound eighteen score Scotts alive,
Besids the rest were maimed and slaine.

My Lord Haward tooke a sword in his hand,
And smote off Sir Andrews head;
The Scotts stood by did weepe and mourne,
But never a word durst speake or say.

He caused his body to be taken downe,
And ouer the hatch-bord cast into the sea,
And about his middle three hundred crownes:
"Whersoever thou lands, it will bury thee."

With his head they sayled into England againe,
With right good will, and fforce and main,
And the day beffore Newyeeres even
Into Thames mouth they came againe.

My lord Haward wrote to King Heneryes grace,
With all the newes hee cold him bring:
"Such a Newyeeres gifft I have brought to your Grace
As neuer did subject to any king.

"Ffor merchandyes and manhood,
The like is nott to be ffound;
The sight of these wold doe you good,
Ffor you haue not the like in your English ground."

But when hee heard tell that they were come,
Full royally hee welcomed them home;
Sir Andrew's shipp was the kings Newyeeres guifft;
A braver shipp you never saw none.

Now hath our king Sir Andrews shipp,
Besett with pearles and precyous stones;
Now hath England two shipps of warr,
Two shipps of warr, before but one.

"Who holpe to this?" sayes King Henerye,
"That I may reward him ffor his paine:"
"Harry Hunt, and Peeter Simon,
William Horseleay, and I the same."

"Harry Hunt shall haue his whistle and chain
And all his jewells, whatsoever they be
And other rich giffts that I will not name
For his good service he hath done."

"Horslay, right thoust be a knight,
Lands and livings thou shalt have store
Haward shall be erle of Nottingham
And soe was never Haward before.

"Now, Peeter Simon, thou art old;
I will maintaine thee and thy sonne;
Thou shalt have five hundred pound all in gold
Ffor the good service that thou hast done."

Then King Henerye shiffted his roome
In came the Queene and ladyes bright;
Other arrands they had none
But to see Sir Andrew Bartton, Knight.

But when they see his deadly fface,
His eyes were hollow in his head;
"I wold give a hundred pound," sais King Henry
"The man were alive as hee is dead!

"Yett for the manfull part that hee hath playd
Both heere and beyond the sea,
His men shall have halfe a crowne a day
To bring them to my brother, King Jamye!"

Child #167
Child #250
From The Penguin Book of Folk Ballads, Friedman
Note: Child separates the two ballads Andrew Barton and Henry Martin, I
     can't see why. The intriguing (to me) feature of this older text is
     the secret weapon at the mast-top: probably incendiary devices that
     are hurled or catapulted onto an attacker.RG
Further note: DE suggests that the device was a gadgeet called a "dolphin":
     ...a simple weight on a stubby spar. (like a wrecking ball?) The beams
     mentioned might have been actual beams, bundled together into a crushing
     mass. The thing was used by swinging the spar over the enemy ("swarving"
     it, maybe?) and dropping the weight. If it hit it would fatally hole any
     normal vessel. (Notice Sir Andrew's mystery devoce is used by letting it
     fall.)
@sailor @pirate @battle @death
filename[ ANDBART
play.exe ANDBART
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANDREW CARR

        Hey, my Andrew, Andrew,
        How, my Andrew Carr,
        Hey, my Andrew, Andrew,
        How, my Andrew Carr,
     It's what care I for better, an' what care I for waur,
     An' what care I for better, gin I get Andrew Carr.
     ________________________________________________________

     Paul Past and Present of Aberdeenshire (1881), 157
     (no. 30).
     This is a version of a stanza quoted by Sir Walter Scott
     in a note on a song in Sharpe's Ballad Book (1823; ed.
     of 1880, p. 68):

          Hey for Andrew, Andrew,
          Hey for Andrew Car!
          He gaed to bed to the lass,
          And forgot to bar the door!

     Andrew Car is cunnin',
     And Andrew Car is slee,
     And Andrew Car is winnin',
     And Andrew Car for me!
        Sing hey for Andrew, &c.

     O it was Andrew Car,
     O it was him indeed;
     O it was Andrew Car,
     What gat my maidenhead.
        Sing hey for Andrew, &c.

     Scott's note (p. 138) has "And what care I for better,/
     And what care I for waur,/ And what care I for better,/
     Since I've got Andrew Car?"  He adds: "The Andrew Car of
     the ballad, or rather the Andrew Karr, is said to have
     been Karr of Kippilaw, a great Covenanter and commander
     in the civil wars."

An English version in Bell, Rhymes of Northern Bards (1812),
241: "As I went to Newcastle,/ My journey was not far,/ I met
with a sailor lad,/ Whose name was Andrew Carr.// And hey for
Andrew, Andrew," (etc.). [Words and music in Bruce and
Stokoe, Northumbrian Minstrelsy (1882), 179.]
Scott's identification conceivably takes the tune back to the
17th century; but I do not find it published in any old
Scottish collection, at least under this title (not in Glen
ESM, SDM).  It is however in the Cox MS. (c. 1830), 85 (9/8
jig), also Robertson Athole Coll. (1884), 138.  It appears to
be a set of Hey the Dusty Miller, q.v.

@Scots @kids
filename[ ANDRCAR
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANDREW MARTEEN

In bon-ey Scotland three brothers did dwell,
Three brothers did dwell, the three
And all did cast lots to see which of them
Would go robbing down on the salt sea.
And all did cast lots to see which of them
Would go robbing down on the salt sea.

The lots they fell on Andrew, fourteen,
The youngest of those brothers three,
That he should go robbing down on the salt sea
To maintain his two brothers and he.
  (repeat last 2 lines of each verse)

As he was a-sailing one fine summer's morning
Just as the day did appear,
He spied a large vessel a-sailing far off
And at last she came sailing quite near.
"Art thou, art thou?" cried Andrew Marteen,
"Art thou, a-sailing so high?"
"A rich merchant-ship from Old England's shores
And please will you let me pass by?"

"O no, O no," cried Andrew Marteen,
"It's a thing that can't very well be;
Your ship and your cargo I will take away,
And you body feed to the salt sea."

The news it went back to Old England's shore.
King Henry he wore the crown.
His ship and his cargo were all cast away
And his mariners they were all drowned.

"Come build me a boat," cried Captain Charles Stewart,
"And build it both safe and secure,
And if I don't bring in that Andrew Marteen,
My life I will never endure."
As he was a-sailing one fine summer's morning,
Just as the day did appear,
He spied a large vessel a-sailing far off,
And at length it came sailing quite near.

"Art thou, art thou?" cried Captain Charles Stewart,
"Art thou a-sailing so high?"
"A Scotch bone-y robber from Old Scotland's shore,
And it's please will you let me pass by?"

"O no, O no," cried Captain Charles Stewart,
"It's a thing that can't very well be;
Your ship and your cargo I will take away,
And your body feed to the salt sea."

"Fire on, fire on !" cried Andrew Marteen,
"Your talk I don't value one pin.
Your brass at your side makes a very fine show
But I'm pure steel within."
Broadside to broadside those two came together;
Their cannons like thunder did roar.
When Captain Charles Stewart took Andrew, fourteen,
And they hung him on Old England's shore.

From Ballads Migrant in New England, Harkness
Collected from Hanford Hayes, Staceyville, ME 1940
@pirate @outlaw @sailor @battle
filename[ HENRMRT2
play.exe HENRMRT2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANDREW ROSS (ANDREW ROSE)

Come all you seamen and give attention
And listen for a while to me
While I relate of a dreadful murder
Which happened on the briny sea

Andrew Ross*, an Orkney Sailor
Whose sufferings now I will explain
While on a voyage from Barbado
On board the vessel, Martha Jane

Oh think of what a cruel treatment
Without a friend to interpose
They whipped and mangled, gagged and strangled
The Orkney sailor, Andrew Ross

The mate and captain daily flogged him
With whips and ropes, I'll tell you true
While on Andrew Ross' bleeding body
Water mixed with salt they threw

For twenty days thus ill they used him
Oh think, what sorrow, grief and shame
Was suffered by this gallant sailor
On board the vessel Martha Jane

The captain trained his dogs to bite him
While Ross for mercy he did pray
And on the deck, his flesh in mouthfuls
Torn by the dogs they lay

Then in a water tank they put him
For twelve long hours they kept him there
While Ross for mercy he was pleading
The captain swore none should go near

The captain ordered him to swallow
A thing thereof I shall not name
The sailors all grew sick with horror
On board the vessel, Martha Jane

When nearly dean they did release him
And on the deck they did him fling
In the midst of pain and suffering
"Let us be joyful," Ross did say

The captain swore he'd make him sorry
He chained him with an iron bar
Was that not a cruel treatment
For an honest British tar

A timber hitch the captain ordered
All on a rope to be prepared
And Andrew Ross' bleeding body
Was then suspended in the air

Justice then did overtake them
Into Liverpool they came
And there found guilty of the murder
Committed on the briny ocean

Oh think of what were the captain's feelings
When both his mates they were released
To think that he alone should suffer
He could not for a while believe

"Oh God," he cries, "Is there no mercy
Must my poor wife and children dear
Be hounded out by public scorn
It nearly drives me to despair"

Soon after that an hour arrived
Captain Rodgers had to die
To satisfy offended justice
And hangs on yonder gallows high

I hope his fate will be a warning
To all such tyrants who may suppose
Who would treat an Orkney sailor
As what was done to Andrew Ross

Note: Rose rhymes better. The third verse was sometimes used
   as a chorus; first line of that verse sometiomes sung as:
   "Wasn't that most cruel usage?" RG  Tune from Oxford Book
    of Sea Songs, Palmer

@sailor @murder
recorded on Folk Songs of Britain Vol 6
filename[ ANDRROSS
play.exe ANDRROSS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANDY BARDAN

Three brothers in old Scotland did dwell,
Three loving brothers were they;
They all cast lots to see which of them
Should go robbing around the salt sea.

The lot fell on to Andy Bardan,
The youngest of the three,
For to maintain the other two
A-robbing around the salt sea.

He had not sailed very many long nights
Before a ship he did spy;
It sailed far off, it sailed far off,
And then it came sailing close by.

"Who's there, who's there?" said Andy Bardan,
"Who's there that sails so nigh?"
"We are the rich merchants from old England,
If no offense, let us pass by."

"Oh no! oh no!" said Andy Bardan,
"Oh no, that never can be!
Your ship and your cargo we'll have, my boys,
And your bodies sink in the salt sea."

The news came unto King Henry
(For it was him they crowned)
His ship and his cargo both were lost
And all his merry men drowned.

"Go build a ship both wide and deep
And build it safe and secure,
And if Andy Bardan you do not bring in
Your lives shall no longer endure."

They had not sailed very many long nights
Before a ship they did spy;
It sailed far off, it sailed far off,
And then it came sailing close by.

"Who's there? Who's there:" said Captain Charles Stewart,
"Who's there that sails so nigh?"
"We are the bold robbers from old Scotland;
If no offense, let us pass by."

"Oh no! oh no!" said Captain Charles Stewart,
"Oh no! that never can be;
Your ship and your cargo we'll have, my boys,
And your bodies sink in the salt sea."

"Peel on! peel on!" said Andy Bardan,
And loud the cannon did roar;
And Captain Charles Stewart took Andy Bardan
He took him to fair England's shore.

"What now, what now?" said Andy Bardan
"What now my fate it will be!
The gallows is ready for Andy Bardan
The bold robber around the salt sea.

"Go dig my grave both wide and deep,
And dig it close to the sea;
And tell my brothers as I pass by
I've done robbing around the salt sea."

Child #250
From The Penguin Book of Folk Ballads, Friedman
@pirate @outlaw @battle @death @sailor
filename[ HENRMRT3
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANDY'S GONE WITH CATTLE
(Harry Lawson)

Our Andy's gone with cattle now
Our hearts are out of order
With drought he's gone to battle now
Across the Queensland border

He's left us in dejection now
Our thoughts with him are roving
It's dull on this selection, now
Since Andy's went to droving

Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are blackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When fortune frowns her blackest?

And who shall cheat the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy crossed the Darling

Oh may the showers in tomorrow fall
And all the tanks run over
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover

And may good angels send the rain
In desert stretches sandy
And when the summer comes again
God grant it brings us Andy.

@Australia  @farm
Written by Henry Lawson
Sung by Martyn Wyndham-Read
filename[ ANDYCATL
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANGEL BAND
from the Sacred Harp tradition.

My latest sun is sinking fast, my race is nearly run.
My strongest trials now are past, my triumph is begun.

Chorus; Oh, come, Angel Band, come and around me stand.
        Oh bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home,
        Oh bear me away on your snowy wings to my immortal home.

I know I'm near the holy ranks of friends and kindred dear.
I brush the dew on Jordan's banks, the crossing must be near.

I've almost gained my heavenly home, my spirit loudly sings.
The holy ones, behold they come, I hear the noise of wings.

Oh bear my longing heart to him who bled and died for me.
Whose blood now cleanses from all sin, and gives me victory.

@religion
filename[ ANGLBAND
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANGELINA BAKER

cho: Angelina Baker, Angelina Baker
     Angelina Baker, Angelina Baker

Angelina baker lives on the village green
The way the i love her beats all to be seen

Angelina baker her age is 43
I gave her candy by the peck, but she won't marry me

She wont do the bakin', because she is too stout
She makes cookies by the peck and throws the coffe out

Thye last time i say her, it was at the county fair
Her daddy chased me halfway home and told me to stay there

Angelina taught me to weep, and she taught me to moan
Angelina taught me to weep and play on the old jawbone
filename[ ANGELINE
ED
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANGELS FROM THE REALMS OF GLORY

Angels from the realms of glory,
Wing your flight o'er all the earth
Ye who sang creations story,
Now proclaim messiah's birth

  Come and worship, come and worship,
  Worship Christ the new-born king

Shepherds in the field abiding,
Watching oe'r your flocks by night
God with man is now residing,
Yonder shines the infant light.

Sages leave your contemplations,
Brighter visions beam afar.
Seek the great desire of nations,
Ye have seen his natal star.
Saints before the altar bending,
Watching long in hope and fear
Suddenly the Lord descending
In his temple shall appear.

@religion  @Xmas      @seasonal
filename[ ANGGLORY
play.exe ANGGLORY
SS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANGELS WE HAVE HEARD ON HIGH

Angels we have heard on high,
Sweetly singing o'er the plains
And the mountains in reply
Echoing their joyous strains. Gloria...

cho: Gloria, In Excelsius Deo

Shepherd why this jubilee,
Why your joyous strains prolong
What the gladsome tidings be,
Which inspire your heavenly song?

Come to Bethlehem and see,
Him whose birth the angels sing
Come adore on bended knee,
Christ the Lord the newborn king.

See him in a manger laid,
Whom the choirs of angels praise
Mary, Joseph, lend your aid,
While our hearts in love we raise.

@religion  @Xmas      @seasonal
filename[ ANGONHI
play.exe ANGONHI
SS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANGUS HEMPSTEAD
(Grit Laskin)

A fair maid walking all in her garden
A crushing flower beds all the while
She just ignores the cobblestone pathway
Thinks I she'll be easy to beguile

So I stepped in view saying, "How do you do, ma'am?"
And may I ask your true love's name
O Angus Hempstead is my true love
Have you brought me news from the raging main

Well, if Angus Hempstead is your true love
Who for many long years has been out to sea
He has become a well known legend
And it's news of this I bring to thee

Twas while the wars were raging fiercely
Both sides decided to stop for tea
And thinking to catch some fish for supper
Bold Angus threw hook and line to sea

Now he hooked a shark that pulled him over
Unto the seabed dragged him down
The sunken ships there tore his body
But still our Angus refused to drown

Well they surfaced every twenty minutes
And as they did we caught a view
Of torn and mangled Angus Hempstead
Whose blood in profusion did spew

His long intestines hung beside him
His single arm, it had no hand
From where we stood, his neck looked broken
And from his mouth and nose fell lumps of sand

Now when this fair maid heard my story
Her stomach, it grew pale and sore
Somehow from this act I decided
She was loyal, so I said, Fair maid, feel sick no more

I am your true love, Angus Hempstead
Here is the ring you gave to me
Through thick and thin, through fair and foul
I've had this ring to remember thee

But a ring like that I've never owned, sir
Twas a coin twas broke twixt Angus and me
I think you are either terribly mistaken
Or somewhat twisted as I can see

So this couple never did get married
And soon to bed they did not go
They never lived in a country cottage
And of her cuckoo's nest, he'll never know

@parody @humor
filename[ ANGUSHEM
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANN O' HETHERSGILL

The fairest maids o' Britain's Isle
'Mang Cumbria's mountains dwells
Sweet budding flowers unseen
They bloom by moorland, glen, or fell
And yen, the fairest of them all
My heart could ne'er be still
To see her at the kirk or fair
Sweet Ann O' Hethersgill

Her face was like the blushing rose
Her heart was light and free
E'er she had felt the whole world's cares
Or love blinked in her eye
This fair bewitching face of love
The hardest heart would fill
The flower of all the countryside
Sweet Ann O' Hethersgill
Her cheerful wrought her war-day work
Then sat down at her wheel
And song o' love the winter's neets
E'er she its power did feel
And at the kirk on Sunday morns
None sang so sweet and shrill
The charming voice abune them all
Was Ann O' Hethersgill

But she saw Jock the Carel fair
She nae mair was hersel'
She couldna sing while at her wheel
And sighed oft down the dell
Jock is the laird of Souter muir
He's now come o'er the hill
And ta'en away his bonnie bride
Sweet Ann O' Hethersgill

@English @courting
tune is Jock o' Hazeldine
printed in Cumbrian Songs and Ballads by Keith Gregson
tune JOCKHZLD
filename[ ANNOHETH
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANNA THEA

   Am
Lazma Thea stole a stallion
      Dm           Am
Stole him from the misty mountains
Dm                  Am
And they chased him and they found him
    G   Bm  Dm
And in iron chains they bound him

Word was sent to Anna Thea
That her brother was in prison
Bring me gold and six fine horses
I will buy my brother's freedom

Judge, o judge, please spare my brother
Do not hang him from the gallows
I don't want your gold and silver
All I want are your sweet favors

Anna Thea, o my sister,
are you mad with grief and sorrow
He will rob you of your flower
And he'll hang me on the gallows

Anna Thea did not heed him
Straightway to the judge went running
In his golden bed at midnight
There she heard the gallows groaning

Cursed be the judge so cruel
Thirteen years may he lie bleeding
Thirteen doctors cannot cure him
Thirteen shelves of drugs not heal him

Anna Thea, Anna Thea
Do not go into the forest
There beneath the green trees standing
You will find your brother hanging

@ballad @outlaw @death
recorded on Judy Collins/3
filename[ ANNATHEA
play.exe ANNATHEA
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANNACHIE GORDON

Buchan is bonnie and there lives my love
My heart it lies on him, it will not remove
It will not remove for all that I have done
O never will I forget my love, Annachie
For Annachie Gordon, he's Bonnie and he's braw
He'd entice any woman that ever him saw
He'd entice any woman, and so he has done me
O never will I forget my love, Annachie

Down came her father and he's standing on the floor
Saying, Jeannie, you're trying the tricks of a whore
You care nothing for a man who cares so very much for thee
You must marry with Lord Solton and leave young Annachie
For Annachie Gordon, he's only but a man
And although he may be pretty, but where are all his lands
Soltan's lands are broad and his towers they stand high
You must marry with Lord Soltan and forget young Annachie
With Annachie Gordon, I'd beg for my bread
Before that I'd marry Soltan with gold to my head
With gold to my head and gowns fringed to the knee
O I'll die if I don't get my love, Annachie
And you who are my parents to the church you may me bring
But unto Lord Soltan, I'll never bear a son
O a son or a daughter, I'll never bow my knee
I'll die if I don't get my love, Annachie

When Jeannie was married and from the church she was brought home
And she and her maidens so merry should have been
When she and her maidens so merry should have been
O she's gone to her chamber and she's crying all alone
Come to bed now Jeannie, my honey and my sweet
For to style you my mistress, it would not be meet
O, it's Mistress or Jeannie, it's all the same to me
For it's in your bed, Lord Soltan, I never shall be

And up and spoke her father and he's spoken with renowned
All you who are her maidens, won't you loosen off her gown
But she fell down in a swoon, o so low down by their knees
Saying, Look on, for I'm dying for my love, Annachie
The day that Jeannie married was the day that Jeannie died
That's the day that young Annachie came rolling home from the tide
And down came her maidens and they're wringing of their hands
Saying, woe to you Annachie, for staying from the sands

So long from the land and so long upon the flood
O they've married your Jeannie and now she is dead
All you that were her maidens, won't you take me by the hand
And won't you lead me to the chamber that my love lies in
And he kissed her cold lips until his heart turned to stone
And he's died in the chamber where his true love lay in

Child #239
@ballad @love @death
recorded by Cindy Mangsen and Nic Jones on Noah's Arc Trap
filename[ ANGORDON
play.exe ANGORDON
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANNE BOLEYN
(R.L. Weston and Bert Lee.)

   In the Tower of London, large as life,
   The ghost of Anne Boleyn walks, they declare.
   For Anne Boleyn was once King Henry's wife,
   Until he had the headsman bob her hair.
   Oh, yes, he did her wrong long years ago,
   And she comes back at night to tell him so.

   Chorus:
   With her 'ead tucked underneath her arm,
   She walks the bloody Tower,
   With her head tucked underneath her arm,
   At the midnight hour.

   She comes to haunt King Henry, she means giving him what-for
   Gadzooks, she's going to tell him off, for spilling of her gore.
   And just in case the headsman wants to give her encore,
   She has her head tucked underneath her arm.

   Now sometimes gay King Henry gives a spread,
   For all his pals and gals, a ghastly crew,
   The 'eadsman carve the joint and cuts the bread,
   When in comes Anne Boleyn to queer the do.
   She holds her head up with a wild war whoop,
   And Henry cries, "don't drop it in the soup!"

   She walks the endless corridors, for miles and miles she goes,
   She often catches cold, poor dear, it's drafty when it blows,
   And it's awfully, awfully awkward for the queen to blow her nose,
   With her head tucked underneath her arm.

   The sentries think that it's a football that she carries in,
   And when they've had a few they shout, "Is Army going to win?"
   They  think  that  it's Red Grange instead of poor old Anne Boleyn
   With her head tucked underneath her arm.

   One night she caught King Henry, he was in the canteen bar,
   He said, "Are you Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn, or Catherine Parr?
   Well, how <do you expect me to know who in Hell you> are?
   With your head tucked underneath your arm?

Recorded in the early 30s by, of all people, Rudy Vallee; also
(later, I think) by Stanley Holloway. RG
   Note: Henry VIII only beheaded two of his wives -
Anne Boleyn and Kate Howard.  Remember : divorced
(Katherine of Aragon), beheaded(Anne B), died (Jane
Seymour); divorced (Anne of Cleves), beheaded (Kate
Howard), survived(Kate Parr).   (SF)

<There seems to be some disagreement on exact wording here. Any authorities?>

 "The guards all think that it's a football that she carries in
 And when they've had a few, they shout "Is Arsenal going to win?"
 They think that it's Alec James instead of poor old Anne Boleyn etc."

and
"for how the sweet san fairy ann do I know who you are"

(a later addition)
The sentries think that Anee is hauling 'round a rugby ball;
When dinner's done they'll push the chairs and tables to the wall
And then the'll choose up sides and kick the Queen around the hall!
With 'er 'ead tucked underneath 'er arm!

@death @history @humor
filename[ ANNEBOL
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANNE COOPER HEWITT
(Gene Fowler)

I'm only a sterilized heiress,
A butt for the laughter of rubes,
I'm comely and rich
But a venomous bitch-
My mother ran off with my tubes.

Oh, fie on you, mother, you bastard,
Come back with my feminine toys,
Restore my abdomen,
And  make me a woman,
I want to go out with the boys.

Imagine my stark consternation,
At feeling a surgeon's rude hands
Exploring my person,
(Page Aimee McPherson)
And then rudely snatching my glands.

Oh, fie on you, medical monsters,
How could you so handle my charms?
My bosom is sinking,
My clitoris shrinking-
I need a strong man in my arms.

The butler and second-man snub me
No more will they use my door key-
The cook from Samoa
Has spermatozoa
For others, but never for me.

Oh, fie on you, fickle men servants!
With your strong predilection to whore
Who cares for paternity,
Forgive my infirmity-
Can't a girl just be fun any more?

What ruling in court can repay me,
For losing my peas-in-the-pod?
My joyous fecundity,
Turned to morbundity,
Like Pickford, I'll have to try God.

Oh, fie on you, courthouse and ruling
I want my twin bubbles of jest,
Take away my hot flashes
And menopause rashes,
And let me feel weight on my chest.

Note: There was a considerable scandal back in 193? or so, when
Ann Cooper Hewitt sued her mother for having had her sterilized,
to block an inheritance that was contigent upon her producing
heirs. RG
@doctor @bawdy
filename[ ACHEWITT
play.exe ACHEWITT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANNIE BREEN

Come all you men of Arkansas, a tale to you I'll sing
Of Annie Breen, from old Kaintuck, who made the forest ring.
A sweeter girl and sweeter voice, no man did ever know,
And well she loved a straight-limbed lad whose name was Texas Joe.

To meetin' she and Joey went, and oh, her eyes did shine
To see him full of manly strength, so clear and tall and fine!
To be his wife and helping hand she wanted as her fate,
But sad the story that befell as now I will relate.

One morn when birds were singin' an' the lilacs were abloom
There came unto the little town and there he took a room
A evil-hearted city man who said he'd made his stake,
And then it was that the serpent in old Paradise did wake.

At meetin' after prayers were said, sweet Ann sang clear and fine
The stranger said upon his knees, "That girl she must be mine!"
So arm in arm they both walked home and wandered up and down
Which caused the  neighbors, who loved Ann, to shake their heads
     and frown.

He entered in and brought a stain on Annie Breen's fair life
He told her that he loved the girl, would take her for his wife.
When Joe got wind how matters stood, his heart was like a stone
With ne'er a word of parting he went off to Texas alone,

Before a year in a shallow grave lay Annie and her child,
And when the tidings reached brave Joe's ears that lad went
     almost wild.
He saddled up and cantered hard, and rode both long and fast
And in Fort Smith he found the man who'd ruined Ann at last.

Then words were spoke and shots were fired and Joe fell on the floor.
He said, "In spite of all that's been I love my Ann the more."
His face was white as driven snow, his breath came gasping low
He said, "My soul is clean, and to my Maker it must go."

Before he closed his dimming eye he said, "My work's not done
And turning on his aching side he drew his faithful gun.
You've done your  mischief, stranger,  but from life you've got
     to part
His finger pressed the trigger, and he shot him through the
     heart.

From Frontier Ballads, Finger
Note: According to Charles Finger, "Affect a sort of nasal
     tone...Blush, if possible, at the fifth stanza and let the
     blush spread and deepen until the middle of the sixth."
@cowboy @infidelity @fight @death
filename[ ANNBREEN
play.exe ANNBREEN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANNIE LAURIE

Maxwellton's braes are bonnie,
Where early fa's the dew,
And it's there that Annie Laurie
Gave me her promise true
Gave me her promise true,
Which ne'er forgot will be,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me doon and dee.

Her brow is like the snowdrift,
Her throat is like the swan,
Her face is the fairest
That e'er the sun shone on.
That e'er the sun shone on,
And dark blue is her e'e,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie,
I'd lay me doon and dee.
Like dew on the gowan lying
Is the fa' o' her fairy feet.
And like winds in the summer sighing,
Her voice is low and sweet.
Her voice is low and sweet,
And she's a' the world to me,
And for bonnie Annie Laurie,
I'd lay me doon and dee.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The original poem was written by William Douglas of England,
1685, who was in love with Annie Laurie, the beautiful daughter
of Sir Robert Laurie, first baronet of Maxwellton.  The song with
the version of the poem used here was published in 1838.  It was
immensely popular with the British troops during the Crimean War.

@love @Scots
recorded by Deller Consort on Westron Wind
filename[ ANNLAURI
play.exe ANNLAURI
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANOTHER DAY IN THE LIFE

I got my grades today, oh, boy.
I never saw so many F's before.
And now my cum is rather low.
But I just cannot laugh
'Cause I just felt a draft.

I've got to study soon, I know
But there are many other things to do.
And physics doesn't turn me on.
But learning has its place
If you feed your head with chemistry
Knowledge can expand your mind
I'd love to tool, tool, tool.

Woke up, fell out of bed
Not much sleep, my eyes are red
Got my Commons meal, I ate it quick
And feeling sick, I noticed I was late.

Grabbed my coat, forgot my book,
Hurried on, no time to look,
Went to class, and started taking notes
Professor spoke, and I fell into a sleep.

I took a quiz today, oh, boy.
How many blades of grass are on Brigg's Field?
And though my answer was too low,
It's always good to know
There are forty million, seven thousand,
Sixty-nine point 0.
I love to tool, tool, tool.

@school @parody
filename[ DAYINLIF
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANOTHER LULLABY

Close your eyes, my pretty child,
Though the night is dark and the wind is wild.
I will stand beside your bed
Tonight there is nothing you need fear or dread.
You can sleep now, go to sleep,
The rain falls and the windows weep.
I'm standing by to sing a lullaby.

Close your eyes, my sister fair,
Though the snow is falling and the trees are bare.
And I will hold you by the hand
Tonight there is nothing you need try to understand.
You can sleep now, go to sleep,
The daytime's dying and the nighttime's so deep.
I'm standing by to sing a lullaby.

Close your eyes, my mother wise,
When the waves are angry and the north train cries.
I stop those ghosts outside your door
Momma don't worry 'bout those ghosts no more.
You can sleep now, go to sleep,
Tomorrow comes but it will keep.
I'm standing by to sing a lullaby.

@lullaby
filename[ SINGLULL
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ANY DAY NOW
(Bob Dylan)

They say everything can be replaced,
That every distance is not near,
So I remember every face,
Of every man who's put me here.

cho: I see my light come shining,
     From the west unto the east.
     Any day now, any way now,
     I shall be released.

They say every man needs protection,
That every man must rise and fall.
Yet I swear I see my reflection,
Somewhere so high above this wall.

Yonder stands a man in this lonely crowd,
A man who swears he's not to blame.
All day long I hear him shouting so loud,
He's crying out that he was framed.

Any day now, any way now,
     I shall be released.

Copyright Warner Brothers
filename[ ANYDAYNO
SP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
APPALACHIAN MOUNTAIN BOOGIE BLUES
(Mike Cross)

Well there's somethin' in my mountain blood that makes me wanna dance
I got to kick my heels up; I'll go crazy if I can't
Now maybe it's the moonshine and maybe it's the night
But all I know is here I go 'cause I'm feelin' all right

I got these Appalachian Mountain Boogie Blues
Well, sometimes I wear the soles right off my shoes
Be careful 'cause you just might get 'em too
These Appalachian Mountain Boogie; got to boogie Blues

Well, I was born in a little town in eastern Tennessee
As fine a place in this ol' world as you are gonna see
Now the folks up there work hard all day from sunrise till sundown
But you can bet your boots they sure cut loose when the evenin' comes aroun'

Cause they get them Appalachian Mountain Boogie Blues
Sometimes they wear the soles right off their shoes
Be careful 'cause you just might get 'em too
These Appalachian Mountain Boogie; got to boogie Blues

Well there's somethin' in my mountain blood that makes me wanna dance
I got to kick my heels up; I'll go crazy if I can't
Now maybe it's the moonshine and maybe it's the night
But all I know is here I go 'cause I'm feelin' all right

I got these Appalachian Mountain Boogie Blues
Well, sometimes I wear the soles right off my shoes
Be careful 'cause you just might get 'em too
These Appalachian Mountain Boogie; got to boogie Blues

copyright Mike Cross
filename[ APPALACH
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
APPLE COMPUTER
(Stan Kelly-Bootes)

I gave my love an Apple that had no core
I gave my love a building that had no floor
I wrote my love a program that had no end
I gave my love an upgrade with no cry-en.

How can there be an Apple that has no core?
How can there be a building that has no floor?
How can there be a program that has no end?
How can there be an upgrade with no cry-en?

An Apple MOS memory don't use no core
A building that's perfect, it has no flaw
A program with GOTOs, it has no end
I lied about the upgrade with no cry-en.

@computer @parody
see also RIDDLE
filename[ APPLCOMP
play.exe RIDDLSNG
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
APPLE PICKER'S REEL
(Larry Hanks)

Hey, ho, makes you feel so fine
Looking out across the orchard in the bright sunshine.
Hey, ho, you feel so free
Standing in the top of an apple tree.

Up in the morning before the sun
I don't get home until the day is done;
My pick-sack's heavy and my shoulder's sore
But I'll be back tomorrow to pick some more.

Start at the bottom and you pick 'em from the ground
And you pick the tree clean all the way around;
Then you set up your ladder and you climb up high
And you're looking through the leaves at the clear blue sky.

Three-legged ladder, wobbly as hell
Reaching for an apple---whoa!---I almost fell.
Got a twenty-pound sack hanging 'round my neck
And there's three more apples that I can't quite get.

Hey, ho, makes you feel so down
Picking up windfalls, crawling on the ground.
Hey, ho, you feel so free
Standing in the top of an apple tree.

Hey, ho, you lose your mind
If you sing this song about a hundred times;
Hey, ho, you feel so free
Standing in the top of an apple tree.

Copyright Larry Hanks
@work @farm
filename[ APPLPICK
play.exe APPLPICK
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
APPLE TREE WASSAIL

Oh aplle tree, we'll wassail thee
And hoping thou wilt bear
For the Lord does know where we may go
To be merry another year

To grow well and to bear well
And so merrily let us be
Let every man drink up his glass
And a health to the old apple tree
Brave boys, and a helath to the old apple tree

@seasonal @wassail @drink @tree
recorded on Nowell Sing We Clear
filename[ WASSAPPL
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
APPRENTICE SONG
by Ian Campbell

Come on lad and bring your tool bag
Keep your eyes peeled, use your head
Fetch your footprints, spanners, chisels
From now on they'll earn your bread
Keep your eyes on the older fitters
They're the boys who know their stuff
One day you will do their job
If you're smart and keen enough

Come on boy and take your place
Among the men who serve the trade
Scalers, cokers, valvesmen, stokers
This is where the gas is made
Keep your eye on old Fairweather
Mind your gauge, you're on the town
Turn her out bang on four fifty
Or else you'll let the housewife down

Wake up, son, and mind your setting
B-range is the one to watch
Number three is due for scaling
See she don't get too much ash
Mind your eye with that red hot poker
Read your heat and see she's right
Leave your range in decent order
For the lads on shift tonight

@work @industry
recorded by Ian Campbell Folk Group
filename[ APPREN
play.exe APPREN
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
APRIL, COME SHE WILL
(Paul Simon)

April, come she will.
When streams are ripe and
Swelled with rain.
May she will stay
Resting in my arms again.
June she'll change her tune
In restless walks she'll prowl the night.
July she will fly
And give no warning to her flight.
August die she must,
The autumn winds blow chilly and cold;
September I'll remember,
A love once new has now grown old.

Copyright Paul Simon
@seasonal
filename[ APRILCOM
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AQABA
(Bill Caddick)

A man, lost in time and space, adrift in his dreaming
While like an Arab steed the motorcycle flying on
Past the English fields, the misty morning hedgerow
The wind in the wire weeds, the warm sirocco sighing


Ch:     Aqaba, all my life turns on you
        All my life returns to you

Out of the silent wastes, no friends, no quarter
The blood is up, the senses race, the last dawn is breaking
And over the sleeping host, the unsuspecting shadows
Grim as a desert ghost to the pale ride awaiting

Now your eyes are turned from me, I shall surprise you
Turn your faces to the sea, I shall come riding
Down from the desert sands that glorious morning
Oh what a deadly dance drummed out of hiding

The puppies bobbing on the tide, the blood in the sand dunes
The sun dying in the sky, the black shades falling
Over the dead of night, the church bells tolling
The owl in his silent flight, the desert wind calling

recorded by June Tabor on "Aqaba" (1989)

A song about Lawrence of Arabia, who died some years later in
a motorcycle accident in England

@WWI @war @battle @history
filename[ AQABA
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AR FA LA LA LOW

There's lilt in this song I sing, there's laughter and love
There's song of the sea so blue and heaven above
Of reason there's none, no, and why should there be for why
As long as there fire in the blood and a light in the eye

Ar fal la low ha row ere fal la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Ar far la low ha row ere fal la la le
Fa le fa low ha row ere fal la la le

The heather's ablaze with moon, the myrtle so sweet
There's a song in the air, the road a song at our feet
So step it along as light as a bird on the wing
And while we are stepping we' join our voices and sing

Ar fal la low, etc.

And whether the blood be high, lowland or no
and whether the skin be black or white as the snow
Of kith and of kin we are one be it right be it wrong
As long as our voices join the chorus of song

Ar fal la low, etc.

@music
filename[ FALALOW
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARAGON MILL
(Si Kahn)

Chorus: And the only tune I hear,
        Is the sound of the wind,
        As it blows through the town,
        Weave and spin, weave and spin

1. At the east end of town, at the foot of the hill
   Stands a chimney so tall that says "Aragon Mill."
   But there's no smoke at all coming out of the stack.
   The mill has shut down and it ain't a-coming back.

2. Well, I'm too old to work, and I'm too young to die.
   Tell me, where shall we go, My old gal and I?
   There's no children at all in the narrow empty street.
   The mill has closed down; it's so quiet I can't sleep.

3. Yes, the mill has shut down; it's the only life I know
   Tell me, where will I go, Tell me, where will I go?
   And the only tune I hear, is the sound of the wind
   As it blows through the town,
   Weave and spin, weave and spin.

Copyright Joe Hill Music
@mill @work @age   @industry
recorded by Bok Trickett and Muir on Water over Stone
filename[ ARAGONML
play.exe ARAGONML
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARAN'S LONELY HOME

If you that has your liberty
I pray you will draw near
A sad and dismal story
I mean to let you hear
While in a distant country
I languish sigh and moan
While I think of the days I spent
In Aran's lonely home

When I was young and in my prime
My age being twenty-one
I had become a servant
Unto a gentleman
I served him true an honest life
And very well 'tis known
But with cruelty he banished me
From Aran's lonely home
The reason why he banished me
I mean to let you know
'Tis true I loved his daughter
She loved me dear also
And she had got a fortune
Her riches I had known
And that is why he banished me
From Aran's lonely home

It was in her father's garden
All in the month of June
A-growing were those flowers
All in their youthful bloom
She said my dearest William
Along with me you may roam
And we'll bid adieu to all our friends
In Aran's lonely home

Unto my sad misfortune
Which proved my overthrow
That very night I gave consent
Along with her to go
The night being bright in moonlight
As we set out alone
A-thinking we might get away
From Aran's lonely home

But when we arrived at Belfast
Just at the break of day
My true love says she'll ready get
Our passage for to pay
Five thousand pounds she counted out
Saying this shall be your own
You will never fret for those you left
In Aran's lonely home

Unto my sad misfortune
Which you shall quickly hear
It was a few hours after
Her father did appear
He marched me away to Omas
In the County of Tyrone
It was there I got transported
From Aran's lonely home.

When I received my sentence
It grieved my heart full sore.
But the parting with my true love
It grieved me ten times more.
And when I think upon my chain
And every link a year
Before I can return again
To the arms of my dear.

From Songs the Whalemen Sang, Huntington
Collected from the journal of Catalpa, 1856.
Note: (Huntington) The proper name of this song is "Erin's
  Lovely Home", and how t got changed in the Catalpa journal is
  anybody's guess.
@Irish @transport
filename[ ARANHOME
play.exe ARANHOME
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARD TACK

1.  I'm a shearer, yes I am, and I've shorn 'em sheep and lamb
    From the Wimmera to the Darling Downs and back,
    And I've rung a shed or two where the fleece was tough as glue
    But I'll tell you where I struck the 'ardest tac.

2.  I was down round Yenda way, killing time from day to day
    Till the big sheds started moving further out
    When I struck a bloke by chance that I summed up in a glance
    As a cocky from a vineyard round about.

3.  Now it seems he picked me too;  well, it wasn't hard to do
    'Cause I had some tongs a-hangin' at the hip,
    "I got a mob,"he said, "A mob about two hundred head
    And I'll give a ten pun note to have the clip."

4.  I says, "Right, I'll take the stand" - it meant gettin' in me hand
    And by nine o'clock we'd rounded up the mob
    In a shed sunk in the ground - yeah, with wine casks all around
    And that was where I started on me job.

5.  I goes easy for a bit while me hand was gettin' fit
    And by dinner-time I'd done some half a score
    With the cocky pickin' up and handing me a cup
    Of pinky after every sheep I shore.

6.  The cocky had to go away about the seventh day
    After showing me the kind of cask to use
    Then I'd do the picking up and manipulate the cup
    Strolling round them wine casks, just to pick and choose.

7.  Then I'd stagger to the pen, grab a sheep and start again
    With a noise between a hiccup and a sob
    And sometimes I'd fall asleep with me arms around the sheep
    Worn and weary from me over-arduous job.

8.  And so six weeks went by, until one day with a sigh
    I pushed the dear old cobbler through the door
    Gathered in the cocky's pay then staggered on me way
    From the hardest bloody shed I ever shore.

"Recorded at the home of Mr. Jack Davies, a pioneer soldier-settler
     of the Leeton District, on the Murrumbidgee, N.S.W.  Mr.
     Davies says he didn't write "Ard Tac", but adds, "I distinctly
     remember being sober the day it was written." (Lahey). Tune heard
     from Mike Eves, Sydney FC, 1971.

@Australia @sheep @work
filename[ ARDTACK
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARE YOU DRINKING WITH ME, JESUS?
(Peter Berryman)

Do you nestle by my barstool
Makin' me so calm within
Have you touched me with your warmness
Or have I touched myself with gin?

cho:  Are you drinkin' with me Jesus
      I can't see you very clear
      If you're drinkin' with me Jesus
      Won't you buy a friend a beer?

If you're omnipresent, Jesus
You don't have to use the phone
If you're always by my side, Lord
You need never drink alone

Do you teeter with me, Jesus
On my way home so forlorn
If you think that you feel bad now
Wait until tomorrow morn

Does your head pound with the masses
As hungover you do rise
What does heaven look like, Jesus
Seen through holy bloodshot eyes

Should we take a taxi, Jesus
Should we try to walk from here
I know you can walk on water
Can you walk on this much beer?

Copyright Lou & Peter Berryman
@drink @religion
filename[ DRNK_JES
play.exe DRNK_JES
HB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ARKANSAS BOYS

Come all you Missouri gals an' listen to my noise,
Mind how you marry them Arkansas boys;
For if you do your portion it will be,
Cold johnnycake an' venison is all you will sce.

They will lead you out in them blackjack hills,
There so much against your will;
Leave you there for to perish on the place,
For that's the way of the Arkansas race.

Sandstone chimney an'a batten door,
Clapboard roof an'a puncheon floor;
Some gets a little an'some gets none,
An' that's the way of the Arkansas run.

When they go to meetin'the clothes they wear
Is a old brown coat all tore an' bare,
A old white hat without no crown,
An' old blue duckins the whole year round.

From Ozark Folksongs, Randolph

Note: This song appeared in sheet music in  1841  under the title "Free
Nigger", published by Firth and Hall, as sung by R. W. Pelhaae, but without
author/composer credits. The initial stanza there is:

Come all you Virginia gals and listen to my noise,
Neber do you wed wid de Carolina boys,
For if dat you do your portion it will be
Corn cake and harmony [?hominy] and Jango Lango tea.
@courting
filename[ WHNCORT2
play.exe WHNCORT2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARKANSAS HARD LUCK BLUES
(Lonnie Glossom)

Now, folks, I'm gonna tell you a little something about myself
You know, I come from down in Arkansas.
I live down there on a little farm where the land is so poor
You have to put fertilizer around the telephone poles
Before you can talk over the wires.
But,  nevertheless,  it's a fine place to be from,  folks.

You know, I was born down there in Arkansas.
Yeah, and I can remember the first day I was born, too.
There was three of us kids -
We was all laying side by side on the bed -
I heard the door slam and the old man he come in.
He walked up to the bed and he just taken one look at us
He hollered to my maw - she was in the kitchen gettin'dinner -
He says, "All right,  Lize",
Says,  "Come on in here",  Says,  "Pick out the one you want",
And says,  "We'll drown the rest of em."

You know, folks, there was just seventeen of us kids.
There was eight boys, seven girls, and two other children.
You know, I had but a little age on me
When the old man said:
"Son,  you gonna have to get out and make your own livin' from now on"
He says,  "I'm tired of feedin' you around this place. "

Well, I struck out,  folks,
And here's what happened ever since;
You know, I been bawled out and bawled up,
Held down and held up,
Bulldogged, blackjacked, walked on and chewed,
Squeezed and mooched for war tax,
Excess profits,  state,  dog and sin tax,
Liberty bonds and baby bonds
And the bonds of matrimony.

I've been red crossed,  green crossed and double crossed,  folks,
I've been asked to help the society of John the Baptist,
The G. A. R.  Women's corpse, Men's Kiwanis and relief corpse,
I've worked like heck and been worked like heck,  foIks,
I've been drunk and got others drunk,
Lost all I had and part of my furniture.

Because I won't go around now and spend what I earned,
And go  beg, borrow and steal,
I've been cussed and discussed,
Boycotted,  talked to and talked about,
Held up and hung up,
And I'm doggoned nigh ruined.
The only reason I'm sticking around now, folks
Is to see what the heck is a-gonna happen next.

Now folks, if that isn't hard luck, just tell me what is

@talking @blues @poverty @depression
filename[ ARKLUCK
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARKANSAS TRAVELER

     D        G        D
Oh, once upon a time in Arkansas
      A7          D      E7       A7
An old man sat in his little cabin door
     D       G      D
And fiddled at a tune that he liked to hear
           G          A7      D
A jolly old tune that he played by ear.


     D    A7         D          A7
It was raining hard but the fiddler didn't care
     D    A7   D    A7
He sawed away at the popular air
             D      A7         D      A7
Though his roof tree leaked like a water fall
     D            G       A7  D
That didn't seem to bother the man at all.

A traveler was riding by that day
And stopped to hear him practicing away
The cabin was afloat and his feet were wet
But still the old man didn't seem to fret.

So the stranger said
"Now the way it seems to me
You'd better mend your roof," said he
But the old man said, as he played away
"I couldn't mend it now, it's a rainy day."

The traveler replied: "That's all quite true
But this, I think, is the thing for you to do
Get busy on a day that is fair and bright
Then patch the old roof 'til it's good and tight."

But the old man kept on a-playing at his reel
And tapped the ground with his leathery heel
"Get along," said he, "for you give me a pain
My cabin never leaks when it doesn't rain."

Note: words are considerably more recent than minstrel-show
     Q&A dialog. RG
@fiddle @music
filename[ ARKTRAV
BJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARKANSAS TRAVELER

Oh once upon a time in Arkansas
An old man sat in his little cabin door,
And fiddled at a tune that he liked to hear,
A jolly old tune that he played by ear.
It was raining hard but the fiddler didn't care
He sawed away at the popular air,
Though his roof tree leaked like a water fall
That didn't seem to bother than man at all

A traveler was riding by that day,
And stopped to hear him a-practicing away
The cabin was afloat and his feet were wet,
But still the old man didn't seem to fret.
So the stranger said: "Now the way it seems to me,
You'd better men your roof," said he.
But the old man said, as he played away:
"I couldn't mend it now, it's a rainy day."
The traveler replied: "That's all quite true,
But this, I think, is the thing for you to do;
Get busy on a day that is fair and bright,

Then pitch the old roof till it's good and tight."
But the old man kept on a-playing at his reel,
And tapped the ground with his leathery heel:
"Get along," said he, "for you give me a pain;
My cabin never leaks when it doesn't rain."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The play "The Arkansas Traveler" was a favorite attraction in
Salem, Ohio, in the 1850's.  It tells of a travel's experience
with an Arkansas squatter whom he finds sitting in his cabin
playing away at a tune which he has heard for the first time on a
trip to New Orleans.  The entire play revolves around this tune
and the squatter's effort to remember the ending of it.

@humor
filename[ ARKSTRAV
play.exe ARKSTRAV
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARKY'S TOAST

We'll drink to the down fall of tyrants;
We'll drink to Christ the Lord,
We'll drink to the twelve Apostles,
Who preached his holy word.
We'll drink to the saints and martyrs,
In the dismal days of yore.
And whenever our glasses are empty,
We'll remember one saint more.
And whenever our glasses are empty,
We'll remember one saint more.

We'll drink to the king, me boys,
We'll drink a health to the queen,
And all the royal family,
Wherever they are seen.
We'll drink to the Dukes and Duchesses,
And all their loyal men.
And whenever our glasses are empty,
We will fill them up again.
And whenever our glasses are empty,
We will fill them up again.

We'll drink a heath to the ladies,
We'll drink to all their charms,
We'll drink to all the pleasures that we find,
When we are in their arms.
We'll hold them very tight, me boys,
But we'll make it clear.
It's good-by on the day that they say,
They will keep us from our beer.
It's good-by on the day that they say,
They will keep us from our beer.

We'll drink a health to the landlord,
Of this Harvest feast,
We'll raise our glasses high, me boys,
To the strength of malt and yeast.
We'll drink a health to the landlord,
With his ale strong and fine.
And we're hoping that he'll forget to shout,
When it comes to closing time.
And we're hoping that he'll forget to shout,
When it comes to closing time.

We'll drink to John O'Gaunt, me boys,
We'll drink to Jinkey Wells.
We'll drink to William Kimber,
Who was buried in his bells.
We'll drink to all the Morris folk,
Wherever they may be.
And we're hoping that they dance as well,
When they're half as drunk as we.
And we're hoping that they dance as well,
When they're half as drunk as we.

@drink @dance
filename[ ARKYTOST
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ARMY BEAN

There's a spot that the soldiers all love
The mess tent's the place that we mean,
And the dish that we like best to see
Is the old-fashioned white army bean.

cho: 'Tis the bean that we mean
     And we'll eat as we ne'er ate before;
     The army bean, nice and clean
     We'll stick to our beans evermore.

Now the bean in its primitive state
Is a plant we have all often met;
And when cooked in the old army style,
It has charms we can never forget.

The German is fond of sauerkraut
The potato is loved by the Mick;
But the soldiers have long since found out
That through life to our beans we should stick.

From Singing Soldiers, Glass
@America  @war @Civil @food
filename[ ARMYBEAN
play.exe PRCHRSLV
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARMY BUGS

Soldiers sing of their beans and canteens,
Of the coffee in old army cup,
Why not mention the small friends we`ve seen
Always trying to chew armies up ?

cho: Those firm friends , tireless friends,
     Hardly ever neglecting their hugs,
     Their regard never ends,
     How they loved us, those old army bugs._

Note: Whether called Cooties, or, to Confederate soldiers,
     "Bragg's bodyguard" or "tigers", lice were a soldier's
     faithful companions.

tune: Sweet Bye and Bye
@army @Civil @war @animal @bitching
filename[ ARMYBUGS
play.exe PRCHRSLV
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AROUND ME BRAVE BOYS

cho: We will roll down
     Walk around me brave boys and roll down

The anchors are weighed and the sails unfurled
     Roll down
We're bound for te take you halfway round the world
     Walk around me brave boys and roll down

In the white Bay of Biscay the seas will run high
These poor simple transports, they'll wish they could die

When the white coast of Africa, it do appear
These poor simple transports will tremble with fear

When the Cape of Good Hope, it is rounded at last
These poor simple transports will long for the past

When these great southern whales on the quarter do spout
These poor simple transports, they'll goggle and shout

And when we draw near to the New Holland strand
These poor simple transports will long for the land

And when we set sail for Olde England's shore
These poor simple transports will see them no more

And when we arrive in Olde England's shore
Those beds and these talents we'll make 'em to roar

Then sweet ladies of Plymouth, we'll pay all your rent
Go roving no more till our money's all spent

@sailor @whale
filename[ WALKRND
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARTHUR AND MOLLEE

As noble Sir Arthur one morning did ride,
With his hounds at his feet and his sword by his side,
He saw a fair maid sitting under a tree;
He asked her name, and she said 'twas Mollee

"Oh, charming Mollee, you my butler shall be,
To draw the red wine for yourself and for me!
I'll make you a lady so high in degree,
If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!

"I'll give you fine ribbons, I'll give you fine rings,
I'll give you fine jewels and many fine things;
I'll give you a petticoat flounced to the knee,
If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!"

"I'll have none of your ribbons, and none of your rings,
None of your jewels and other fine things;
And I've got a petticoat suits my degree,
And I'll ne'er love a married man till his wife dee."

"Oh, charming Mollee, lend me then your penknife,
And I will go home and I'll kill my own wife;
I'll kill my own wife and my bairnies three,
If you will but love me, my charming Mollee!"

"Oh noble Sir Arthur, it must not be so,
Go home to your wife, and let nobody know;
For seven long years I will wait upon thee,
But I'll ne'er love a married man till his wife dee."

Now seven long years are gone and are past,
The old woman went to her long home at last;
The old woman died, and Sir Arthur was free,
And he soon came a-courting to charming Mollee.

Now charming Mollee in her carriage doth ride,
With her hounds at her feet and her lord by her side.
Now all ye fair maids take a warning by me,
And ne'er love a married man till his wife dee.

From Songs of Northern England, Stokoe
@courting
filename[ ARTMOLL
play.exe ARTMOLL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARTHUR McBRIDE

I once had a comrade named Arthur McBride
as we were a-walking along the seaside
As we were a-walking to bathe in the tide
It was on a fine summer's morning

As we were awalking along the sea sand
We met Sergeant Napier and Corporal O'Hand
And a little wee drummer called Patrick McDan
They were going to the fair in the morning

O Arthur, my lad, if you would but list
Five guineas in gold I would clap in your fist
Besides five shilling to kick up the dust
And drink the king's health in the morning

Na faith, says Arthur, I ken it mysel'
I winna gae wi you to rin at your tail
I winna gae wi you to rin at your tail
And be at your command in the morning

O, if you go with us, I'm sure you'll go clean
We're not like poor fellows goes dirty and mean
We're not like poor fellows goes dirty and mean
Gets nothing but gruel in the morning

Ye needna be chattin' aboot your fine pay
As you go a-marchin' and trampin' away
For all that ye hae is a shilling a day
To get you some chat in the morning

Ye needna be chattin' aboot your fine clothes
Ye've only the len o them as I suppose
Ye daurna sell them in spite o your nose
Or you will get flogged in the morning

I'm blessed said the sergeant, if I'll take more of that
From you or from any young cow-feeding brat
And if you tip me any more of your chat
I will run you thru in the morning

But before they time to draw out their blades
Our whacking shillelaghs came over their heads
We soon let them see that we were their blades
That could temper their pows in the morning

As for the wee drummer we tempered his pow
And made a football o his row-didi-dow
And kicket it in to the ocean to row
And take a bit bathe in the morning

And as for the weapons that hung by their sides
We took them and pitched them far out in the tide
May the deil gae wi them, said Arthur McBride
If ever we see them returning

  FROM Gavin Grieg's "Songs of Northeast"
@soldier
recorded on David Jones Easy and Slow
  and Carthy and Swarbrick Prince Heathen
filename[ ARTMCBRD
play.exe ARTMCBRD
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARTHUR McBRIDE AND THE SERGEANT

I once had a brother called Arthur McBride
And he and I wandered adown the seaside;
Our pleasure and pastime a-watchin' the tide,
And the weather was pleasant & charmin'.
So gaily and gallant we went on a tramp,
We met Sergeant Napier & Corp'ral Demant,
'And the neat little drummer that roused all the camp
And beat row-de-dow-dow in the mornin'.

"Good morning, young fellows," the sergeant did cry
"The same to you, sergeant," we made a reply.
Was nothing more spoken, we made to pass by
It was all on a Christmas Day mornin'.
"Come, come, my fine fellows, I pray you enlist
Ten guineas in gold I will slap in your fist
And a crown in the bargain to kick up the dust
For to drink the king's health in the morning

"Oh no, Mister Sergeant, we are not for sale
We make no such bargain, your bribe won't avail.
We're fond of our country, & care not to sail
Tho' your offers look pleasant & charmin'."
"Ha, if you insult me without other words
I swear by the devil we'll draw out our swords
And thrust thro' your bodies as strength us affords
And leave you to die without warnin'."

We beat the bold drummer as flat as his shoe
We made a football of his row-de-dow-do;
And the sergeant and corporal we knocked down the two
O, we were the boys in that mornin'.
The two little weapons that hung at their side
As we trotted away, we threw into the tide,
"And the devil be with you," said Arthur McBride
"For delayin' our walk in the mornin."

Note: Same story; different words. From Singing Englishmen, A.L.
     Lloyd.
@Irish @recruiting @soldier @fight
filename[ ARTMCBR2
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ARTIFICIAL MEANS
(Christine Lavin, Copyright Flip-A-Jig Music 1984)

Johnny and Janie were the perfect married couple
But not in bed
Oh they tried taking drugs, How-To Books, even Dr. Ruth
But for all intents and purposes,
Their love life was dead.

'Till one day Janie went over to the Pink Pussycat Boutique.
She bought a long cylindrical thing.
Now Janie is smiling, Johnny is not.
Every night you can hear him sing,

He says,
``Our love is bein' kept alive by Artificial Means,
You've grown emotionally attached to that little pink machine,
Our relationship is not as healthy as it seems
'Cause our love is being kept alive by artificial means''
Johnny went down to the barroom
He bought one drink, he bought two, he bought three.
Oh, he moaned to the bartender the state of his married life.
Bartender said, ``Hey Bud, just listen to me.''

So Johnny went over to the Pink Pussycat Boutique,
He bought a plastic blow-up doll.
Now Johnny is smiling, Janie is not.
She is angry she is jealous, she's appalled.

She says
``Our love is bein' kept alive by Artificial Means
You've grown emotionally attached to that poly-ethylene.
Our relationship is not as healthy as it seems,
'Cause our love is being kept alive by artificial means''

Bridge: Wires (wires), Switches (switches), Batteries
(batteries), Plastic (plastic),
Tufts of polyester hair.
Who'd ever think they could replace the love (love!)
Humans used to share (humans used to, humans used to,
humans used to, humans used to!)

Then one fateful day those batteries died
At the same moment that that big doll sprung a leak (psssss).
Janie looked at Johnny looked at Janie looked at Johnny,
They both found it difficult to speak

I wish I could say they threw those contraptions away
And fell in love all over again,
But Johnny taped up that hissing woman
When Janie stole the batteries from his Sony Walkman.

Their love is bein kept alive by Artificial Means.
They've grown emotionally attached to those modern sex
machines.
Their relationship is not as healthy as it seems,
'Cause their love is being kept alive by artificial means

@sex
filename[ ARTMEANS
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS I CAME IN BY FISHERROW

As I came in by Fisherrow, Musselburgh was near me
I threw off my mussel pock and courted with my deary

  Up stairs, doon stairs, timmer stairs fears me
  I thought it lang to lie ma lane when I'm sae near my deary

Oh had her apron bidden doon, the kirk wad ne'er hae kent it
But since the word's gane through the toon,
  My dear I canna mend it

But ye maun mount the cutty stool and I maun mount the pillar
And that's the way the poor folks dae, because they hae nae siller

@Scots @courting  @bastard
from Ewan MacColl's Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland
tune: Jennie Dang the Weaver
filename[ FISHEROW
play.exe FISHEROW
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS I ROVED OUT

And who are you, me pretty fair maid
And who are you, me honey?
And who are you, me pretty fair maid
And who are you, me honey?
She answered me quite modestly,
"I am me mother's darling."

cho: With me too-ry-ay
     Fol-de-diddle-day
     Di-re fol-de-diddle
     Dai-rie oh.

And will you come to me mother's house,
When the sun is shining clearly ( repeat )
I'll open the door and I'll let you in
And divil 'o one  would hear us.

So I went to her house in the middle of the night
When the moon was shining clearly ( repeat )
Shc opened the door and she let me in
And divil the one did hear us.

She took me horse by the bridle and the bit
And she led him to the stable ( repeat )
Saying "There's plenty of oats for a soldier's horse,
To eat it if he's able."

Then she took me by the lily-white hand
And she led me to the table ( repeat )
Saying "There's plenty of wine for a soldier boy,
To drink it if you're able."

Then I got up and made the bed
And I made it nice and aisy ( repeat )
Then I got up and laid her down
Saying "Lassie, are you able?"

And there we lay till the break of day
And divil a one did hear us ( repeat )
Then I arose and put on me clothes
Saying "Lassie, I must leave you."

And when will you return again
And when will we get married ( repeat )
When broken shells make Christmas bells
We might well get married.

From Folksongs and Ballads popular in Ireland, Ossian Publications
Note: An Irish variant of Trooper and the Maid
@Irish @soldier @seduction
filename[ TROOPRM2
play.exe TROOPRM2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS I ROVED OUT

As I roved out on a bright May morning
To view the meadows and flowers gay
Whom should I spy but my own true lover
As she sat under yon willow tree

I took off my hat and I did salute her
I did salute her most courageously
When she turned around well the tears fell from her
Sayin' "False young man, you have deluded me

A diamond ring I owned I gave you
A diamond ring to wear on your right hand
But the vows you made, love, you went and broke them
And married the lassie that had the land"

"If I'd married the lassie that had the land, my love
It's that I'll rue till the day I die
When misfortune falls sure no man can shun it
I was blindfolded I'll ne'er deny"

Now at nights when I go to my bed of slumber
The thoughts of my true love run in my mind
When I turned around to embrace my darling
Instead of gold sure it's brass I find

And I wish the Queen would call home her army
From the West Indies, Amerikay and Spain
And every man to his wedded woman
In hopes that you and I will meet again.

-------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Planxty on "The Well Below The Valley" (1973) and
performed by Richard Thompson live 1990

There are two songs of this name on that Planxty album, this
is the one sung by Andy Irvine.

"We learned this sad and beautiful song from the singing of Paddy
Tunney who lives in Letterkenny, Co. Donegal. He has described it
as dating back to the days of the famine, when any bit of property
at all was enough to tempt a man to jilt his true love in favour
of the 'lassie with the land'" - Andy Irvine

The last verse seems slightly displaced and doesn't really fit
with the rest.

@Irish @love
filename[ ASIROVED
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS I WALKED OUT

As I walked out on an evening so clear,
A young man lamented for the loss of his dear;
And as he lamented, full sore did he cry,
Saying, "Alas, I'm tormented, for love I must die."

"My dear and my jewel, my honey," said he,
"Will you let me gang wi' you a sweetheart to be?
And my dear and my jewel,  my honey,"  said  he,
"Will you let me gang wi' you a sweetheart to be?"

"Were I to say yea, I would say 'gainst my mind,
And for to say no, you would think I was unkind
For to sit and say nothing, you would say I was dumb,
So take that for your answer and go as you come."

"Oh, pox take you, Sally, for you are unkind.
You pulled the lily, left the red rose behind,
But the lily will yellow, and the time will come soon,
When the red rose will flourish in the sweet month of June."

"Oh, some court for beauty, but beauty soon fades,
Others marry for riches,  get bold saucy jades,
But if I ever marry, as plain as you may see,
The wee lass that's loyal is the darling for me."

From Songs of the People, Henry
Collected from William Carton, Garryduff, Ballymoney
@love @infidelity

filename[ ASIWALKD
play.exe ASIWALKD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS I WALKED OUT

As I walked out on an evening so clear,
A young man lamented for the loss of his dear,
And as he lamented, full sore he did cry,
Saying,"'Alas, I'm tormented, for love I must die."

"My dear and my jewel, my honey," said he,
"Will you let me gang wi'you a sweetheart to be?
And my dear and my jewel, my honey," said he,
"Will you let me gang wi'you a sweetheart to be?"

"Were I to say yes, I would say 'gainst my mind,
And for to say no, you would think I was unkind
For to sit and say nothing,  you would say I was dumb,
So take that for your answer and go as you come."

"Oh, pox take you, Sally, for you are unkind,
You pulled the lily, left the red rose behind
But  the lily will yellow,  and the time will come soon
When the red rose will flourish in the sweet month of June."

"Oh, some court for beauty, but beauty soon fades,
Others marry for riches, get bold saucy jades,
But if I ever marry, as plain as you may see,
The wee lass that's loyal is the darling for me."

From Songs of the People, Henry
Collected by William Carton, Ballymoney, ca. 1875
@Irish @courting  @infidelity
filename[ WALKDOUT
play.exe WALKDOUT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS I WENT BY THE LUCKENBOOTHS

As I went by the Luckenbooths
I saw a lady fair.
She had long pendles in her ears,
And jewels in her hair.
And when she cam' to our door
She speired at wha was ben,
"Oh, hae ye seen my lost love
Wi' his braw Hieland men?"

The smile about her bonnie cheek
Was sweeter than the bee;
Her voice was like the birdie's sang
Upon the birken tree.
But when the meenister cam' out
Her mare began to prance,
Then rade into the sunset
Beyond the coast of France.
________________________________________________________

Moffat 50 TSNR (1933), 5 (whence Buchan 101 SS [1962],
147), with music (titled "The Fair Lady").  M. says this
is a spectral or "ghostie" ballad, a great favourite of
children in the 17th and 18th centuries [which I greatly
doubt].

@Scots @ghost
filename[ LUCKBOTH
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS I WENT OUT FOR A RAMBLE

As I went out for a ramble,
It's I stopped in a little town,
It's I fell in love with a pretty little girl
And her eyes they were dark brown.

This girl I love so dearly,
It's I loved her more than life,
But she was nothing but a young flirt
So she never could be my wife.

It's as I was walking one evening,
It's I walked around the park,
It's I found her in the arms of another boy,
God knows it broke my heart.

I went to her and asked her
As plain as words could be,
"Have you fell in love with another boy
And turned your back on me?"

She threw her arms around me
And in these words she said,
"I love vou, dear, with all of my heart,
God knows, I'd rather be dead."

"But your parents, they're against me;
They talk of me all the time,
And you are nothing but a hobo,
God knows you'll never be mine."

It's I turned away and left her,
It's I went on down the track;
And every step that I would take,
She seemed to say, "Come back."

Next morning I caught a freight train,
It's I went way down the line,
It's I said, "I'll go and ask her
If she'll try me one more time."

Now, boys, all take warning
From a friend that's tried and true.
Don't fall in love with such a young girl,
Her love will prove untrue.

God knows I've been a rambler,
It's I rambled all around;
But if she ever proves true to me
I'll marry and settle down.

From Our Singing Country, Lomax
@love @infidelity
filename[ ASIWENT
play.exe ASIWENT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS SYLVIE WAS WALKING

As Sylvie was walking down by the riverside,
As Sylvie was walking down by the riverside,
And looking so sadly, and looking so sadly
And looking so sadly upon its swift tide.

She thought on the lover that left her in pride,
She thought on the lover that left her in pride,
On the banks of the meadow, on the banks of the meadow
On the banks of the meadow she sat down and cried.

And as she sat weeping, a young man came by
And as she sat weeping, a young man came by,
"What ails you, my jewel, what ails you, my jewel,
What ails you, my jewel and makes you to cry ?"

"I once had a sweetheart and now I have none.
I once had a sweetheart and now I have none.
He's a-gone and he's leaved me, he's a-gone and he's leaved me
He's a-gone and he's leaved me in sorrow to mourn."

"One night in sweet slumber, I dream that I see,
One night in sweet slumber, I dream that I see,
My own dearest true love, my own dearest true love,
My own dearest true love come smiling to me."

"But when I awoke and I found it not so,
but when I awoke and I found it not so,
Mine eyes were like fountains, mine eyes were like fountains
Mine eyes were like fountains where the water doth flow."

"I'll spread sail of silver and I'll steer towards the sun.
I'll spread sail of silver and I'll steer towards the sun,
And my false love will weep, and my false love will weep
And my false love will weep for me after I'm gone."

From The Penguin Book of Englosh Folk Songs, Williams and Lloyd
Collected from Mrs. Aston, Australia, 1911
@love @parting
filename[ SYLVWALK
play.exe SYLVWALK
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AS TIME GOES BY
from the movie Casablanca

   You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss,'
   A sigh is just a sigh,
   The fundamental things apply, as time goes by.
   And when two lovers woo, they still say "I love you,"
   on that you can rely,
   No matter what the future brings, as time goes by.

   Moonlight and love songs, never out of date,
   Hearts full of passion, jealousy and hate,
   Woman needs man, and man must have his mate,
   there's no one can deny.

   It's still the same old story, a fight for love and glory,
   A case of do or die,
   The world will always welcome lovers, as time goes by.
filename[ ASTIME
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ASH GROVE

Down yonder green valley, where streamlets meander
Where twilight is fading, I pensively roam
For at the bright noontide in solitude wander
Amidst the dark shades of the lonely ash grove

Tis there where the blackbird is cheerfully singing
Each warbler enchants with his notes from a tree
O then little think I of sorrow or sadness
The ash grove enchanting spells beauty for me

_________
  This Girl Scout version is less morbid that most of the other
versions.
@plant @Welsh
filename[ ASHGROV2
play.exe ASHGROV1
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ASH GROVE
Welsh

The ash grove, how graceful, how plainly tis speaking,
     the harp [wind through it playing has language for me.
Whenever the light through its branches is breaking
     a host of kind faces is gazing on me.
The friends of my childhood again are before me,
     each step wakes a memory as freely I roam.
With soft whispers laden its leaves rustle o'er me,
     the ash grove, the ash grove again [alone is my home.

Down yonder green valley where streamlets meander
     when twilight is fading I pensively rove.
Or at the bright noontide in solitude wander
     amid the dark shades of the lonely ash grove.
Twas there while the blackbird was cheerfully singing
     I first met that dear one, the joy of my heart.
Around us for gladness the bluebells were springing
     the ash grove, the ash grove that sheltered my home.

My laughter is over, my step loses lightness,
     old countryside measures steal soft on my ears;
I only remember the past and its brightness,
     the dear ones I mourn for again gather here.
From out of the shadows their loving looks greet me,
     and wistfully searching the leafy green dome,
I find other faces fond bending to greet me,
     the ash grove, the ash grove alone is my home.


from Sandra Stigen, 1984
but first learned in elementary school
@Welsh @plant
filename[ ASHGROV1
play.exe ASHGROV1
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ASHES OF LOVE
(Anglin & Wright)

Ashes of love, cold as ice
cho: You made the debt, I'll pay the price
     Our love is gone, there's no doubt
     Ashes of love, the flames burned out.

The love light that shines in your eyes
Has gone out to my surprise
We said goodbye, my heart bled
I can't revive, your love is dead.

I trusted dear our love would stand
Your every wish was my command
My heart tells me I must forget
I loved you then, I love you yet.

copyright Anglin & Wright
@country @bluegrass @love
filename[ ASHLOVE
BJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
ASHOKAN FAREWELL
(Grian McGregor; tune Jay Ungar)

The sun is sinking low in the sky above Ashokan
The pines and the willows know soon we will part.
There's a whisper in the wind of promises unspoken
And a love that will always remain in my heart.

My thoughts will return to the sound of your laughter
The magic of moving as one
And a time we'll remember long ever after
The moonlight and music and dancing are done.

Will we climb the hills once more?
Will we walk the woods together?
Will I feel you holding me close once again?
Will every song we've sung stay with us forever?
Will you dance in my dreams or my arms until then?

Under the moon the mountains lie sleeping
Over the lake the stars shine;
They wonder if you or I will be keeping
The magic and music, or leave them behind.

Copyright Grian McGregor.
Recorded by Pricilla Herdman, Forever & Always
Note: One of two sets of lyrics Jay Ungar has "authorized to be
     recorded with my tune." Folk process, Bah! (See ASHOKAN2 for
     the other.) (spite and venom courtesy of RG)
@parting
filename[ AHOKAN1
CC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE ASTEROID LIGHT

(GCCG) C - - - / F G C - : / /

My father was the keeper of the asteroid light
And he slept with a Martian one fine night
From this union there came three,
Two were mutes and the other was me.

     G G / G C

     Yo ho ho the jets run free
     Oh for the life at the speed of c

One night as we were sailing the blue
And singing the well known spaceman's tune
A voice came echoing out of the void
And there sat my mother on her asteroid.

     CHORUS

What has become of my children three
My mother then she asked of me
One is on exhibit in a zoo on Venus
The other keeps a telepathic link between us

     CHORUS

Then the deuterons flashed in her hydrogen hair
And I looked again and my mother wasn't there
But she telepathed angrily out of the night
To Hell with the keeper of the asteroid light.

     CHORUS

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Note: See  EDDYSTON etc.
@parody
From the singing of Bill Day
see also EDDYSTON
filename[ ASTERLT
play.exe EDDYSTON
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AT MY WINDOW
(Townes Van Zandt)

At my window, watchin' the sun go;
Hopin' the stars know it's time to shine.
Daydreams aloft on dark wings; soft as the sun streams at day's decline.
Livin' is laughin'; dyin' says nothin' at all.
My babe and I lyin' here watchin' the evenin' fall.

Well time flows through brave beginnings
And she leaves her endings beneath or feet.
Walk lightly upon their faces; leave gentle traces upon their sleep.
Ah, livin' is dancin' and dyin' does nothin' at all.
Babe and I lyin' here, watchin' the evenin' fall.

Three dimes, hard luck, and good times, fast lines and low rhymes;
Ain't much to say.
Feel fine, feel low and lazy, feel grey and hazy, feel far away.
Ah, livin' is sighin' and dyin' ain't for lyin' so hard.
Babe and I lyin' here watchin' a day go by.

Copyright Townes Van Zandt
filename[ ATMYWNDW
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AT THE BOARDING HOUSE

At the boarding house where I lived,
Things were getting green with mold
The landlord's hair was in the butter,
Silver threads among the gold.

When the dog died, we had hotdogs
When the cat died, catnip tea,
When the landlord died, I left there,
Spare ribs were too much for me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------
As sung by Judy Cook, who learned it from her father.
tune: Silver Threads Among The Gold

Also:
While the organ pealed potatoes, lard was rendered by the choir
And the sexton wrang the dishrag, someone set the church on fire.
"Holy smoke!" the preacher shouted, as he wildly tore his hair;
Now his head resembles Heaven, 'cause there is no parting there.

Girls can never change their nature,
'Tis a thing beyond their reach;
If a girl is born a lemon,
She can never be a peach.
But the law of compensation
Does this lesson to us teach:
You can always squeeze a lemon;
Ever tried to squeeze a peach?

The train was standing at the station,
When a young man full of care
Running madly to get on it,
Tripped--fell headlong down the stair.
An old lady rushed up to him,
Said, "Did you miss a step, my son?"
He looked up and said, "No, lady,
I hit every bloody one!"

[Tune, Silver Threads among the Gold.]
@humor @parody @kids
filename[ BORDHOUS
play.exe BORDHOUS
DC, RG, MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AT THE ZOO
(Paul Simon)

Someone told me, it's all happening at the zoo.
I do believe it, I do believe it's true.
It's a light and tumble journey from the East Side to the park;
Just a fine and fancy ramble to the zoo.
But you can take the crosstown bus if it's raining or it's cold,
And the animals will love it if you do ... if you do now.

Something tells me it's all happening at the zoo.
I do believe it, do believe it's true.

The monkeys stand for honesty, giraffes are insincere
And the elephants are kindly but they're dumb
Orangutans are skeptical of changes in their cages
And the zookeeper is very fond of rum
Zebras are reactionaries, antelopes are missionaries
Pigeons plot in secrecy, and hamsters turn on frequently
What a gas--you've come and see, At the zoo (3x)

Copyright Paul Simon
@animal
filename[ ATZOO
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AT TWENTY-ONE

At twenty-one I first begun
To court my neighbor's child
We both being young and full of fun
Bright Phoebus on us smiled
We both being young and full of fun
Right well we did agree
'Twas well I knew she would prove true
And loyal unto me.

At twenty-two no man could view
All the beauty that this maid possessed
Her curling hair in ringlets fair
Hung down her snow white breast
The picture of her two blue eyes
My pencil cannot tell
Her effigy no hand could draw
Nor paint her parallel
At twenty-four I did adore
This beautiful young fair maid
When she gave her hand
To a rich young man
Alas but I was poor
They sailed away across the sea
And left me here to mourn
That bright May day she sailed away
Never more for to return

recorded by Andy Irvine/Dick Gaughan on "Parallel Lines" (1981)
Andy notes: "I heard this song from the singing of Robert
Cinnamond who lived a ripe old age at the banks of Lough Neagh.
He had a vast   repertoire, much of which was collected for the
BBC by Sean O'Boyle in 1955, including this heart-breaker."

@Irish @love @courting @tearjerker
filename[ AT21
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AU CLAIR DE LA LUNE
  (Charles Fonteyn Manney and Jean Baptiste Lully)

Au clair de la lune, mon ami Pierrot
Prete moi ta plume pour ecrire un mot
Ma chandelle est morte, je n'ai plus de feu
Ouvre moi ta porte, pour l'amour de Dieu

Au clair de la lune, Pierrot repondes
Je n'ai pas de plume, je suis dans mon lit
Va chez la voisine, je crois qu'elle y est
Car dans la cuisine, un bat le bricket

At thy door I'm knocking by the pale moonlight
Lend a pen I pray thee, I've a word to write
Guttered is my candle, burns my fire no more
For the love of heaven, open now the door

Pierrot cried in answer by the pale moonlight
"In my bed I'm lying, late and chill the night
Yonder at my neighbor's, someone is astir
Fire is freshly kindled - get a light from her."

To the neighbor's house then by the pale moonlight
Goes our gentle Lubin to beg a pen to write
"Who knocks there so softly?" Calls a voice above
"Open wide your door now, 'tis the god of love"

Seek they pen and candle in the pale moonlight
They can see so little, dark is now the night
What they find in seeking, that is not revealed
All behind her door is carefully concealed

@French
filename[ CLAIRLUN
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AULD LANG SYNE
(Robert Burns)

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne?

ch.
     And for auld lang syne, my jo,
     for auld lang syne,
     We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
     For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint stoup!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

& c.

(In the original letter to Mrs. Dunlop the line
"And never brought to mind" was
"And never thought upon" but the above is what
he sent to Thompson for publication.) ARB

Note: This is an accurate transcription of Burn's holographic
original. RG
@Scots @parting
Tune: Auld Lang Syne (240)
filename[ AULDLNG2
play.exe AULDLNG2
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AULD LANG SYNE

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?

We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.
We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Robert Burns forwarded a copy of the original song to the British
Museum with the remark, "The following song, an old song, of the
olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in
manuscript until I took it down from an old man's singing, is
enough to recommend any air." (Gavin Grieg: "Last Leaves of
Traditional Ballads")  The verses were set to a pentatonic air:
"I fee'd a lad at Michaelmas."

filename[ AULDLANG
play.exe AULDLANG
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AULD LANG SYNE (original)

Should auld acquaintance be forqot,
Tho' they return with scars?
These are a noble hero's lot,
Obtain'd in glorious wars;
Welcome, my Varo, to my breast,
Thy arms about me twine,
And make me once again as blest,
As I was lang syne.

O'er moor and dale with your gay friend
You may pursue the chase,
And after a blythe bottle end
AII cares in my embrace.
And in a vacant rainy day
You shall be wholly mine:
We'll make the hours run smooth away
And laugh at lang syne.
Shall Monarchy be quite forgot,
And of it no more heard?
Antiquity be razed about
And slav'ry put in stead?
Is Scotsman's blood now grown so cold,
The valor of their mind,
That they can never once reflect
On old lang syne?

note: Burns based his song on this.
@Scots @patriotic @love
filename[ AULDLNG3
play.exe AULDLNG2
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE AULD MAN AND THE CHURNSTAFF

Oh, there was an aul' woman in oor toon, in oor toon did dwell,
She loved her husband dearly, but anither yin twice as well.

cho: Wi' mi ri fo roo fa raddy, boys, mi ri fo roo fa ran,
     Wi' mi ri fo roo fa raddy, may she whack for ol da dan.

She went into the doctor's shop some medicine for to find,
Sayin, "Have you any medicine wid knock an aul' man blind?"

Oh, the doctor gave her marrow bones and bid her grind them fine,
And dust them in the aul' man's eyes and that would knock him blind.

"Oh, I am tired o' this world, I'm tired of my life,
I think I'll go and droon mysel' and that'll end the strife."

So they both went out together till they came to the river brim,
But when she cam' up, he stepped aside and she went tumbling in.
So loudly did she bawl and so loudly did she call,
"An houl' your tongue," the auld man said, "Sure I can't see you at all."

Sometimes she rose to the surface and tried to catch the brin,
But the aul'd man wi' the churnstaff, he birled her farther in.

Oh, when he tought she'd got enough, he pulled her to dry lan',
Sayin' "I think the notion's oot o' your heed o' haein' anither man."


Sam Henry's Songs of the People (original columns 1923-1939) 12 March 1927
collected by A.E. Boyd from John Parker, 77, Mayoghill, Garvagh

filename[ MARBONE2
play.exe[ MARBONE2
@marriage @murder
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AULD MAN TAE THE OAK TREE

     1.
     Says the auld man
     Tae the oak tree,
     "Young and lusty was I
     When I kenned thee.

     "I was young an lusty,
     I was fair an clear,
     Young an lusty was I
     Mony a lang year.

     "But sair failed am I,
     Sair failed noo,
     Sair failed am I
     Sin I kenned you."

     2.
     Young and souple was I, when I lap the dyke;
     Now I'm auld and frail, I douna step a syke.
        Buy broom &c.

     Young and souple was I, when at Lautherslack,
     Now I'm auld and frail, and lie at Nansie's back.
        Buy broom &c.

     Had she gien me butter, when she gae me bread,
     I wad lookit baulder, wi' my beld head.
        Buy broom &c.
     ________________________________________________________

     (1) Montgomerie SNR (1946), 126 (no. 162), pretty much as
     in Ritson, Gammer Gurton's Garland ("Says t' auld man
     ti't oak tree," etc.). Bell RNB (1812) 257, has a
     slightly fuller version, thus:

          I was young and lusty,
            I was fair and clear;
          I was young and lusty,
            Many a long year.
                Sair fail'd hinny,
                   Sair fail'd now;
                Sair fail'd hinny,
                   Sin' I kend thou.

          When I was young and lusty,
            I could loup a dyke;
          But now at five and sixty,
            Cannot do the like.
                Sair fail'd hinny,
                  Sair fail'd now,
                Sair fail'd hinny,
                  Sin' I kend thou.

          Then said the awd man
            To the oak tree;
          Sair fail'd is 'e,
            Sin' I kend thee.
                Sair fail'd hinny,
                  Sair fail'd now;
                Sair fail'd hinny,
                  Sin' I kend thou.

     Sir Cuthbert Sharpe (Bishoprick Garland, 1834, slightly
edited--e.g. 3.3 Sair fail'd is I) says "This song is `far
north;' it is admitted in Bell's Northern Bards, and may very
possibly belong to the bishoprick, where it is well known."
Slightly fuller in Bruce and Stokoe (1882), 92, with music;
whence Whittaker (1940), 63.
     (2) Kinsley, Burns 913-14, no. 626 B; tune, "Buy Broom
     Besoms" (q.v.).  A traditional version collected by
     Burns. St. 1 comparable to Bruce & Stokoe's 2 (not
     counting chorus):

           When aw was young and lusty,
             Aw cud lowp a dyke;
           But now aw'm awd an' stiff,
             Aw can hardly step a syke.
@age
filename[ MANOAK
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AULD MAN'S MARE'S DEID

The auld man's mare is deed,
The puir man's mare is fleed,
Shu deed for want o' naething.
Shu nedder deed for mell, or maute,
Nor yet shu deed for kail or saut,
But shu deed for want o' breathin'.
________________________________________________________

Saxby Shetland Trad. Lore (1932), 63; used as a lullaby.
This may be a traditional variant of a song reputedly
composed by Patrick (Patie) Birnie (fl. 1700), a well-known
rhymer and musician of his day.  [Ramsay's "Elegie on Patie
Birnie" (1721) mentions this song.]  He was a Fifer, and
"practised the art of a violer at the burgh of Kinghorn"
(Chambers).  [Texts in (e.g.) Whitelaw BSS (1875), 128 (2
versions), Ford VSB II.143 (collated), and with music in
Greig Scots Minstrelsie, III.259.]  It begins

     The auld man's mear's dead;
     The puir body's mear's dead;
     The auld man's mear's dead,
       A mile aboon Dundee.

The sarcastic catch-phrase "He died for want o' breath" is
often given as a reply to the question "How did he die?"
(first heard c. 1940, Fife).

@kids @death
filename[ MAREDEAD
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AULD WIFE

1.
"Auld wife, auld wife,
  Will ye go a-shearing?"
"Speak a little louder, sir,
  I'm unco dull o' hearing."

"Auld wife, auld wife,
  Wad ye tak a kiss?"
"Yes, indeed, I will, sir;
  It wadna be amiss."

2.
"Auld wifie! auld wifie!
  Ye maun gang a-shearin'."
"Speak a little looder, sir,
  I'm unco dull o' hearin'."

"Auld wifie! auld wifie!
  I'm gaun to kiss ye!"
"That's a hantle looder, sir,
  May a' the warld bless you!"
________________________________________________________

(1) Chambers PRS (1847), 290; (1870), 158; Montgomerie
SNR (1946), 119 (no. 149).  The first stanza to be spoken
in a loud voice, the second quite quietly.
(2) Rymour Club Misc. I (1906-11), 178, from Speymouth.
(2 couplets.)
A version of st. 1 from Argyll, in Maclagan (1901), 254: Auld
wife, auld wife, are you gaun a shearing?/ Speak a wee thing
looder, I'm a wee dull o' hearing.
[See Herd MSS, 1776; ODNR 429, No. 536.]

@Scots @handicap @courting
filename[ DEAFWOM2
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MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AUNT RHODY

Go tell Aunt Rhody, go tell Aunt Rhody,
Go tell Aunt Rhody that the old gray goose is dead.

The one she's been saving to make a feather bed.

The old gander's weeping, because his wife is dead.

The goslings are mourning, because their mother's dead.

She died in the mill pond from standing on her head.

Go tell Aunt Rhody that the old gray goose is dead.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Traditional, from old France.  Some say the philosopher Rousseau
had a hand in its making.
@animal
filename[ AUNTRODY
play.exe AUNTRODY
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AUNT SUE
(Pete Sutherland)

One day in a book store I happened to look
And I found her name written in an old song book
A ballad she'd written was printed on the page
Just the way her mother taught it in her old age

cho: And I know more tunes than the man in the moon
     And each flying phrase is a sweet living thing
     But I'll lay down my fiddle just once could I hear
     My dad's Aunt Susan sing

Well I asked my daddy did you know your Aunt Sue
Did she sing the Gypsy Davey or Two Sisters for you
With your milk and your cookies did she serve you up a song
Oh dad do you remember though it's been so long

My dad kind of chuckled and he nodded his head
You great Aunt Sue was quite a character he said
She could tan the livin hair off a young boys hide
She could tell us kids a story make us laugh till we cried

But songs I dont remember, couldnt tell you what kind
She must have known some hymns though I wouldn'a paid no mind
Theose old folks were always singing some old parlor song
More than that I could'nt tell you, it's been too long

Once the songs were passed along from mother down to child
And each family sang them in their own fine style
Songs that seemed they'd last forever soon grew stranger every day
Till no one cared to listen and they faded away

Well I had to learn Aunt Susan's song from that old book I bought
I could sing it for you know right or wrong it's all I've got
For the voice that could have taught me has been still some 40 years
I just strain to hear the echo that will never leave my ears

@music @folkmusic
filename[ AUNTSUE
ED
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AURA LEE
(Words: George R. Poulton; Music W. W. Fosdick)

As the blackbird in the spring, 'neath the willow tree,
Sat and piped, I heard him sing; sing of Aura Lee.
     Aura Lee, Aura Lee, maid with golden hair
     Sunshine came along with thee, and swallows in the air.

In thy blush the rose was born, music when you spake.
Through thine azure eye, the morn, sparkling seemed to break.
     Aura Lee, Aura Lee, birds of crimson wing
     Never song have sung to me as in that night, sweet spring.

Aura Lee, the bird may flee the willow's golden hair
Swing through winter fitfully, on the stormy air.
     Yet if thy blue eyes I see, gloom will soon depart.
     For to me, sweet Aura Lee is sunshine through the heart.

When the mistletoe was green, midst the winter's snows
Sunshine in thy face was seen kissing lips of rose.
     Aura Lee, Aura Lee, take my golden ring.
     Love and light return with thee, and swallows with the spring.

Note: A traditional West Point favorite for a couple of centuries. Elvis,
     of course, used the tune for "Love me Tender." Neither set of lyrics
     is terribly inspired; perhaps the ruder fusion approach is best:
     "Love me tender, love me sweet, love me Aura Lee" RG
@love
filename[ AURALEE
play.exe AURALEE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AUTOMATION
(Alan Sherman)

 It was automation, I know
 That was what was making the factory go
 It was IBM
 It was Univac
 It was all those gears going
    Clickity clack, dear
 I thought automation was keen
 Till you were replaced by a ten-ton machine
 It was a computer that tore us apart, dear
 Automation broke my heart.

There's an RCA 5-0-3
Standing next to me, dear, where you used to be
Doesn't have your smile
Doesn't have your shape,
Just a bunch of punch cards and light bulbs and tape, dear
You're a girl who's soft, warm and sweet
But you're only human and that's obsolete
Though I'm very fond of that new 5-0-3, dear Automation's not for
me.

It was automation, I'm told That s why I got fired and I'm out in
the cold How could I have known When the 5-0-3
Started in to blink it was winking at me, dear
I thought it was just some mishap
When it sidled over and sat on my lap
But when it said "l love you " and gave me a hug, dear
That's when I pulled out. . . its plug.

Copyright 1963 Curtain Call Productions
tune: Fascination
@computer @parody
filename[ AUTOMTN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AUTUMN TO MAY
(Paul Stookey & Peter Yarrow)

Oh, once I had a little dog, his color it was brown,
I taught his how to whistle, to sing and dance and run.
His legs they were fourteen yards long, his ears so very wide,
Around the world in half a day, upon him I could ride.
Sing tarry-o-day, Sing Autumn to May.

Oh, once I had a little frog, he wore a vest of red,
He leaned upon a silver cane, a top hat on his head.
He'd speak of far off places, of things to see and do,
And all the kings and queens he'd met, while sailing in a shoe.
Sing tarry-o-day, Sing Autumn to May.

Oh, one I had a flock of sheep, they grazed upon a feather.
I'd keep them in a music box from wind and rainy weather.
And every day the sun would shine, they'd fly all through the town
To bring me back some golden rings, and candy by the pound.
Sing tarry-o-day, Sing Autumn to May.

Oh, once I had a downy swan, she was so very frail,
She sat upon an oyster shell, and hatched me out a snail.
The snail it changed into a bird, the bird to butterfly,
And he who tells a bigger tale would have to tell a lie.
Sing tarry-o-day, Sing Autumn to May.

copyright Pepamar Music
@animal
filename[ AUTUMNTO
SP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE AUTUMNAL RECRUDESCENCE OF THE AMATORY URGE

When the birds are cacaphonic in the trees and on the verge
Of the fields in mid-October when the cold is like a scourge.
It is not delight in winter that makes feathered voices surge,
But autumnal recrudescence of the amatory urge.

When the frost is on the punkin' and when leaf and branch diverge,
Birds with hormones reawakened sing a paean, not a dirge.
What's the reason for their warbling? Why on earth this late-year
     splurge?
The autumnal recrudescence of the amatory urge.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Written by Susan Stiles, copyright December 1973

filename[ AUTMRECR
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AVATAR

When righteousness declines and wickedness is strong
In the dawning of an age as a new age comes along
That's when I rise again, again, again to light the flame
Of truth within the world of men
   I am light, I am truth, I am the fire of the sun
   I am the hope of all the earth the power of the one

`When men have lost their way and know not where to turn
And the future seems to lay where the fires of hatred burn
That's when I rise again again again to light the flame
of love within the hearts of men
   I am light, I am truth, I am the fire of the sun
   I am the destiny of man, the Spirit of the one

When ignorance has bound the hearts of men in fear
And men cry out for help, and no one seems to hear
That's when I rise again, to break the bonds enslaving men
To let a new world be born.
   I am light, I am truth, I am the fire of the sun
   I am the hope of all the earth  the triumph of the one.

@religion  @Easter @seasonal
filename[ AVTAR
SS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AVONDALE
(Dominic Behan)

Ch:     Oh have you been to Avondale
        And wandered in the lovely vale
        Where tall trees whisper all the tale
        Of Avondale's proud eagle

Where fame and ancient glory fate
Such was the land where he was laid
Like Christ was thirty pieces paid
For Avondale's proud eagle

Long years that green and lovely vale
Has nursed Parnell, our grandest Gael
And cursed the land that has betrayed
Fair Avondale's proud eagle

Copyright Code Music
Note: this is one of the most popular Irish songs, recorded
by Mick Moloney and many more.

This song is about Parnell, the leader of the Irish Home Rule
Movement in the 1880s. After a scandal about his sex life, his
supporters, under a campaign of hatred by both the English press
and the Catholic church, deserted him and he died shortly
afterwards. MJ

@Irish @history @nature
filename[ AVONDALE
play.exe AVONDALE
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AWA' WHIGS AWA'
(Robert Burns)

Our thrissles flourish'd fresh and fair,
   And bonie bloom'd our roses;
But Whigs cam like a frost in June,
   An wither'd a our posies.

CHORUS
Awa, Whigs, awa!
  Awa, Whigs, awa!
Ye're but a pack o traitor louns,
   Ye'll do nae guid at a'.

Our ancient crown's fa'n in the dust;
   Deil blin' them wi the stoure o't,
An  write their names in the black beuk
   Wha gae the Whigs the power o't!
& ch
Our sad decay in church and state
   Surpasses my descriving:
The Whig cam o'er us for a curse,
  An we hae done wi thriving.
& ch

Grim Vengeance lang has taen a nap,
  But we may see him waukin:
Gude help the day when Royal heads
   Are hunted like a maukin!
& ch

@Scots @political @Tory @rebel
tune: Awa whigs awa (303)
filename[ AWAWHIGS
play.exe AWAWHIGS
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AWAY DOWN EAST

     Away down East, away down West
     Away down Alabama:
     The only girl that I love best
     Her name is Susy Anna.

     I took her to a ball one night
     And sat her down to supper:
     The table fell and she fell too
     And stuck her nose in the butter.

     The butter, the butter
     The holy margarine
     Two black eyes and a jelly nose
     And the rest all painted green.
     ________________________________________________________

     Ritchie Singing Street (1964), 26; skipping song from
     Edinburgh, c. 1914.

@Scots @kids
filename[ SUZYANNA
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AWAY IN A MANGER

Away in a manger, no crib for His bed,
The little Lord Jesus lay down his sweet head.
The stars in the sky looked down where He lay
The little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.

The cattle are lowing, the poor Baby wakes,
But little Lord Jesus, no crying He makes;
I love Thee, Lord Jesus, look down from the sky
And stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay,
Close by me forever, and love me, I pray!
Bless all the dear children in Thy tender care
And take us to heaven, to Live with Thee there.

@seasonal @Xmas @carol
filename[ AWAYMNGR
play.exe AWAYMNGR
play.exe FLOWAFT2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AWAY TO WISCONSIN

Since times are so hard I must tell you, sweetheart,
I've a good mind to sell both my plow and my cart,
And away to Wisconsin on a journey to go
For to double our fortune as other folks do.

Oh, husband, remember the land you must clear
Will cost you the labor of many a year.
With horses and cattle and provisions to buy,
Why you'll hardly get started before you must die

Oh, wife, let us go now and let us not wait,
For I long to be in that wonderful state.
You'll be a fine lady and who knows, but I
May even be gov'nor some day'fore I die.

Oh, husband, remember that land of delight
Is surrounded by Indians who murder by night.
Your house and your cowbarn will be burned to the ground.
While your wife and your children lie mangled all'round.

Oh, wife, you've convinced me. We'll argue no more
For I've never once thought of your dying before,
And my children, I love them although they are small,
But my cattle I value most precious of all.

from Folk Songs out of Wisconsin, Peters
@pioneer
filename[ AWAYWISC
play.exe AWAYWISC
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AWAY WITH RUM

(GGEE)

We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band
On the right side of temperance we do take our stand
We don't use tobacco, because we do think
The people who use it are likely to drink

     C G7 / . . . . . . . . .

     Away, away with rum by gum, with rum by gum, with rum by gum
     Away, away with rum by gum, the song of the temperance union

We never eat fruit cake because it has rum
And one little taste turns a man to a bum
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man eating fruit cake until he gets tight

We never eat cookies because they have yeast
And one little bite turns a man to a beast
Oh, can you imagine a sadder disgrace
Than a man in the gutter with crumbs on his face

If you wash your hair, never rinse it with beer
Because if you do, you'll get foam in your ear
And if there's one thing a young man must dread
It's dating a girl with a head on her head

If you pick your navel, don't do it with a knife
Because if you do you'll get the shock of your life
Oh, can you imagine a site quite a horrid
As a man pulling out his umbilical cord

We never eat peaches, because peaches ferment
And peaches ferment at the least little dent
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man drunk on peaches he thought were alright

We never eat oatmeal, because oatmeal is mush
And one little bite turns a man to a lush
Oh can you imagine the pain of a ma
To watch little junior act just like his pa

We never chew toothpicks because we recall
That wood ferments into wood alcohol
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man chewing toothpicks until he gets tight

We never drink water, they put it in gin
One little sip and a man starts to grin
Oh can you imagine the horrible sight
Of a man drinking water and singing all night

@drink
recorded by Theo Bikel on Folksinger's Choice, also Mitchell Trio
filename[ AWAYRUM
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DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AWAY WITH RUM (3)(THE SONG OF THE TEMPERANCE UNION)

We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band,
On the right side of temperance we do take our stand.
We don't use tobacco because we do think
That the people who use it are likely to drink.

cho:    Away, away with rum by gum,
        With rum by gum, with rum by gum!
        Away, away with rum by gum!
        The song of the Temperance Union!
                        (Salvation Army)

We never touch honey, it turns into mead,
And stealing from insects is the worst sort of greed
Oh can you imagine a man with DTs
Pursued by a swarm of mad, pink bumblebees?

We never use lotion when we shave our chins
Cause osmosis lets all the alcohol in
Can you imagine what people will say
When you're under the basin, osmosed for the day?

We never eat chocolate because it has nuts
And the least little bite turns a girl to a slut
Oh can you imagine a sorrier mess
Than a girl eating chocolate and trying to undress?

We never eat peaches because they ferment
And a peach will ferment with the least little dent
Oh an you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man eating peaches until he gets tight?

Oh we-ee have Viceroy for the ma-an who thinks (dated! 1964)
And we-ee have Ban for the man who stinks
But thinking and stinking they don't bother me
I take care of both with Te-e-ton Tea!

We don't drink Coke or Pepsi, they're made from cocaine,
And you might as well shoot it right into your vein.
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier bind
Than rotting your teeth while blowing your mind. (1)

We never drop tea, cause it comes from a pot,
And that could be evil as likely as not,
We don't mind the taste, but it's really bad news,
To get busted for holding what Tom Lipton brews. (1)

We don't step on grapes because that's making wine,
And one single stomp turns a man to a swine.
Can you imagine a fouler defeat,
Than a man getting stonkered by licking his feet? (1)

Shun girls who are witty and pretty and kind
There's nothing like love for corrupting your mind.
At least in -our- circle it just isn't done
Our kids are adopted; we -never- have fun. (1)

We don't buy any cereal because its called mush
And one little bite turns a kid to a lush
Oh, can you imagine the pain of a Ma
To watch little Junior act just like his Pa! (2)

We don't take any rub-downs, stiff muscles to cure
Because alcohol turns a man to a boor
O, can you imagine a sorrier fate:
Than a man getting mass-aged 'till he can't stand up straight? (2)

We don't allow backrubs, we think they're a crime
We will always condemn them in song or in rhyme
An alcohol backrub is worse than straight gin:
When you think of the liquor absorbed thru your skin! (4)

We don't watch television because its a sin
To exhibit the body of a nude Rin-Tin-Tin
And all those bad cowboys a-shooting their guns!
And a-shooting again when they show the re-runs! (3)

When you go out dining, you're tempted to eat
All the delicacies on a menu elite
Remember this warning, on wine we've a ban;
Try spaghetti and meatballs and -not- coq au vin! (4)

We never drink milk, that's where kumiss comes from
And one tiny sip makes a Mongoloid bum!
Oh, can you imagine a sadder disgrace
Than a stone blind drunk Mongol with milk on his face? (5)

We never touch coffee, it makes our eyes gleam
At least, when they add irish whiskey and cream
Oh, can you imagine a fate so unkind
Than slugging down coffee, and getting stone-blind? (6)

Since eggnog is evil, we never eat eggs
Give way to one sin and who knows what comes neggst?
There might be excuses for brandy or gin
But who wants DTs on account of some hen? (6)

We wish you'd avoid putting ice in your drink
It harms your intestines and palate, we think
And if you escape that, it still isn't nice
To wake up hung over because of bad ice! (6)

We never drink water, they mix it with gin
Just one little sip and a man starts to grin
Oh, can you imagine a sillier clunk
Than a man swigging water until he's geshtunk? (6)

Now if you ride railroads with bar-cars on trains
You're giving the Devil the key to your brains
Think of a story that's sadder to tell
Than to start from Grand Central and wind up in Hell! (7)

We never eat jelly, they make it with wine
And one little bite turns a man to a swine
Can't you envision, in Hell he will roast,
That teen-ager drunk on his jelly and toast! (8)

We never use mouthwash, we know very well
That those who taste alcohol go straight to Hell
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier scene
Than a man down in Hell 'cause he used Listerine? (8)

We never eat choc'late, 'cause its just like sex
The endorphins will make you a moral wreck
You'll finish the bag-full, all covered with sweat....
And then you just -gotta- have a cigarette! (5)

We don't read Science-Fiction, 'cause its too complex
And Heinlein and Farmer just talk about sex!
That Lazarus Long is a Dirty Old Man
He's a Bad Example to set for a Fan! (5)

We never drink tea, for they mix it with wine
And one little drink turns a man to a swine
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man drinking tea, and singing all night? (0)

We never use money, 'cause that's gam-bol-in'
And that, my good friends, is surely a SIN
Our life may be simple, it's surely a bore
But what else can you do when you tend to be poor? (0)

We never sing folk (filk) songs, they're evil and crude
They celebrate Sin, and their language is lewd
The language is shocking, the politics vile
And their grammar and rhetoric ain't got no style! (6)

When you meet a folk (filk) singer, you haven't much choice
But to sit there and listen while they prove they have no voice
And the shockingest thing to imagine by far
Is a girl with a G-string....upon her guitar! (3)

We don't listen to filk songs, it isn't our dish
We don't like Bob Kanefski, and -hate- Leslie Fish!
We know all the filkers will wind up in Hell
And besides, all them filksongs have a real Fish-y smell!  (5)

We don't listen to Rock, 'cause it's Satan's own vice
And the people who sing it are not very nice
Oh can you imagine, it fills us with dread
Me and the Bangles all sharing a bed!  //YEAH!// (5)

We don't mess with computers, they're the Devil's own thing
And one little byte puts your mind in a sling!
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a computer-nerd taking byte after byte!  (5)

We don't play medieval, we think it's a cult
They wear funny clothing; they're quite difficult.
Oh can you imagine a worse thing to say
Than to say you're a member of the SCA?   (5)

So drinking and eating and loving you see,
Are bound to destroy Spi-ri-tu-al-i-ty.
Our tastes are austere and our virtue is sure.
We don't have much fun, but our honor is pure. (1)

We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band
On the right side of Temperance we do take our stand
We masturbate daily because we do think
That once you start screwing, you're likely to drink! (9)

Note: I think tht this wil be about it for this song. RG

@drink
filename[ AWAYRUM3
play.exe AWAYRUM3
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AWAY WITH RUM (more verses)

We never touch honey, it turns into mead,
And stealing from insects is the worst sort of greed
Oh can you imagine a man with DTs
Pursued by a swarm of mad, pink bumblebees?

We never use lotion when we shave our chins
Cause osmosis lets all the alcohol in
Can you imagine what people will say
When you're under the basin, osmosed for the day?


We never eat chocolate because it has nuts
And the least little bite turns a girl to a slut
Oh can you imagine a sorrier mess
Than a girl eating chocolate and trying to undress?

We never eat peaches because they ferment
And a peach will ferment with the least little dent
Oh an you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man eating peaches until he gets tight?

Oh we-ee have Viceroy for the ma-an who thinks (dated! 1964)
And we-ee have Ban for the man who stinks
But thinking and stinking they don't bother me
I take care of both with Te-e-ton Tea!


We don't drink Coke or Pepsi, they're made from cocaine,
And you might as well shoot it right into your vein.
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier bind
Than rotting your teeth while blowing your mind. (1)

We never drop tea, cause it comes from a pot,
And that could be evil as likely as not,
We don't mind the taste, but it's really bad news,
To get busted for holding what Tom Lipton brews. (1)

We don't step on grapes because that's making wine,
And one single stomp turns a man to a swine.
Can you imagine a fouler defeat,
Than a man getting stonkered by licking his feet? (1)

Shun girls who are witty and pretty and kind
There's nothing like love for corrupting your mind.
At least in -our- circle it just isn't done
Our kids are adopted; we -never- have fun. (1)

We don't buy any cereal because its called mush
And one little bite turns a kid to a lush
Oh, can you imagine the pain of a Ma
To watch little Junior act just like his Pa! (2)

We don't take any rub-downs, stiff muscles to cure
Because alcohol turns a man to a boor
O, can you imagine a sorrier fate:
Than a man getting mass-aged 'till he can't stand up straight? (2)

We don't allow backrubs, we think they're a crime
We will always condemn them in song or in rhyme
An alcohol backrub is worse than straight gin:
When you think of the liquor absorbed thru your skin! (4)

We don't watch television because its a sin
To exhibit the body of a nude Rin-Tin-Tin
And all those bad cowboys a-shooting their guns!
And a-shooting again when they show the re-runs! (3)

When you go out dining, you're tempted to eat
All the delicacies on a menu elite
Remember this warning, on wine we've a ban;
Try spaghetti and meatballs and -not- coq au vin! (4)

We never drink milk, that's where kumiss comes from
And one tiny sip makes a Mongoloid bum!
Oh, can you imagine a sadder disgrace
Than a stone blind drunk Mongol with milk on his face? (5)

We never touch coffee, it makes our eyes gleam
At least, when they add irish whiskey and cream
Oh, can you imagine a fate so unkind
Than slugging down coffee, and getting stone-blind? (6)

Since eggnog is evil, we never eat eggs
Give way to one sin and who knows what comes neggst?
There might be excuses for brandy or gin
But who wants DTs on account of some hen? (6)

We wish you'd avoid putting ice in your drink
It harms your intestines and palate, we think
And if you escape that, it still isn't nice
To wake up hung over because of bad ice! (6)

We never drink water, they mix it with gin
Just one little sip and a man starts to grin
Oh, can you imagine a sillier clunk
Than a man swigging water until he's geshtunk? (6)

Now if you ride railroads with bar-cars on trains
You're giving the Devil the key to your brains
Think of a story that's sadder to tell
Than to start from Grand Central and wind up in Hell! (7)

We never eat jelly, they make it with wine
And one little bite turns a man to a swine
Can't you envision, in Hell he will roast,
That teen-ager drunk on his jelly and toast! (8)

We never use mouthwash, we know very well
That those who taste alcohol go straight to Hell
Oh, can you imagine a sorrier scene
Than a man down in Hell 'cause he used Listerine? (8)

We never eat choc'late, 'cause its just like sex
The endorphins will make you a moral wreck
You'll finish the bag-full, all covered with sweat....
And then you just -gotta- have a cigarette! (5)

We don't read Science-Fiction, 'cause its too complex
And Heinlein and Farmer just talk about sex!
That Lazarus Long is a Dirty Old Man
He's a Bad Example to set for a Fan! (5)

We never drink tea, for they mix it with wine
And one little drink turns a man to a swine
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a man drinking tea, and singing all night? (0)

We never use money, 'cause that's gam-bol-in'
And that, my good friends, is surely a SIN
Our life may be simple, it's surely a bore
But what else can you do when you tend to be poor? (0)

We never sing folk (filk) songs, they're evil and crude
They celebrate Sin, and their language is lewd
The language is shocking, the politics vile
And their grammar and rhetoric ain't got no style! (6)

When you meet a folk (filk) singer, you haven't much choice
But to sit there and listen while they prove they have no voice
And the shockingest thing to imagine by far
Is a girl with a G-string....upon her guitar! (3)

We don't listen to filk songs, it isn't our dish
We don't like Bob Kanefski, and -hate- Leslie Fish!
We know all the filkers will wind up in Hell
And besides, all them filksongs have a real Fish-y smell!  (5)

We don't listen to Rock, 'cause it's Satan's own vice
And the people who sing it are not very nice
Oh can you imagine, it fills us with dread
Me and the Bangles all sharing a bed!  //YEAH!// (5)

We don't mess with computers, they're the Devil's own thing
And one little byte puts your mind in a sling!
Oh can you imagine a sorrier sight
Than a computer-nerd taking byte after byte!  (5)

We don't play medieval, we think it's a cult
They wear funny clothing; they're quite difficult.
Oh can you imagine a worse thing to say
Than to say you're a member of the SCA?   (5)

So drinking and eating and loving you see,
Are bound to destroy Spi-ri-tu-al-i-ty.
Our tastes are austere and our virtue is sure.
We don't have much fun, but our honor is pure. (1)

We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band
On the right side of Temperance we do take our stand
We masturbate daily because we do think
That once you start screwing, you're likely to drink! (9)


  Known source credits:

Stephen Whitis, Devera and Martin Marcus, Julius Kogan,
Pat Herson, Joe Bethancourt, Dick Eney, Mark Glasser,
Paula Smith, Jim Landau

@drink
filename[ AWAYRUM4
play.exe AWAYRUM3
SEVERAL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AYE WAKIN OH

Summer is a pleasant time
Flowers of every color
The water is out the ____
And I long for my true lover

     Aye wakin' oh
     Wakin' I am weary
     Sleep I can get none
     For thinking on my dearie
     Aye wakin' oh

When first she came to town
The called her Grace MacFarland
But now she's gone away
They call her all folks darlin'

     CHORUS
When I sleep I dream
And when I wake, I'm weary
Sleep I can get none
For thinking on my dearie

     CHORUS

Her father loves her well
Her mother loves her better
And I love the lass myself
Woe is me, I can not get her

     CHORUS

Recorded by Knowe-O-Deil



Note: A different version appears in the Scottish Students
Songbook (1929 edition):
     Aye Waukin' O!
O, I am wat, wat
O I am wat and weary;
Yet fain would I rise and rin,
If I thocht I would meet my dearie.

 cho:     Ay waukin', O
          Waukin' aye and weary,
          Sleep I can get nane
          For thinkin' o' my dearie.
          Aye waukin' O!

Simmer's a pleasant time
Flowers o' ev'ry colour
The water rins ower the heugh,
And I long for my true lover

cho:

When I sleep I dream
When I wauk I'm eerie,
Sleep I can get nane
For thinkin' o' my dearie.

cho:

Lanely nicht comes on
A' the lave are sleepin'
I think on my true love
And bleer my een wi' greetin'.

Tune: Ay waukin O (287)
@love
filename[ AYEWAKIN
play.exe AYEWAKIN
   (tune from second source listed)
DC, RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
AZEKATARLE

South African Liberation song, widely sung after the events in
Sharpville in 1958 when protestors were shot at and charged by
the military.
From Leon Rosselson, Roy Bailey and Frankie Armstrong.

Ah zee ka tar (le), no maz ya boz (zhwa)
See see mis ay ling koo loo lay ko
Ah zee ka tar (le), no maz ya boz (zhwa)
See see mis ay ling koo loo lay ko

Oon say ma lung twai lo
on say ma lung twai lo
Oon fo na ma to da
on fo na ma to da
Oon say ma lung twai lo
on say ma lung twai lo
Oon fo na ma to da
on fo na ma to da

Te na ban twa na ba zay ah preeka
See see mees ay ling koo loo lay ko
Te na ban twa na ba zay ah preeka
See see mees ay ling koo loo lay ko

We do not care if we got to prison
It is for freedom that we gladly go

A heavy load, a heavy load
And it will take some real strength

We are the children of Africa
It is for freedom that we gladly go

@Africa @freedom
filename[ AZEKTRLE
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
                   Advice for Valentine's Day
                    (Dave Diamond)

Beware the sneaky Married Man,
He will ensnare you if he can.
Although with age and fat he creaks,
Illicit love he vainly seeks.
     His wife, you'll often hear him tell,
     "Can't understand".  Alas, too well
     She understands, but has the sense
     To trust in his incompetence.
He shakes with lust, he reeks of vice,
In fact he isn't very nice.
Yes, yes, it's true, and I'm that swine,
But please, please, be my Valentine.

filename[ VALENTIN
DD
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
                     Advice to the Lovelorn
                          (John Fryer)

I'm Blue-eyes of Scunthorpe, I need some advice,
For I've been a bad girl (why was it so nice?),
I've no one to turn to in this modern age;
So all that is left is the Lonely Hearts Page,
And Miss Home, Home, Evelyn Home.

Dear Evelyn Home, I've a problem for you,
I've slept with my boyfriend (he slept with me too),
His parents found out and blamed it on me,
And completely ignore me when I go to tea,
Dear Miss Home, Home, Evelyn Home.

Should I say I'm sorry, not do it again,
Refrain from all romance and be home by ten?
My boy says, ``Don't do it, you might drive them to
Informing your parents, then what would you do?''
Dear Miss Home, Home, Evelyn Home.

Dear Blue-eyes of Scunthorpe, I can't understand
Why you and you only are taking a stand,
It takes two to go wrong, apportion the guilt;
Your boyfriend was in it, right up to the hilt,
Says Miss Home, Home, Evelyn Home.

Dear blue-eyes of Scunthorpe, hear what I must state,
For grief and contrition it's really too late,
Unless you get married as soon as you can,
You'll regret having had carnal knowledge of man,

O dear, sighs Miss Home, as she lays down her pen,
The troubles these young women have with their men;
It's sordid, immoral, and I really can't see
Why the hell all these things never happened to me,

@love
filename[ EVLNHOME
play.exe DERRYDWN
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
Andro and his Cutty Gun

Blyth, blyth, blyth, was she,
Blyth was she but and ben;
And well she loo'd a Hawick gill,
And leugh to see a tappit-hen.
She took me in and set me down,
And heght to keep me lawin-free;
But cunning carlin'that she was,
She gart me birle my bawbee.

We loo'd the liquor well enough;
But wae's my heart my cash was done,
Before that I had quenched my drouth,
And laith I was to pawn my shoon.
When we had three times toomed our stoup,
And the neist chappin new begun,
In started, to heeze up our hope,
Young Andro wi' his cutty gun.
The Carlin' brought her kebbuck ben,
With girdle-cakes well toasted brown;
Well does the canny kimmer ken,
They gar the scuds gae glibber down.
We ca'd the bicker aft about,
Till dawning we ne'er lee'd our bun
And ay the cleanest drinker out
Was Andro wi' his cutty gun.

He did like ony mavis sing,
And as I in his oxter sat,
He ca'd me ay his bonnie thing,
And mony a sappy kiss I gat.
I hae been east, I hae been west
I hae been far ayont the sun,
But the blythest lad that e'er I saw
Was Andro wi' his cutty gun.

See also <BLYHWSHE>
@Scots @drink
filename[ CUTTYGUN
play.exe BLYHWSHE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
                 Around Cape Horn

SOURCE:          Bob Pfeffer

SOURCE'S SOURCE: Lisa Null

COMMENTS:        From Gale Huntington

TEXT:
  D                   A7        D
Around Cape Horn the young men go
  A7                D
When the young men go away
  A7                   D
Then the young girls dress up neat
  D                            G
They go a-cruisin' down the street
           A7
REFRAIN:  Right fol day, fol-de-diddle day
           A7                               D
          Right fol right-o, fol-de-diddle day

Far from the fields are the young men gone
Far from home and all forlorn
Wish to God they'd never been born
For to go out cruisin' round Cape Horn ...

And when those young men do come home
This is the story that they hear
"Welcome home, you need not fear
No one has courted me, my dear." ...

Bright false smiles they like for to wear
Bright false bows in long false hair
White satin shoe with a silver bow
Take those young men all in tow ...

@sailor
filename[ CAPEHORN
play.exe CAPEHORN
RPf
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
            At the Foot of Yonder Mountain

At the foot of yonder mountain there runs a clear stream,
At the foot of yonder mountain there lives a fair queen;
She's handsome, she's proper, and her ways are complete.
I ask no better pastime than to be with my sweet.

But wby sbe won't have me l well understand;
She wants some freeholder and l bave no land.
I cannot maintain her on silver and gold,
And all the other fine things that my love's bouse should hold.

Oh I wish I were a penman and could write a fine hand!
I would write my love a letter from this distant land.
I'd send it by the waters just for to let her know
That I think of pretty Mary wherever I go.

Oh I wish I were a bird and had wings and could fly,
It's to my love's dwelling this night I'd draw nigh.
I'd sit in her window all night long and cry
That for love of pretty Mary I gladly would die.

From American Folk Tales and Songs, Chase. Collected from Horton
     Barker.
@love
filename[ YONDRMTN
play.exe YONDRMTN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
Auld Matrons

My love she is a gentlewoman
Has her living by the seam
I ken nae how she is provided
This nicht for me and my foot-groom

Willie's gane tae Annie's bower door
And tirled gently at the pin
Sleep ye or wake ye, my dear Annie?
Open the door and let me in

Wi' her white fingers lang and sma'
She's lifted gently at the pin
Flang her arms a' aboot him
Kindly welcomed Willie in

O, will ye gang tae cairds or dice
Willie will ye gang tae play
Or will ye gang tae a weel-made bed
And lie and sleep awhile till day?

My love Annie, my dear Annie
I would be at your desire
If it wasna for yon auld matrons
Sitting by the kitchen fire

Willie dear, keep up your hairt
Keep up your hairt and dinna fear
For seven year and mair hae passed
Since last her feet did file the fleer

They hadna kissed nor gi'en love's handsel
The way of lovers when they meet
When up arose yon auld matrons
And sae weel she spread her feet

O woe befa' yon auld matrons
Sae clever as she took the gate
And she's gane up yon high, high hill
And chappit at the sheriff's yett

Sleep ye or wake ye, my good lord
And are ye no your bower within?
There's a knicht in bed wi' your dochter
And I fear she's gotten wrang

Ye'll gae doon through Kelso toon
And wauken a' my merry men
And when ye hae this wark weel done
Then I will come and tak' command

She's done her doon through Kelso toon
And waukened a' his merry men
And when she has this wark well doon
Then he has come and ta'en command

He has his horse wi' corn foddered
A' his men were armed in mail
He's gi'en auld matrons half a mark
Tae lead his men oot o'er the hill

Willie slept but Annie waukened
When she heard their blades ring
She shook her Willie by the shouther
Rise, my love, ye sleep o'er lang

O gi'es nae sign my ain dear lassie
Till I've pit on my shooting gear
Then I wadna fear the King himsel'
Though he and a' his men were here

They shot their arrows through the window
Ane o' them grazed Willie's broo
The maid she wept and tore her hair,
Says, this can never do.

Then they shot in, and he shot out,
The bow brunt Willie's hand;
But aye he kissed her ruby lips,
Said, My dear, thinkna lang.

He set his horn to his mouth,
And has blawn loud and shrill,
And He's call'd on his brother John,
In Ringlewood be lay still.

The first an shot that Lord John shot,
He wound fifty and fifteen ;
The next an shot that Lord John shot,
He ca'd out the sheriff's een.

O some o you lend me an arm,
Some o you lend me twa;
And they that came for strife this day,
Take horse, ride fast awa.

But wa mat fa yon, auld matrons
An ill death mat ye dee
I'll burn ye on yon high hill-head
Blaw yer ashes on the sea.

Child #249
@nightvisit @fight
filename[ OLDMATRO
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BA WEE BIRDIE

     Ba, wee birdie, birdie;
       Ba, wee birdie, croon;
     The ewes are awa to the siller parks,
       The kye's amang the broom;
     The wee bits o' yowes to the heathery knowes,
       They'll no be back till noon;
     If they dinna get something ere they gang out,
       Their wee pipes will be toom.
     ________________________________________________________

     Chambers PRS (1847), 187; (1870), 24, from the west of
     Scotland.  Cf. "Hush-a-ba birdie, croon".

@Scots @kids @bird
filename[ BABIRDIE
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BA, BA, Lammie Noo

     Ba, ba, lammie noo,
     Cuddle doon tae mammie,
     Trowies canna tak thoo,
     Hushie ba, lammie;
     He bonnie, peerie bird
     Sleepin in me bosie.
     ________________________________________________________

     Scotsgate (Hendry & Stephen, 1982), 39; from Orkney.

@Scots @lullaby
filename[ HUSHLAMI
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BABBITY BOWSTER

     1.
     Wha learned you to dance
       Babbity Bowster, Babbity Bowster,
     Wha learned you to dance,
       Babbity Bowster brawly?

     My minnie learned me to dance,
       Babbity Bowster, Babbity Bowster,
     My minnie learned me to dance,
       Babbity Bowster brawly.

     Wha ga'e you the keys to keep,
       Babbity Bowster, Babbity Bowster,
     Wha ga'e you the keys to keep,
       Babbity Bowster brawly?

     My minnie ga'e me the keys to keep,
       Babbity Bowster, Babbity Bowster,
     My minnie ga'e me the keys to keep,
       Babbity Bowster brawly.

     Kneel down and kiss the ground,
       Kiss the ground, kiss the ground,
     Kneel down and kiss the ground,
       Kiss the bonnie wee lassie.

     2.
     Wha learned you to dance,
     You to dance, you to dance,
     Wha learned you to dance,
     A country bumpkin brawly?

     My mither learned me when I was young,
     When I was young, when I was young,
     My mither learned me when I was young,
     The country bumpkin brawly.

     3.
     Wha learned you to dance,
       You to dance, you to dance?
     Wha learned you to dance,
       Babbity Bowster brawly?

     My minnie learned me to dance,
       Me to dance, me to dance;
     My minnie learned me to dance,
       Babbity Bowster brawly.

     [similarly:]

     Wha ga'e you the keys to keep. . .

     My minnie ga'e me the keys to keep. . .

     One, twa, three, B, ba, Babbity,
       Babbity Bowster neatly;
     Kneel down, kiss the ground,
       An' kiss the bonnie lassie [or laddie].
     _______________________________________________________

     (1) Chambers SSPB (1862, "Babity Bowster", with music
     (5x4 lines); whence PRS, 1870, 36), "as sung by girls
     playing on the streets, in Glasgow", with last stanza
     from Ford CR, 61 ff., who says:

          As for "Bab at the Bowster" (more generally
     pronounced "Babbity Bowster"), I am not sure but that
     grown people have engaged in it more than wee folks
     have.  Indeed, it is not improbable that the young
     borrowed this originally from the old, by observation.
     Nowadays, undoubtedly, we know it exclusively as a
     child's play.  But yet, within the memory of living men,
     it was the regular custom in country places nearly all
     over Scotland to wind up every dancing-ball with "Bab at
     the Bowster."  No wedding dance, no Handsel Monday ball,
     would have been esteemed complete without it; and I have
     seen it performed at both, less than forty years ago.
     Performed by old or young, however, the mode is the
     same.  The girls sit down on one side of the barn or
     square, the boys on the other.  A boy takes a
     handkerchief--it is regularly a male who starts this
     play--and while dancing up and down before the girls,
     all sing:- [song follows].
          By the time the last verse has been reached the boy
     has fixed on his partner, and at the command to "kneel
     down and kiss the ground" he spreads the handkerchief on
     the floor at the girl's feet, on which both immediately
     kneel.  A kiss ensues, even though it should obtained
     after a struggle; then the boy marches away round and
     round followed by the girl, while all again sing the
     song.  By the time the last verse is again reached, the
     girl in turn has selected the next boy, but does not
     kneel down before him.  She simply throws the
     handkerchief in his lap, and immediately joins her own
     partner by taking his arm.  If, however, she can be
     overtaken before she joins her partner, a penalty kiss
     may be enforced.  Second boy selects second girl as tyhe
     first did the first girl, and pair after pair is formed
     in the same fashion until all are up and marching arm-
     in-arm round the room, or square, when the game is
     finished.  At adult assemblies, I should state, even as
     the company paired in this dance, they departed for
     home.

     Chambers' 4 stanzas in NAE (1932), 19; Moffat 50 TSNR
(1933), 13, with music; Montgomerie SNR (1946), 88 (no. 110), +
music.  Cf."Be Baw Babbity".  Jamieson calls "Bab at the
bowster, or Bab wi' the bowster, a very old Scottish dance,
now almost out of use; formerly the last dance at weddings
and merry-makings."
     Rymour Club Misc. I (1906-11), 52, has "Cocky Breeky",
with stanzas 1-2, substituting "C.B." for "B.B." "Sung when
girls are dancing with the back edge of their dress pulled
forward between their legs, giving the effect of `breeks' to
the garment."
     (2) from MacTaggart, Sc. Gall. Enc. (1824), 101, under
Bumpkin brawly: "An old dance, the dance which always
ends balls; the same with the `Cushion' almost. .  . .
The tune of this song is always played to the dance."
He does not record the tune; however, it has to be The
Country Bumpkin (f m r t, s, etc.).
     (3) Gomme I.9, s.v.  "Babbity Bowster" from Biggar;
the tune given = d d d m s m d ("Mulberry Bush").  The
informant, W.H./ Ballantyne, said it took place at the
end of a country ball:

The lads all sat on one side and the girls on the other.
It began with a boy taking a handkerchief and dancing
before the girls, singing the first verse.  Selecting
one of the girls, he threw the handkerchief into her
lap, or put it round her neck, holding both ends
himself.  Some spread the handkerchief on the floor at
the feet of the girl.  The object in either case was to
secure a kiss, which, however, was not given without a
struggle, the girls cheering their companion at every
unsuccessful attempt which the boy made.  A girl then
took the handkerchief, singing the next verse, and
having thrown the handkerchief to one of the boys, she
went off to her own side among the girls, and was
pursued by the chosen boy.  When all were thus paired,
they formed a line, facing each other, and danced
somewhat like the country dance of Sir Roger [i.e. "Sir
Roger de Coverley", in Scotland called "The Haymakers",
and in the States known as "The Virginia Reel"].
Ballantyne says a bolster or pillow was at one time
always used; Gomme refers to N.& Q. ii.518: it was then
(1850) danced with a handkerchief instead of a cushion as
formerly, and no words were used; but later correspondents
contradict this; cf. also N. & Q. iii.282.
Upper Clydesdale version is in Nimmo, SBC (1882), 194; for
"Babbity Bowster brawly" this has "Caperin' Betsy Ben, O"
(line 2); and "and that richt weel ye ken, jo" (line 4); 2
stanzas.
     Gomme (p. 11) adds some suggestions as to its origin and
evolution: "First, that the dance was originally the
indication at a marriage ceremony for the bride and
bridegroom to retire with `the bowster' to the nuptial couch.
Secondly, that it has degenerated in Southern Britain to the
ordinary `Drop Handkerchief' games of kiss in the ring.  The
preservation of this `Bab at the Bowster' example gives the
clue both to the origin of the present game in an obsolete
marriage custom, and to the descent of the game to its latest
form."  She compares the "Cushion Dance", which see there,
pp. 87-94.
With the "keys to keep", cf. "Hurrah, hurrah, a ranogate".
Cf. also "Lay the Cushion Doon".
There are three tunes: (A) cognate with "The Country Bumpkin"
("Ninesome Reel" tune).  In Maclagan, Games and Diversions of
Argyleshire (1901), 57. [See the air in Scottish Studies, I
(1957), 174. SSPB, 244. Also: Kerr's Merry Melodies, 49;
Nelson's Scottish Song Book 1; as Country Bumpkin in Stewart,
71. Also in The Cobbler's Opera, 1729; Aird's Collection,
1782, as Bab at the Bowster.]
The country dance (as "The Bumpkin") is in RSCDS Book 2, no.
2, "collected in the town of Lanark."  Also described in The
Companion to the Reticule, ca. 1820.  Dance published in
Walsh's Caledonian Country Dances 1748 to 1760. See also J.F.
& T.M. Flett's article in Scottish Studies IX.i (1965), 85-
90, with bibliog.; and Thurston on Ninesome Reel, Scotland's
Dances (1954), 39-40.
To this tune, William Watt (d. 1859) wrote "Bab at the
Bowster", beginning "Lassie, whare were ye yestreen" (in
Poems, 1860, 80).  Other songs include "The Cooper o' Cuddy"
in the Merry Muses; "Kitty Reid's House", etc.
(B) the second tune, usually called Nancy Dawson, is  cognate
with "Here we go round the Jing-a-ring", in Gomme I.9;
Scottish Studies, as above, ibid.; see "Merry ma tanzie", and
note to "Eppie Marly".
(C) The third tune is that of the Jacobite song "Will ye go
to Sheriffmuir" (see note to "Katie Beardie").

@playparty @Scots
filename[ BABOWSTR
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BABE OF BETHLEHEM

Ye nations all, on you I call, come hear this declaration,
And don't refuse this glorious news of Jesus and salvation.
To royal Jews came first the news of Christ the great Messiah,
As was foretold by prophets old, Isaiah, Jeremiah.

To Abraham the promise came, and to his seed for ever,
A light to shine in Isaac's line, by Scripture we discover;
Hail, promised morn! the Saviour's born, the glorious Mediator.
God's blessed word made flesh and blood, assumed the human nature.

His parents poor in earthly store, to entertain the stranger
They found no bed to lay his head, but in the ox's manger:
No royal things, as used by kings, were seen by those that found him
But in the hay the stranger lay, with swaddling bands around him

On the same night a glorious light to shepherds there appeared,
Bright angels came in shining flame, they saw and greatly feared
The angels said:  Be not afraid, although we much alarm you,
We do appear good news to bear, as now we will inform you.

The city's name is Bethlehem, in which God has appointed,
This glorious morn a Saviour's born, for him God has anointed;
By this you'll know, if you will go, to see this little stranger,
His lovely charms in Mary's arms, both lying in a manger.

When this was said, straightway was made a glorious sound from heaven
Each flaming tongue an anthem sung: To men a Saviour's given,
In Jesus' name, the glorious theme, we elevate our voices,
At Jesus' birth be peace on earth, meanwhile all heaven rejoices.

Then with delight they took their flight, and wing'd their way to glory,
The shepherds gazed and were amazed, to hear the pleasing story;
To Bethlehem they quickly came, the glorious news to carry,
And in the stall they found them all, Joseph, the Babe, and Mary.

The shepherds then return'd again to their own habitation,
With joy of heart they did depart, now they have found salvation.
Glory they cry, to God on high, who sent his Son to save us.
This glorious morn the Saviour's born, his name is Christ Jesus.

From The Southern Harmony and Musical Companion
@religious @Xmas @seasonal
filename[ BABEBETH
play.exe BABEBETH
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BABES IN THE MILL
  by Dorsey Dixon

I used to be a factory hand when things were moving slow
When children worked in cotton mills, each morning had to go
Every morning just at five the whistle blew on time
And called them babies out of bed at the age of eight and nine

  Come out of bed, little sleepy head
  And get you a bite to eat
  The factory whistle's calling you
  There's no more time to sleep

The children all grew up unlearned, they never went to school,
They never learned to read or write, but they learned to spin and
   spool
Every time I close my eyes, I see that picture still,
When textile work was carried on with babies in the mill.

Chorus

To their jobs those little ones were strictly forced to go,
Those babies had to be on time through rain and sleet and snow,
Many times when things went wrong their bosses often frowned,
Many times those little ones was kicked and shoved around.

Chorus

Old Timer can't you see that scene, that though the years go by
Those babies all went on the job, the same as you and I
I know you're glad that things have changed, and we have lots of
   fun
As we go in and do the jobs that babies used to run

Chorus

Copyright Dorsey Dixon Estate
@work @mill @industry
printed in Here's to the women
filename[ BABEMILL
play.exe BABEMILL
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BABES IN THE WOOD 2

Oh, don't you remember, a long time ago
When two little babes, their names I don't know,
Were stolen away one bright summer day
And lost in the woods, I've heard people say.

And when it was night, oh, sad was their plight
The moon had gone down, the stars gave no light;
They sobbed and they sighed, and bitterly cried
Then the poor little babes, they lay down and died.

And when they were dead the robins so red
Brought strawberry leaves and over them spread
And sang them a song, the whole summer long
Poor babes in the wood, who never did wrong.

Note: An earlier version was printed in Percy's Reliques;
     Percy attributed it to Rob. Tarrington, 1601 RG

From Ozark Folksongs, Randolph
Collected from Marie Wilbur, Pineville MO 1929
@children @death
filename[ BABWOOD2
play.exe BABWOOD2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BABY BLUE FORD

I'm a little hunk of tin
No one knows what I've been in
Got four wheels and a running board
I'm a Ford, a Ford, a Ford

Chug, chug, rattle, rattle, crash, crash, bang, bang
Urca, urca, I'm a Ford, a baby blue Ford

HENRY FORD

Henry Ford was a grand old man
Had four wheels and an old tin can
Put 'em together and the damn thing ran
Henry Ford was a grand old man

@kids @industry
filename[ BLUEFORD
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
              BABY-ROCKING MEDLEY  (Rosalie Sorrels)

All right, it's 5:30 in the morning.  That kid has not quit
howling now for six hours.  You're getting sort of desperate,
breaking out into a cold sweat because you know that all those
other kids are going to get up in about another half hour and
they're going to demand cereal and peanut sandwiches and milk.
And you forgot to get milk.  Oh, God.  All the paregoric is gone.
It's gone because you drank it.  Things are getting awful bad and
you need something else.  Every culture's got one:  it's the
hostile baby-rocking song.  You just can't keep all that stuff
bottled up inside yourself.  You need to let it out some way, or
you'd get strange . . . punch the baby in the mouth . . . and you
can't do that.  You'd get an awful big ticket for it, and it
makes you feel lousy.  So you take that baby and you rock it
firmly, smile sweetly . . . and you sing the hostile baby-rocking
song:

This is the day we give babies away
With a half a pound of tea
You just open the lid, and out pops the kid
With a twelve month guarantee.

This is the day we give babies away
With a half a pound of tea
If you know any ladies who want any babies
Just send them round to me

There's an island where out in the sea
Where babies grow up on the trees
It's oh so much fun, to swing in the sun
But you have to watch out if you sneeze, you sneeze
You have to watch out if you sneeze

You have to watch out if you sneeze
'Cause swinging up there in the breeze
If you happen to cough, you might very well fall off
And tumble down flop on your knees, your knees
And tumble down flop on your knees.
And when the stormy winds wail
And the breezes blow up in a gale
There's oh such a plopping and flopping and dropping
And fat little babies just hail, just hail
And fat little babies just hail.

And the babies lie there in a pile
And grownups come after a while
And they always pass by any babies that cry
They take only babies that smile, that smile
Take triplets or twins if they'll smile

There's an island where out in the sea
Where babies grow up on the trees
It's oh so much fun, to swing in the sun
But you have to watch out if you sneeze, you sneeze
You have to watch out if you sneeze

@kids @lullaby
filename[ HOSBABY
DC, MC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BABYLON IS FALLING
(Henry Clay Work)

Way up in the corn field, where you hear the thunder
That is our old forty pounder gun,
When the shells are missin' them, we load with pumpkins
All the same to make the cowards run.

cho: Look out thar now!
     We's a-gwine to shoot!
     Look out thar now!
     Don't you understand?
     Babylon is fallin', Babylon is fallin'
     And we's a-gwine to occupy  the land.

Old Massa was a colonel in the rebel army
Jest before he come to run away,
But his darlin' darkies didn't like his doin's
So they up an' tuck him prisoner t'other day.

FRom Ozark Folksongs, Randolph
Collected from Jy.F. Gould 1926, who heard it sung by Federal
     troops in 1864.
@America @war @Civil
filename[ BBLNFALL
play.exe BBLNFALL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BABYLON, OR THE BONNIE BANKS O' FORDIE

There were three sisters, they lived in a bower
   Sing Anna, sing Margaret, sing Marjorie
The youngest o them was the fairest flower
   And the dew goes thro the wood, gay ladie

The oldest of them she's to the wood gane
To seek a braw leaf and to bring it hame

There she met with an outlyer bold
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold

'Istow a maid or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead or thy sweet life?'

'O kind sir, if I hae't at my will
I'll twinn with my life, keep my maidenhead still'

He's taen out his we pen-knife,
He's twinned this young lady of her sweet life

He wiped his knife along the dew;
But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.

The second of them she's to the wood gane,
To seek her old sister, and to bring her hame.

There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woode so cold.

'Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead, or thy sweet life?'

'O kind sir, if I hae't at my will,
I'll twinn with  my life, keep my maidenhead still'

He's taen out his we pen-knife
He's twinned this young lady of her sweet life

He wiped his knife along the dew;
But the more he wiped, the redder it grew.

The youngest of them she's to the wood gane,
To seek her two sisters, and to bring them hame.

There she met with an outlyer bold,
Lies many long nights in the woods so cold.

'Istow a maid, or istow a wife?
Wiltow twinn with thy maidenhead or thy sweet life?'

'If my three brethren they were here
Such questions as these thou durst nae speer.'

'Pray, what may thy three brethren be,
That I durst na mak so bold with thee?'

'The eldest o them is a minister bred,
He teaches the people from evil to good.

'The second o them is a ploughman good
He ploughs the land for his livelihood.

'The youngest of them is an outlyer bold
Lies many a long night in the woods so cold'

He stuck his knife then into the ground
He took a long race, let himself fall on.

Child #14
@outlaw @murder @family
filename[ VIRGIBN3
play.exe VIRGIBN3
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACHELOR'S HALL

I rode seven horses all to death
I rode them till they had no breath
I wore five saddles to the trees
But none of those girls would marry me

Those women will fret those women will fuss
They'll spend five hours before their glass
The Devil take all I'll have none at all
Always stay single, keep Bachelor's Hall

     Stay, stay close to my door
     Bachelor's Hall, Bachelor's Hall
     I'll always stay single, keep Bachelor's Hall

The women round here they live by the door
They hear a word and repeat it twice o'er
Then they add to it as much as they please
Always stay single, a bachelor man

Bachelor's Hall is always the best
If you're sick, drunk or sober it's always a rest
No woman to scold you no children to bawl
Always stay single, keep Bachelor's Hall

@marriage
filename[ BACHHALL
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACHELOR'S LAMENT or TAK' PITY ON ME


Oh ladies come listen to my sad lament
And as sure as I'm living you'll never repent
For oh I am wearied, I doubt I will dee
Unless some dear lassie tak' pity on me

   Tak' pity on me, tak' pity on me
   For oh I am wearied, och hey I could dee
   Oh what I wad promise, oh what I wad gie
   If some bonnie lassie wad tak' pity on me

My stockings is oot at the heels and the tees
They are some like mysel' they hiv see better days
My breeks they are torn, in fact I could flee
Oh come bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

I sit in my garret the hale evening lang
And croon to mysel' some bit verse o' a sang
But this ane I fear I may sing til I dee
Oh come bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

I've sat and I've sabbit, I've sabbit and sat
And believe me, my dearies, I've groused and I've grat
Just like a wee bairnie atween twa and three
Oh come bonnie lassie, tak' pity on me

I'll nae be peculiar for beauty or wealth
Just a clean tidy body in perfect good health
And her I will promise, oh come or ye see
Oh come bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

I was aince a braw chap, but that days is awa'
When I whistled and sang til the gloamin' did fa'
Just like a wee birdie when up in a tree
Oh come bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

Aye it's true they're awa, for I ken I'm growing auld
My whiskers is gray and my croon geting bald
But I'd yet be as happy as a lamb on a lea
Oh come bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

It cam in my head as I sat doon the nicht
On a cheer by the fire my tobacco to licht
If there is a lassie amang a' that I see
Wad come some fine day and tak' pity on me

I'm a good healthy chap and my features look fine
I stand five fit eicht, my age forty-nine
Altho' I'm nae laird, I'm as happy as can be
If some bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

So noo, my dear lass, if ye will but consent
To tak' pity on me, ye will stop my lament
Ye will stop my lament, then my mind will be free
Oh come bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

So come, bonnie lassie, oh come in the noo
I'll ca' ye my dearie, my duckie, my doo
My sweet little lammie, tho' big ye may be
Oh come bonnie lassie tak' pity on me

@Scots
see also OLDMAID, MAUNWIFE
printed in Gavin Grieg
filename[ BACHLOR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACK AND SIDE GO BARE
                Early English Lyrics
       (Chambers & Sedgewick; October House)

cho. Back and side go bare, go bare
     Both hand and foot go cold,
     But belly, God send thee good ale enough,
     Whether it be new or old!

But if that I may have truly
  Good Ale my belly full,
I shall look like one, by sweet Saint John,
  Were shorn against the wool.
Though I go bare, take ye no care
  I am nothing cold;
I stuff my skin so full within
  Of jolly good ale and old.

I cannot eat but little meat,
  My stomach is not good;
But sure I think that I could drink
  With him that weareth an hood.
Drink is my life; Although my wife
  Some time do chide and scold.
Yet spare I not to ply the pot
  Of jolly etc.

I love no roast but a brown toast,
  Or a crab in the fire.
A little bread will do me stead,
  Much bread I never desire.
Nor frost, nor snow nor wind, I trow
  Can hurt me if it wold,
When I am wrapped within and lapped
  With jolly etc.

I care right nought, I take no thought
  For clothes to keep me warm;
Have I good drink, I surely think
  Nothing can do me harm.
For truly than I fear no man,
  Be he never so bold,
When I am armed and thoroughly warmed
  With jolly etc.

But now and then I curse and ban
  They make their ale so small.
God give them care and evil to fare
   They stry the malt and all.      (stry=destroy)
Such peevish pew, I tell you true
  Not for a crown of gold
There cometh one sip within my lip
  Whether it be new or old.

Good ale and strong maketh me among
  Full jocund and full light,
That oft I sleep and take no keep
  From morning until night.
Then start I up and flee to the cup
  The right way on I hold;
My thirst to staunch, I fill my paunch
  With jolly etc.

And Kit, my wife, that as her life
  Loveth well good ale to seek,
Full oft drinketh she, that ye may see
  The tears run down her cheek.
Than doth she troll to me the bowl
  As a good malt-worm should
And say:"Sweetheart, I have take my part
  Of jolly etc."

They that do drink till they nod and wink
  Even as good fellows should do,
They shall not miss to have the bliss
  That good ale hath brought them to.
And all poor souls that scour black bowls
  And them hath lustily trolled
God save the lives of them and their wives
  Whether they be young or old!

filename[ BACK&SID
play.exe JOHNDORY
   (see note on  JOHNDORY)
@drink
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACK ON THE STREET AGAIN
(Steve Gillette)

I'm back on the street again,
Gotta stand on my own two feet again
I'm walkin' that lonely beat again,
Rememberin' when, oh, oh rememberin' when.

Got a tear in my eye again,
To remind me that I might cry again.
Feelin' sad and wonderin' why again,
Rememberin' when, oh, oh rememberin' when.

I remember a time when I thought the world was mine.
The world belongs to somebody else now,
And I'm just standin' in line.

So I'm thinkin' of me again.
That's the way it's gonna be again.
I'll wait and I'll see til then,
I'm rememberin' when, oh, oh rememberin' when.

@nostalgia
Copyright Cherry Lane Music, ASCAP
Used by permission
filename[ BACKON
play.exe BACKON
SG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACK ON THE STREET AGAIN 2
(Tom Dundee)

I guess the old landlord could not afford
To keep me anymore
'Cause there's a county notice hanging on a nail
And a padlock on my door;
But I've still got everything that I own
From my head down to the floor
I've got my pockets full of hands, a dollar twenty-seven cents,
And a key I don't need no more.

     Back on the street again;
     Back on my feet again;
     Hanging out, hanging on and hanging in
     On the street again.

So I went by Rose and what do you suppose
She said concerning our affair?
She said I had to go because someone I didn't know
Sure didn't want to find me there;
She said, "He's got money, a fancy car and, Honey,
He's got a lot of love to give";
Ain't that exactly the order she's taking him for;
Ain't this a hell of a way to live?

So I went down to the bar and met a little sweetheart
That said she was waiting for her friends;
She said, "We like to fool around and we all hit town
Just this evening from South Bend"
I though my ship had come in until I saw her friends:
It was her husband and her second cousin, Flo;
And I wonder if I have to tell you any more about her cousin,
You probably already know

She was ornery, drunk and mean and I was somewhere in between,
Wondering "Is this ride worth the fare?"
So I excused myself and went into the back for just a minute
To weigh the situation with care.
     Back on the street again;
     Back on my feet again;
     Hanging out, hanging on and hanging in
     On the street again.

copyright Tom Dundee
filename[ BACKONTH
SP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACK WATER BLUES

Well it rained five days and the sky was dark as night
Yes, it rained five days and the sky was dark as night
There's trouble in the lowlands tonight.

I got up one morning, I couldn't even get out of my door (2x)
There was enough trouble to make a poor boy wonder where to go.

I went and stood up on a high old lonesome hill (2x)
I did all I could to look down on the house where I used to live.

It thundered and lighteninged and the wind began to blow (2x)
There were thousands of poor people didn't have no place to go.

Recorded by Bessie Smith
@blues @flood @rain
filename[ BACKWATR
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BACKBLOCKS SHEARER

1.  I'm only a backblocks shearer, boys, as can be plainly seen,
    I've shore in almost every shed on the plains of the Riverine,
    I've shore in most of the famous sheds, I've seen big tallies done,
    But somehow or other, I don't know why, I never became a gun.

cho: Hurrah, me boys, my shears are set, I feel both fit and well
     Tomorrow will find me at my pen when the gaffer rings the bell
     With Haydon's patent thumbguards fixed and both my blades pulled back
     Tomorrow I go with a sliding blow for a century or the sack

2.  I've opened up the windpipe straight, I've opened behind the ear
    I've practiced every possible style in which a man can shear
    I've studied all the cuts and drives of the famous men I've met
    But I never succeeded in plastering up those three little figures yet

3.  As the boss walked down this morning, boys, I saw him stare at me
    For I'd mastered Morgan's shoulder-cut, as he could plainly see
    But I've another surprise for him that'll give his nerves a shock
    Tomorrow he'll find I've mastered Pierce's rang-tang block!

4.  If I succeed as I hope to, then I intend to shear
    At Wagga demonstration that they have there every year,
    Then down the colours will come, my boys, the colours of Mitchell & Co.
    Instead of Deeming, you will hear of Widgegoweera Joe!

Note: written by W. Tully at Nimidgee, NSW: in most Australian
     collections JB
@Australia @sheep @work
filename[ BACKBLCK
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACKWOODSMAN

Oh, it's well do I remember the year of 'forty-five
I think myself quite happy to find myself alive
I harnessed up my horses, my business to pursue
And I went a-hauling cordwood as I often used to do.

Now I only hauled one load where I should have hauled four
I went down to Omemee and I could not haul no more
The taverns they being open, good liquor was flowing free
And I hadn't emptied one glass when another was filled for me.

Now I met with an old acquaintance, and I dare not tell his name
He was going to a dance and I thought I'd do the same
He was going to a dance where the fiddle was sweetly played
And the boys and girls all danced till the breaking of the day.

So I puts me saddle on me arm and started for the barn
To saddle up old grey nag, not thinking any harm
I saddled up old grey nag and I rode away so still
And I never drew a long breath till I came to Downeyville.

So when I got to Downeyville the night was far advanced
I got upon the floor for to have a little dance
The fiddler he being rested, his arm being stout and strong
Played the rounds of old Ireland for four hours long.

Now my father followed after, I've heard the people say
He must have had a pilot or he never would found the way
He looked in every keyhole that he could see a light
Till his old grey locks were wet with the dew of the night.

From Penguin Book of Canadian Folk Songs by Edith Fowke
see also CAMCNTRY
filename[ BACKWOOD
play.exe BACKWOOD
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BACON ON THE RIND

A soldier in the cavalry lay on a canvas bunk,
On a soap box there beside him lay a hunk of army punk;
And as he chewed away and busy, his face turned ashen gray
For the soldier boy was dying in the Island far away.
     As his comrades knelt beside him
     To hear what he might say,
     The dying soldier faltered,
     "Bring me a bunch of hay,
For my horse has food in plenty
And the grub is left behind,
And I must starve on Bacon
Army Bacon on the Rind.

And as he lay there gasping wlth the moments flying fast,
He tried to chew a rubber boot 'fore life went out at last.
And he said to his comrades, "Bring me a box of soap,
For they eat it in the frozen north, and where there is life there is hope.
     But Charlie dear, I greatly fear, my race is almost run,
     Life's feeble spark will be snuffed out ere the setting of the sun;
     Take a message and a token to the dear ones left behind,
     And say I starved on Bacon, Army Bacon on the Rind."

That evening just at twilight, as the flag slid down the pole
We bowed our heads in silence for the 'parting soul;
But that night beside the camp-fire you could hear his comrades say
"If he'd had a soldier's ration he'd be alive today.
A curse on the man who did it, tho' with coin his purse be lined
May he starve on Prunes and Bacon, Army Bacon on the Rind!"

In a trim New England cottage sits a mother old and gray
In her hand she holds a letter that came by mail that day.
And as she sits there reading, her eyes are filled with tears,
For the letter brings the tidings that every mother fears.
     lt tells how in the lslands her darling met his death,
     Fighting for flag and country midst the battle's frenzied breath
     But it don't tell how it happened, and perhaps the Fates are kind
     For her darling starved on Bacon, Army Bacon on the Rind.
Note: From the Philippine Campaign
@army @food @bitching
filename[ BACNRIND
play.exe BACNRIND
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAD LEROY BROWN
(Jim Croce?)

Well the south side of Chicago
Is the baddest part of town.
And if you go down there, you better just beware
Of a man name of Leroy Brown.

Now Leroy more than trouble.
You see he stand about six-foot four.
All the downtown ladies call him treetop lover.
All the men just call him Sir./And he's--

Cho: Bad, bad Leroy Brown
     The baddest man in the whole damn town.
     Badder than old King Kong
     And meaner than a junkyard dog.

Now Leroy, he a gambler
And he like his fancy clothes.
And he like to wave his diamond rings
Under everybody's nose.
He got a custom Continental.
He got a El Dorado, too.
He got a thirty-two gun in his pocket for fun.
He got a razor in his shoe./Yeah, he's--

Well Friday, 'bout a week ago
Leroy shootin' dice
And at the edge of the bar sat a girl name of Doris
And, oh, that girl look nice.
Well, he cast his eyes upon her
And the trouble soon began.
Leroy Brown, he learned a lesson 'bout a-messin'
With the wife of a jealous man./And he's--

Well, the two men took to fightin'
And when they pulled them from the floor
Leroy look like a jigsaw puzzle
With a couple of pieces gone./And he's--


Copyright Jim Croce?
filename[ LEROYBRN
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAD MOON RISING
(John Fogerty?)

I see a bad moon rising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightning.
I see bad times today.

Cho: Don't go 'round tonight.
     Well it's bound to take your life.
     There's a bad moon on the rise.

I hear hurricanes a blowin'.
I know the end is comin' soon.
I feel rivers overflowin'.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.

Hope you've got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we're in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.

Copyright John Fogerty?
filename[ BADMOON
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAD NEW IS ALL THE WIND CAN CARRY
(Richard Thompson)

This house is dark and shattered
Luck has gone out the door
No daytime will shine
In this empty room no more

        Bad news is all the wind can carry

I heard a sound one morning
About my mind had to weep
I heard a man dig my love's grave
The hole was dark the hole was deep

        Bad news is all the wind can carry

Some people say she wandered
And that she had a price likewise
I'll cut their tongues and hang 'em high
They'll rot away with all their lies

        Bad news is all the wind can carry

I'll steal a boat and rig her
On course I'll tie the wheel
I'll lay down to the stars
Until the bottom meets the keel

        Bad news is all the wind can carry

----------------------------------------------------------------
recorded on Richard Thompson's first solo demo tape ca. late 1971
When it was proposed that this song should be included in a fan club
  tape, Richard said "Over my dead body".
Copyright Warlock Music

@love @death @boat
filename[ BADNEWS
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BAGGAGE COACH AHEAD

On a dark and stormy night as the train rolled on
All passengers gone to bed,
Except a young man with a babe on his arm
Sat sadly with bowed down head;
Just then the babe commenced crying
As though its poor heart would break.
One angry man said, "Make that child stop its noise,
For it's keeping us all awake."

"Put it out," said another, "Don't keep it in here;
We've paid for our berth and want rest."
But never a word said the man with the child,
As he fondled it close to his breast.
"Oh where is its mother? Go take it to her,"
One lady then softly said.
"I wish I could," was the man's sad reply.
"But she's dead in the coach ahead."
As the train rolled onward, a husband set in tears,
Thinking of the happiness of just a few short years.
Baby's face brings pictures of a cherished hope now dead,
But baby's cries can't awaken her in the baggage coach ahead.
Every eye filled with tears as the story he told
Of a wife who was faithful and true;
He told how he'd saved up his earnings for years,
Just to build a home for two;
How when heaven had sent them their sweet little babe,
Their young happy lives were blest;
His heart seemed to break when he mentioned her name,
And in tears tried to tell them the rest.

Every woman arose to assist with the child;
There were mothers and wives on that train.
And soon was the little one sleeping in peace,
With no thought of sorrow or pain.
Next morn at the station he bade all goodbye,
"God bless you," he softly said,
Each one had a story to tell in their homes
Of the baggage coach ahead.

@tearjerker @death @train
from Louise Pound "American Ballads and Songs"
filename[ BAGCOACH
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON

There was a youth and a well belov-ed youth
And he was the Squire's son.
He loved the bailiff's daughter dear
That lived in Islington.

But she was coy and would not believe
That he did love her so,
Nor would she at any time
Any countenance to him show.

And when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish pride
They sent him up to far London
An apprentice for to bind.

Seven long years went rolling by
And ne'er did his true love see.
Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When little she thought of me.

The maids of Islington went forth
Went forth to sport and play,
All but the bailiff's daughter dear.
She secretly stole away.

And as she went along the road,
The weather being hot and dry,
She sat down on a shady bank.
Her true love eame riding by.

She sprang up with color so bright
And seized his bridle rein,
"One penny, one penny, kind sir," she said,
"Twould ease me of mueh pain."

"Before I give you a penny, sweetheart,
Pray tell me where you were born."
"At Islington, kind sir," said she,
"Where I have had many a scorn."

"Before I give you a penny, sweetheart,
Pray tell me whether you know
The bailiff's daughter of Islington"
"She's dead, sir, long ago."

"If she be dead, then take my horse,
My saddle and bridle also,
And I will go to some far land
Where no one me shall know."

"Oh, stay, oh, stay, you goodly youth,
She's standing by your side.
She is not dead but alive and well
And ready to be your bride."

"Depart sorrow and welcome joy,
Many thousand times and more,
For now I have my own true love
Whom I thought I would see no more "

Recorded by Mike Seeger, Richard Dyer-Bennet, Andrew Rowan
 Summers
Child #105
@love @parting @return
filename[ BAILDAUG
play.exe BAILDAUG
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALACLAVA

Six hundred stalwart warrlors, of England's pride the best,
Did grasp the lance and aabre on Balaclava's crest,
And with their trusty leader, Earl Cardigan the brave,
Dashed through the Ruasian valley to glory or a grave.

cho: Oh, 'tis a famous story, proclaim it far and wide,
  And let your children's children re-echo it with pride;
  How Cardigan the fearless his name immortal made
  When he crossed the Russian valley with his famous light brigade.

Their foemen stood in thousands, a dark and awful mass,
Beneath their famous strongholds resolved to guard the pass,
Their guns with fierce defiance belched thunders up the vale,
Where sat our English horsemen firm beneath their iron gale.

When Nolan brought the order,'Great God, can it be true ?'
Cried Cardigen the fearless, 'and my brigade so few ?
To take these awful cannon from yonder teeming mass,
'Tis madness, sir. Where shall we charge? What guns bring from the pass?'

And they were but six hundred against two score thousand foes,
Hemmed in by furious cannon and crushed with savage blows,
Yet fought they there like heroes for our noble England's fame;
Oh, glorious charge, heroic deed, what glory crowns thy name!

Four hundred of those soldlers fell fighting where they stood,
And thus that fatal death vale they enriched with English blood;
Four hundred of those soldiers bequeathed their lives away
To the England they had fought for on that wild October day.

From Songs of the People, Henry
Note:
The Charge of the Light Brigade at the battle of Balaclave
occurred on Oct. 25, 1854. An obviously English song, collected
in Ireland, RG

@war @battle @English @Crimea
filename[ BALACLAV
play.exe BALACLAV
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALALOO, LAMMY

     Now balaloo, lammy, now baloo, my dear,
     Now balaloo, lammy, ain mammie is here.
     What ails my wee bairnie? What ails it this night?
     What ails my wee lammy?  Is bairnie no right?

     Now balaloo, lammy, now baloo, my dear,
     Does wee lammy ken that its daddie's no here?
     Ye're rockin' fu' sweetly on mammie's warm knee,
     But daddie's a-rockin' upon the saut sea.
     ________________________________________________________

     Moffat TSNR (1933), 3, with music (titled from the first
     3 words, subtitled "Cradle Song").

@lullaby
filename[ BALALAM
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALD HEADED END OF A BROOM

Oh love is such a very funny thing
It catches the young and old
It's just like a plate of boardinghouse hash
To many a man it is sold
  It makes you feel like a fresh water eel
  Causes your head to swell
  You'll lose your mind for love is blind
  It empties your pocket book as well

  Oh boys, stay away from the girls, I say
  Oh give them lots of room
  They'll find you and you'll wed
  And they'll bang you till you're dead
  With the bald headed end of a broom

When a man is a going on a pretty little girl
His love is firm and strong
But when he has to feed them on hash
His love won't last so long

With a wife and seven half starved kids
Boys I'll tell you it is no fun
When the butcher comes around to collect his debts
With a dog and a double barreled gun

When your money is gone and your clothing in hock
You'll find the old saying it is true
That a mole on the arm's worth two on the legs
But what is he going to do

recorded by Uncle Monroe on Folk Legacy Beech Mountain
@courting  @marriage
filename[ BALDBROM
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALDHEADED END OF THE BROOM

Love it is a very funny thing
It catches young and old
Just like a dish of boarding house hash
To many a man it's sold
Makes you feel like a fresh water eel
Causes your head to swell
You'll lose your pride
Your love is tried
Empty your pocketbook as well

Cho: So boys stay away from the girls I say
     Give 'em lots of room
     'Cause when you're wed they'll beat you 'till you're dead
     With the baldheaded end of the broom

When a boy goes out with a pretty litle miss
He talks as gentle as a dove
He courts his honey and spends his money
Just to prove he's solid in love
When his money's all gone
And his clothes in hock
And he has no bread to chaw
He'll call someone to load up his gun
And vaccinate his mother-in-law

Cho:

Now young men take my advice
Don't be in a hurry to wed
You'll think you're in clover
'Till the honeymoon's over
And then you'll think you're dead
With a cross-eyed baby on each knee
And a wife with a pimple on her nose
You'll find that love doesn't run so smooth
When you have to wear second-hand clothes.

Cho:

@courting  @marriage
filename[ BALDBRM2
play.exe[ BALDBRM2
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALL OF KERRIEMUIR (BALLYNORE)

'Twas on the first of August the party, it began.
Now, never shall I forget, me lads, the gatherin' of the clans

Singing, ``Who hae ye, lassie, (last nicht)
Who hae ye noo?
        The ane that hae ye last time (The mon wha hae ye last nicht)
He canna hae ye noo.''

'Twas the gatherin' o' the clans, mon, and everyone was there
A-playin' wi' the lassies an' twinin' curly hair

John McGowan, the father, was very surprised to see
Four and twenty maidenheads a hanging from the tree.

There was dancin' in the meadows, there was dancin' in the ricks,
Ye could nae hear the bagpipes for the swishing o' the pricks.

The bride was in the parlor explainin' to the groom
The vagina, not the rectum, is the entrance to the womb.

The queen was in the parlor, eatin'  bread and honey
The king was in the parlor maid, and she was in the money.

The parson's daughter, she was there a sittin' way down front
A wreath of roses in her hair and a carrot up her cunt.

The parson's wife, she was there her arse against the wall,
Shoutin' to the laddie boys, ``I'll take ye one an' all.''

It's the first lady forward, and the second lady back
And the third lady's finger in the fourth lady's crack.

It's a' the ladies back, wi' yer arses tae the wall
If ye can't get fucked at Keriemuir, ye'll never get fucked at all!

The village priest, he was there and on the floor he sat
Amusing himself by abusing himself and catching it on his hat.
The undertaker, he went there dressed in a lime black shroud
Swinging on the chandelier and pissing on the crowd.

There was fuckin' i' the stable, there was fuckin' i' the ricks
An' ye couldna' hear the music for the swishin' o' the pricks.

The mayor's daughter, she was there and kept the crowd in fits
By jumpin' off the mantle piece and landin' on her tits.

There was screwing on the banister, screwing on the stairs
Ye couldna' see the carpet  for the mess o' curly hairs.

The village idiot, he was there, he was a perfect fool.
He sat beneath the oak tree and whittled off his tool.

The village postman, he was there. the puir mon had the pox
He could nae fuck the lassies, so he fucked the letter box.

The chimney sweep, he was there, but soon he got the boot,
For every time he farted, he filled the room with soot.

The groom by now was excited an' racin' through the halls
He was pullin' on his pecker an' showin off his balls.

Big John, the farmer, swore an oath, an' then he cursed an' grat
For his forty acre corn field was completely fuckit flat.

The minister's wife was there as weel a' buckled to the front
Wi' a wreath o' roses roun' her arse an' thrissels roun' her cunt.

The minister's dochter tae was there an' she gat roarin' fu'
Sae they doubled her ower the midden wa' an' bulled her like a coo.

And when the ball was over, the opinion was expressed:
Although they liked the music, the screwin' was the best.

Alternate chorus (braider Scots than most):

Wi' a fa'll dae it this time
Fa'll dae it noo?
The yin that did it last time
Canna dae it noo.


Note: Written in the 1880's to celebrate the comings and goings
of a supposed actual social event in the Kirriemuir district of
Scotland.RG

@Scots @bawdy
filename[ KERIMUIR
play.exe KERIMUIR
BR, RG , ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALL OF YARN

It was in the month of June, all the roses were in bloom
I chanced to take a stroll around the farm;
And a maiden fair to see, came a-walking up to me,
Said, "Would you like to wind my little ball of yarn?"

     Ball of yarn, ball of yarn
     Would you like to wind my little ball of yarn?
     Ball of yarn, ball of yarn
     Would you like to wind my little ball of yarn?

Well, I gave her my consent, and behind the barn we went
I promised her that I would do no harm;
Then she pulled up her clothes, and I pulled out my hose
And then I wound her little ball of yarn.

     Ball of yarn, ball of yarn
     And then I wound her little ball of yarn?
     Ball of yarn, ball of yarn
     And then I wound her little ball of yarn?

It was nine months after that, in a poolroom where I sat
That I felt a heavy hand upon my arm;
And a gentleman in blue said, "Young man, we're after you
You're the father of an eight-pound ball of yarn."

     Ball of yarn, ball of yarn
     You're the father of an eight-pound ball of yarn
     Ball of yarn, ball of yarn
     You're the father of an eight-pound ball of yarn

In my prison cell I sit, with my fingers full of shit
And the shadow of my cock upon the wall;
And the women, as they pass, all shove peanuts up my ass
While the little mice play ping-pong with my balls.

From a mis-spent youth in Brooklyn, ca. 1943. The last verse,
  while it may not really fit, was considered a killer in those
  days, at least. RG

@bawdy @bastard @seduction @jail
filename[ BALLYAR3
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF 5.60

Free energy and entropy were whirling in his brain
With partial differentials and greek letters in their train
With delta, sigma, gamma, theta, epsilon, and pi
Were driving him distracted as they danced before his eye.

cho: Glory, glory, dear old thermo
     Glory, glory, dear old thermo
     Glory, glory, dear old thermo,
     We'll pass you by and by.

Heat content and fugacity revolved within his brain
Like molecules and atoms that you never have to name.
And logarithmic functions doing cakewalks in his dreams,
And partial molal quantities devouring chocolate creams.

Chorus:

They asked him on his final if a mole of any gas
In a vessel with a membrane through which Hydrogen could pass
Were compressed to half its volume what the entropy would be
If two-thirds delta-sigma equaled half of delta-P.

He said he guessed the entropy would have to equal four
Unless the second law would bring it up a couple more.
But then, it might be seven if the Carnot law applied,
Or it might be almost zero if the delta-T should slide.

The professor read his paper with a corrugated brow
For he knew he'd have to grade it and he didn't know quite how.
'Til an inspiration in his cerebellum suddenly smote,
And he seized his trusty fountain pen and this is what he wrote:

Just as you guessed the entropy I'll have to guess your grade,
But the second law won't raise it to the mark you might have made.
For it might have been 100 if your guesses all were good,
But I think it must be zero 'til they're rightly understood.

final chorus:

     Glory, glory, dear old thermo
     Glory, glory, dear old thermo
     Glory, glory, dear old thermo
     We'll try again next term.

(Tune: Battle Hymn of the Republic)
@school @parody
filename[ BALLAD56
play.exe JOHNBRWN
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF 578
(Dick Parks)

On any given evening, if you step into the gloom
Of any given "O" Club, in one corner of the room,
You'll find a grizzled bunch there, drinking lemonade,
Of salty fighter pilots - masters of their trade.
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
Old pilots never die!

These crusty, daring devils fulfill an ancient role
That calls for nerves of iron and a stainless steel soul.
It's there that great traditions are shouted to the stars;
Not in sissy flying schools, but down in O Club bars.
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
Cowards need not apply!

"Sure anyone can fly a plane", you'll hear these veterans say,
But it takes a cast-iron occiput to dive into the fray
That blazes every evening like a napalmed ammo barn,
When they spin sea stories gruesome; each one a classic yarn.
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
War stories never die!

Heroes of the past still soar, although in ghostly thread,
Like the first test Frisbee pilot whose gyroscope went dead.
And the F-11 driver whose luck had turned dark brown:
The shells that he had fired - caught up, and shot him down.
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
Anecdotes of the sky!

But these were nothing half so grim as the tale of one F-4
That blasted off a catapult on the bleak New Jersey shore.
Where once the fabled  Hindenburg  lighted up the night,
This battle-weary Phantom jet took off on its last flight.
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
Lakehurst is never dry!

Full of secret hardware, old one-five-five-sev'n-eight
Roared off into the fog, then failed to elevate!
"Flameout", said the pilot, when they plucked him from a tree.
But "flameout" never did explain the absence of debris.
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
New legend of the sky!

Unlike the flying Dutchman, which is seen without its crew,
No trace of wreckage could be found, excepting just one clue:
A secret radar module, about six inches square
Was found beneath the pilot's tree, as if it were put there!
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
Without radar, you can't fly!

But to this day, five-seven-eight, its radar finally right
Without the secret module, patrols the gloomy night.
A legend now, when fog rolls in above the Jersey mud,
The phantom Phantom, still aloft, screams past and chills the blood!
Anchors aweigh, tailpipes aglow;
Ghost Phantom in the sky!

- partially based on a partially true event!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
from TechRep Ballads
@parody @travel @plane
filename[ BA578SNG
play.exe GHSTRIDE
RP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF ACCOUNTING
(Ewan MacColl)

In the morning we built the city
In the afternoon walked through its streets
Evening saw us leaving

        We wandered through our days as if they would never end
        All of us imagined we had endless time to spend
        We hardly saw the crossroads and small attention gave
        To landmarks on the journey from the cradle to the grave,
                cradle to the grave, cradle to the grave

Did you learn to dream in the morning?
Abandon dreams in the afternoon?
Wait without hope in the evening?

        Did you stand there in the traces and let 'em feed you lies?
        Did you trail along behind them wearing blinkers on your eyes?
        Did you kiss the foot that kicked you, did you thank them for
                their scorn?
        Did you ask for their forgiveness for the act of being born,
                act of being born, act of being born?

Did you alter the face of the city?
Make any change in the world you found?
Or did you observe all the warnings?

        Did you read the trespass notices, did you keep off the grass?
        Did you shuffle up the pavements just to let your betters pass?
        Did you learn to keep your mouth shut, were you seen but never heard?
        Did you learn to be obedient and jump to at a word,
                jump to at a word, jump to at a word?

Did you demand any answers?
The who and the what and the reason why?
Did you ever question the setup?

        Did you stand aside and let 'em choose while you took second best?
        Did you let 'em skim the cream off and give to you the rest?
        Did you settle for the shoddy and did you think it right
        To let 'em rob you right and left and never make a fight,
                never make a fight, never make a fight?

What did you learn in the morning?
How much did you know in the afternoon?
Were you content in the evening?

        Did they teach you how to question when you were at the school?
        Did the factory help you, were you the maker or the tool?
        Did the place where you were living enrich your life and then
        Did you reach some understanding of all your fellow men,
                all your fellow men, all your fellow men?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Ewan MacColl on "Black And White" (1972)
and by Dick Gaughan on "Live in Edinburgh" (1985)

copyright Stormking Music

"Written in 1964 as theme music for the BBC radio-series 'LANDMARKS',
this is a summing-up song, an accounts sheet. Its Brechtian style and
deceptive simplicity mark it as unique among MacColl's
compositions"

@political @additive
filename[ BLKNWHIT
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF AIMEE McPHERSON

Did you ever hear the story of Aimee McPherson?
Aimee McPherson, that wonderful person,
She weight a hundred eighty and her hair was red
And preached a wicked sermon, so the papers said.

cho: Hi dee hi dee hi dee hi
     Ho dee ho dee ho dee ho.

Aimee built herself a radio station
To broadcast her prraching to the nation.
She found a man named Armistead who knew enough
To run the radio while Aimee did her stuff.

Shc held a camp meeting out at Ocean Park
Preached from early morning 'til after dark.
Said the benediction, folded up her tent,
And nobody knew where Aimee went.
When Aimee McPherson got back from this journey,
Shc told her tale to the district attorney.
Said she'd been kidnapped on a lonely trail.
In spite of all the questions, she stuck to her tale.

Well, the Grand Jury started an investigation,
Uncovered a lot of spicy information.
Found out about a love nest down at Carmel-by-the-Sea,
Where the liquor was expensive and the loving was free.

They found a cottage with a breakfast nook,
A folding bed with a worn-out look.
The slats were busted and the springs were loose,
And the dents in the mattress fitted Aimee's caboose.

Well they took poor Aimee and they threw her in jail.
Last I heard she was out on bail.
They'll send her up for a stretch, I guess,
She worked herself up into an awful mess
Now Radio Ray is a going hound;
He's going yet and he ain't been found.
They got his description, but they got it too late.
Sin they got it, he's lost a lot of weight.

Now I'll end my story in the usual way,
About this lady preacher's holiday.
If you don't get the moral then you're the gal for me
Cause they got a lot of cottages down at Carmel-by-the-Sea.

From the liberated Woman's Songbook, Silverman.
Note: It happened in 1926. Lasted 36 days. Results inconclusive.
     Armistead  was really Kenneth Ormison, her  radio  engineer.
     Hallelujah! RG
filename[ AIMEEMC
play.exe AIMEEMC
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF CHARLIE BIRGER

I will tell you of a bandit in a great midwestern state
Who never learned his lesson until it was too late;
This man was bold and careless and the leader of his gang
His boldness did not save him when the law said, "You must hang."

This bandit's name was Birger, he lived at Shady Rest
THe people learned to fear him throughout the middle west;
It was out in old West City, Joe Adams was shot down
Then the cry of justice said, "The murderers must be found!"

Dan Thomasson was arrested, he turned state's evidence
Charlie Birger was found guilty for he had no defense;
He asked for a re-hearing; But this he was denied
Out in the county jailhouse, to take his life he tried.

On the nineteenth day of April in nineteen twenty-eight
Way out west in Benton, Charlie Birger met his fate.
Another life has ended; another chapter done
Another man has gambled in the game that can't be won.

Oh, the holy Bible shows us the straight and narrow way,
And if we do not heed it, some time we'll have to pay.
We all must face the Master, our final trial to stand,
It's there we'll learn the meaning of houses built on sand.

note: First recorded by Vernon Dalhart; credited to Carson Robison, but
might have been written by Blind Andrew Jenkins. EK

@outlaw @America
filename[ CBIRGER
EK
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF COMPENSATION
(David Diamond)

 Remember all the lovely projects
 That you didn't get to do?
 All the bugs the other fellow
 Left around to bother you?
 How the card decks came back sorted,
 All the times your patience frayed?
 Say not the struggle naught availeth
 For on Friday we get paid.

 All the times you came at midnight
 Just to find the system down?
 Spent a quarter for a coffee
 And it wasn't even brown?
 While the tape drive tied your source tape
 Up into a kind of braid?
 Say not the struggle naught availeth,
 For on Friday we get paid.

 Do the operators blunder?
 Does the library make you burn?
 Was your input never input?
 Did your output ne'er return?
 Would your troubles stretch to China,
 End to end, if they were laid?
 Say not the struggle naught availeth,
 For on Friday we get paid.

 Prince, I thought I heard you murmur
 That you're aimless and dismayed,
 Saw you join the groaning mourners
 In the corridors arrayed.
 For your sickness there is physic,
 By these words it is conveyed:
 "Say not the struggle naught availeth,
 For on Friday we get paid".

Note: Dave was casting around for a singable tune for this:
 What A Friend We Have in Jesus works jes' fine. So, if you're
interested, does Babylon is Fallen, or Deutschland Uber Alles. RG

filename[ FRIPAY
play.exe FRNDJSUS
DD
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF CORDS

You've heard about our warriors,
In uniforms of green.
There's damned hear half a million,
Of our troops who've made the scene.

There's the Big Red One and the First Air Cav
And all those other hordes.
But you've seldom heard a single word,
About the creature known as CORDS.

Now CORDS, the world's ninth wonder
Was born in merry May,
with a mighty roar of thunder,
On a sultry Saigon day.

And CORDS was nursed on nuoc mam,
And teethed on TNT,
'Cause this poor bastard's parents,
Were called OCO and MACV.

Komer and westmoreland,
Loved that rascal CORDS,
And knew they had to teach him to weld
Plowshares into swords.

Now both CORDS' noble parents,
Had fought for minds and hearts,
But CORDS set out to fight the war,
With view graph slides and charts.

Yes OCO had its RD teams,
And MACV the brigade,
But CORDS rushed into battle,
With its briefers on parade.

Uncle McNamara,
Comes out from time to time,
To inspect the growing baby,
In the torrid tropic clime.

He listens to the briefings,
And reviews the cadre groups,
And if RD is lagging,
He just sends more combat troops.

The troops provide security,
So CORDS can pacify,
And require Siagon's bureaucracy,
To expand and multiply.

We once had several agencies,
To seek our common goals,
They had a common mission,
Although each had different roles.

Then we unified the agencies,
For RD was moving slow,
And civilians in the field marched forth
'Neath the flag of OCO.

But OCO died in labor,
When CORDS was born in May,
And CORDS is blessed with the MACV crest
Until their dying day.

Note: CORDS stood for Civil Operations and Revolutionary
     Development Support
From The Longest Day, Bowen and Fish
@army @Vietnam @war
tune: Either Wabash Cannonball or Puff, the Magic Dragon
filename[ BALCORDS
play.exe WABASHCB
play.exe PUFFDRGN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF ERICA LEVINE
(Bob Blue)

When Erica Levine was seven and a half
Up to her door came Jason Metcalfe
And he said "Will you marry me, Erica Levine?"
And Erica Levine said "What do you mean?"
  "Well my father and my mother say a fellow ought to marry
  And my father said his brother, who is my Uncle Larry
  Never married and he said Uncle Larry is a dope---
  So will you marry me?" Said Erica,"Nope."
"My piano teacher's smart, and she never had to marry
And your father may be right about your Uncle Larry,
But not being married isn't what made him a dope.
Don't ask me again, 'cause my answer's 'Nope'."

When Erica Levine was seventeen
She went to a dance with Joel Bernstein,
And they danced by the light of a sparkling bobby sock,
'Cause the theme of the prom was the history of Rock.
  And after the prom, Joel kissed her at the door,
  And he said "Do you know what that kiss was for?"
  And she said "I don't know, but you kiss just fine."
  And he said "What it means is that you are mine."
And she said "No, I'm not!", and she rushed inside
And on the way home, Joel Bernstein cried
And she cried, too, and wrote a letter to 'Ms.',
Saying"This much I know: I am mine, not his."

When Erica Levine was twenty-three
Her lover said "Erica, marry me.
This relationship is answering a basic need
And I'd like to have it legally guaranteed.
  For without your precious love I would surely die
  So why can't we make it legal?" Said Erica, "Why?
  Basic needs, at your age, should be met by you;
  I'm your lover, not your mother---let's be careful what we do.
If I should ever marry,I will marry to grow,
Not for tradition, or possession or protection. No!
I love you, but your needs are a very different issue."
Then He cried, and Erica handed him a tissue.

When Erica was thirty, she was talking with Lou,
Discussing and deciding what they wanted to do.
"When we marry, should we move into your place or mine?
Yours is rent-controlled, but mine is on the green line."
  And they argued and they talked, and they finally didn't care
  And they joined a small cooperative near Central Square.
  And their wedding was a simple one, they wanted it that way.
  And they thought a lot about the the things that they would
     choose to say.
"I will live with you and love you, but I'll never call you mine."
Then the judge pronounced them married, and everyone had wine.
And a happy-ever-after life is not the kind they got,
But they tended to be happy more often than not.

(Recorded by Bob Blue, Kim Wallach, Frankie Armstrong)
Copyright Bob Blue
@feminist @courting
filename[ ELEVINE
play.exe ELEVINE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF F.D.R
(Almanac Singers)

It was on a Saturday night and the moon was shining bright,
They passed the Conscription bill.
And the people they did say for many miles away,
T'was the president and his boys on Capitol Hill.

cho: Oh Franklin Roosevelt told the people how he felt,
     We damned near believed what he said.
     He said "I hate war and so does Eleanor but
     We won't be safe till everybody's dead.

When my poor mother died, I was sitting by her side,
Promising to war I'd never go.
Now I'm wearing khaki jeans and eating army beans,
And I'm told that J. P. Morgan loves me so.

I have wandered over this land a roamin'workingman,
No clothes to wear and not much food to eat.
Now the government foots the bill, gives clothes, and feeds me swill,
And gets me shot and put underground six feet.

Note: this commemorated the passing of the Selective Service Act
     of 1940, the U.S.'s first peacetime conscription. It was
     violently opposed by most U.S. left-wingers, at least until
     Germany invaded the U.S.S.R. RG
Recorded by Almanac Singers, Songs for John Doe
@parody @political @peace
filename[ BALLDFDR
play.exe JESSJAME
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF LADY MONDEGREEN
(David Albert)

Oh, she was an unsung hero of the greatest land of all,
Her name was Mondegreen, and she stood straight and proud and tall,
But the soldiers came at midnight, now the people all have seen,
How they've slain the Earl of Murray, and Lady Mondegreen.

Oh, there is an ancient lighthouse, on the cliffs at Donzerly,
Two centuries, and more, it's guided sailors home from sea.
It was there in times of trouble, shining bravely through the night;
Now the sailors all sing praises to the Donzerly Light.

Jose had left his wallet home when he went to the game
He couldn't buy a ticket and it seemed an awful shame
So he shinnied up the flagpole to watch the Mets for free
And all the fans looked up and sang, "Jose, can you see?"

Copyright David Albert.
filename[ MONDGREN
DA
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF LEWIS MILLS
(Dwayne Thorpe)


Come all ye gallant dorymen, and you shall quickly hear
A tale of deeds of daring, of danger without fear.
Of Captain Blackburn's daring deeds you oftentimes have heard
And now of just as brave a man, please let me say a word.

I speak of gallant Lewis Mills, likewise his noble son.
From Gloucester port, that grand resort, to row they have begun
To fight with wind and current and to battle with the waves.
And to cross the broad Atlantic in the space of forty days.

The record stood at 55 days, it was set in '98
Said Mills, "Not bad, for two clam diggers but now it's out of date
And Gloucester men have too much pride to let it e'er be said
That New Jersey boats took home the prize while we stayed home in bed."

It was in the year of '67 of March the seventeenth day
When after many preparations the boat got underway
 They did not neglect to  take a pint of whiskey on each hip
To warm them in the water just in case to boat might tip.

But "What about your ears?," some said, "They'll very quickly freeze!
For there's a north wind blowing, and its now 14 degrees."
"The cold be damned,"  said Lewis Mills, "I'll go without a hat
For the Gulf Stream in six or seven days, will surely take care of that!"

In just about an hour's time, they rounded the breakwater light
And headed out to Spain or Scotland or somewhere on the right
They headed out for Spain or Scotland or Greenland or Japan
"Wherever it is, "  says Lewis Mills, "We're bound to strike some land."

But the boat began to take on ice, just like a coat of mail
And ice, as everybody knows,is very hard to bail
For it won't fit in a bucket and it won't pour from a pail
And the man who tries to row such a boat will very likely fail.

"Now comes the time, " says Lewis Mills, "we begin to feel the pinch
For the gunwales they're all frozen hard and we're sinking inch by inch
And also I have noticed, though I row with all I've got
We haven't moved a single foot, we're rooted to the spot."

"This being the case," says Lewis Mills, "perhaps we'll turn around
And see if we can't make it back to firm and solid ground.
For we've neither wings nor wet suits on, and logic makes me think
That since only Christ could walk on water, we'll very likely sink."

When they arrived at Dolliver's Neck, just shortly after dark
There were no TV cameras, no crowds in Stage Fort Park
There was neither a friendly hand nor voice to give them a glad hello
But only a Coast Guard cutter, to offer them a tow

And now you've heard my story, I have not detained you long,
Concerning our hero, Lewis Mills, let's toast him with a song.
Here's giving the record to Lewis Mills, likewise his noble son
For instead of going in 40 days, they made the trip in one.


(from Dwayne's record notes on Dwayne Thorpe, Minstrel JD209:
I perpetrated this song in 1967, and have lived in mortal fear of Lewis
Mills ever since. Everything in the song is true, and the events were
well-publicized in Massachusetts at the time. Mills' departure from
Stage Fort Park, in Gloucester, was even filmed by Boston television
crews, but there was considerably less interest in his return. Most of
details in the song, even some of its language, were taken from the
Gloucester Daily Times for March 17 and 18, 1967. To make a good song
I would be willing to exaggerate the absurdities, but there was no need.
The melody is from "The Handsome Cabin Boy", a song often sung by
the Gloucester singer, Peter Marston, during the two years when I was
his neighbor.

@sailor
filename[ LMILLS
play.exe CABINBOY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF LYDIA PINKHAM

Let us sing (let us sing) of Lydia Pinkham
   The benefactress of the human race.
She invented a vegetable compound,
   And now all papers print her face,

O, Mrs. Brown could do no housework,
   O, Mrs. Brown could do no housework,
She took three bottles of Lydia's conpound,
   And now there's nothing she will shirk,
                           she will shirk,

Mrs. Jones she had no children,
   And she loved them very dear.
So she took three bottles of Pinkham's
   Now she has twins every year.

Lottie Smyth ne'er had a lover,
   Blotchy pimples caused her plight;
But she took nine bottles of Pinkham's--
   Sweethearts swarm about her each night.

Oh Mrs. Murphy (Oh Mrs. Murphy)
     Was perturbed because she couldn't seem to pee
Till she took some of Lydia's compound
     And now they run a pipeline to the sea!

And Peter Whelan (Peter Whelan)
     He was sad because he only had one nut
Till he took some of Lydia's compound
     And now they grow in clusters 'round his butt.


From My Pious Friends and Drunken Companions, Shay with some extras from RG's
     mis-spent youth.
@bawdy @medicine
filename[ LYDIAPNK
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF MAE WEST'S BUST
(Earl H. Emmons)

My eyes have seen upon life's screen the wreck of countless dreams,
Where e'er I turn 'tis but to learn that naught is as it seems,
And 'neath the sun I've found but one tradition I can trust,
One thing that's sure and does endure
Is Mae West's bust.

My many years are wet with tears as down my checkered way
All I held true went up the flue and perished day by day;
I've viewed with grief each pet belief go crumbling into dust
Till quite bereft there's nothing left
But Mae West's bust.

The world is nuts and filled with mutts who should have died at birth;
We're led by heels with no ideals and morons rule the earth;
Our ancient creeds are crushed by greed, by graft and bunk and
lust
Till naught remains that's sure and sane
But Mae West's bust.

Nor friends nor fame remain the same, and life's a hollow shell,
I'm betting odds there are no gods, nor Paradise nor Hell;
No lucid laws, no Santa Claus; injustice rules the just;
In all life's range all models change
But Mae West's bust.

Though void of hope, still on I grope for something staunch and real,
My slender faith a frazzled wraith, yet seeking some ideal,
till wracked by care and black despair and glutted with disgust
My heart would stop without the prop
Of Mae West's bust.

Then let us crown this matchless mound for the courage it instills;
Oh noble shrine! Oh domes divine! Eternal as the hills;
Serene and fair it rises there, one promise we can trust,
One changeless thing to which we cling;
Mae West's bust.
note: tune not supplied, but it sings well to Auld Lang Syne. RG
filename[ MAESBUST
play.exe AULDLANG
SW
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF PAT BRADY
(Don Minifie)

Now me name is Pat Brady, I'm just twenty-eight.
A curious story to you I'll relate.
Just before I left Ireland, me mother did say,
Now remember, young Patrick, that crime does not pay.

I'm a strapping young fellow and not known to shirk,
And I found me a job at the building site work.
I saved up me money each week in a jar,
'til at last I'd enough for to buy an old car.

Well, now parking in London's not easy to do,
Though you might want to wait but a moment of two;
And wherever I went I was on yellow lines,
Which is how I began to accrue parking fines.

Well, I next lost me job and I had to sign on,
So the money to pay off the fines was all gone.
So I said to meself, just sit tight and don't pay,
And then if you ignore it, it might go away.

But now things didn't work out the way that I'd thought.
For non-payment of fines I was summonsed to court.
For non-payment of fines the old justice did say,
We will send you to prison for twenty-eight days.

Well, the thought of that prison, to me it was hell,
For they did not discern who they put in your cell,
And I shared with this fellow, a reprobate thief,
Who was doing three years there for robbing a safe.

Still, I learned everything about safes that he knew,
So that when I came out I knew just what to do.
I went straight to a bookies, and blew the safe wide,
And a thousand green smackers were waiting inside.

Now I'm living in style off me ill-gotten gains.
Scotland Yard have not caught me for all their fine brains.
Some people may tell you that crime does not pay,
But with me it worked out just the opposite way.

@crime @Irish @money
filename[ PATBRADY
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF PERSSE O'REILLY
(James Joyce)

1.  Have you heard of one Humpty Dumpty
    How he fell with a roll and a rumble
    And curled up like Lord Olofa Crumple
    By the butt of the Magazine Wall

    (CHORUS) Of the Magazine Wall/Hump, helmet and all?

2.  He was one time our King of the Castle
    Now he's kicked about like a rotten old parsnip.
    And from Green Street he'll be sent by order of His Worship
    To the penal jail of Mountjoy

    (CHORUS) To the jail of Mountjoy!/Jail him and joy.

3.  He was fafafather of all schemes for to bother us
    Slow coaches and immaculate contraceptives for the populace,
    Mare's milk for the sick, seven dry Sundays a week,
    Openair love and religion's reform,

    (CHORUS) And religious reform/Hideous in form.

4.  Arrah, why, says you, couldn't he manage it?
    I'll go bail, me fine dairyman darling,
    Like the bumping bull of the Cassidys
    All your butter is in your horns

    (CHORUS) His butter is in his horns./Butter his horns!

    (Repeat) Hurrah there, Hosty, frosty Hosty, change that shirt on ye,
    Rhyme the rann, the king of all ranns!

5.  We had chaw chaw chops, chairs, chewing gum, the chicken pox and china
        chambers
    Universally provided by this soffsoaping salesman.
    Small wonder He'll Cheat E'erawan our local lads nicknamed him
    When Chimpden first took the floor

    (CHORUS) With his bucketshop store/Down Bargainweg, Lower.

6.  So snug he was in his hotel premises sumptuous
    But soon we'll bonfire all his trash, tricks and trumpery
    And 'tis short till sheriff Clancy'll be winding up his unlimited
        company
    With the bailiff's bom at the door

    (CHORUS) Bimbam at the door/Then he'll bum no more.

7.  Sweet bad luck on the waves washed to our island
    The hooker of the hammerfast viking
    And Gall's curse on the day when Eblana bay
    Saw his black and tan man-o'-war

    (CHORUS) Saw his man-o'-war/On the harbour bar.

8.  Where from? roars Poolbeg.  Cookingha'pence, he bawls Donnez-moi
        scampitle, wick an wipin'fampiny
    Fingal Mac Oscar Onesine Bargearse Boniface
    Thok's min gammelhole Norveegickers moniker
    Og as ay are at gammelhore Norveegickers cod.

    (CHORUS) A Norwegian camel old cod./He is, begod.

    Lift it, Hosty, lift it, ye devil ye! up with the rann, the rhyming
        rann!

9.  It was during some fresh water garden pumping
    Or according to the Nursing Mirror, while admiring the monkeys
    That our heavyweight heathen Humpharey
    Made bold a maid to woo

    (CHORUS) Woohoo, what'll she doo!/The general lost her maidenloo!

10. He ought to blush for himself, the old hayheaded philosopher
    For to go and shove himself that way on top of her.
    Begob, he's the crux of the catalogue
    Of our antediluvial zoo

    (CHORUS) Messrs. Billing and Coo./Noah's larks, good as noo.

11. He was joulting by Wellinton's monument
    Our rotorious hipppopopotamuns
    When some bugger let down the backtrap of the omnibus
    And he caught his death of fusiliers,

    (CHORUS) With his rent in his rears./Give him six years.

12. 'Tis sore pity for his innocent poor children
    But look out for his missus legitimate!
    When that frew gets a grip of old Earwicker
    Won't there be earwigs on the green?

    (CHORUS) Big earwigs on the green,/The largest ever you seen.

    Suffoclose! Shikespower! Suedodanto! Anonymoses!

13. Then we'll have a free trade Gaels' band and mass meeting
    For to sod the brave son of Scandiknavery
    And we'll bury him down in Oxmanstown
    Along with the devil and Danes,

    (CHORUS) With the deaf and dumb Danes,/And all their remains.

14. And not all the king's men nor his horses
    Will resurrect his corpus
    For there's no true spell in Connacht or hell

    (BIS) That's able to raise a Cain.

in Finnegans Wake.
Note "perce d'oreille" is French for "earwig".
Recorded in part by the Dubliners.
filename[ PERCRILY
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF REAL ALE
(Kevin Pratt)

Come all you bold lads that drink Brum beer,
Sit down by the bar and a tale you shall hear,
Of the Midlander's Mecca where real ale is sold
And the Black Country pubs that produce liquid gold, for it's

     Real Ale, not bottled ale, or pressurised drum beer
     But pump-pulled pure nectar, full-bodied and clear;
     If you drink of this liquid, you're bound for to say,
     Skidderly addle raddle faddle ladle fal ral di day.

There was Malcolm and Margaret, with Colin and Gale,
Two Michaels and Kevin in search of good ale;
``No more Brew Eleven or Ansels!'' they cried,
As down Hagley Road through the twilight they sped, seeking

With precise navigation all eager and dry
To The Castle in Netherton the cars they did fly.
``D'you want glasses with handles, or straight?'' the girl said,
As she drew the bright bitter with white frothy head, it was

Well, the bitter was served and the dark malty mild,
With joy and enrapture our hearts were beguiled.
Simkiss the Brewers with praises we blessed,
And another round ordered, just to re-test of this, for it's

Quite warmed to our calling, we started with haste
For Bathams Delph Brewery, their mixture to taste.
It was sweet, clear, well-hopped and it flowed in the glass,
And in friendly good comp'ny a half-hour did pass, drinking

At last we set out for our final abode,
At Pardoes Old Swan on the Halesowen Road,
With Victorian ceiling, enameled and white,
And pot-bellied stove to cheer up the night, along with

Mild, bitter and lager was ordered with cheer,
While the barmaid looked on with the hint of a sneer,
``We have Homebrew and Homebrew or Homebrew,'' she mused
As she drew all the drinks from the one pump she used, it was

Well, up north they've McEwan, Maclay and Old Tom,
In the south Elgood, Everard or Pope to choose from.
But Simkiss and Bathams we'll ever revere,
And Pardoes' Homebrew unto death we'll hold dear, for it's

@drink
Copyright Kevin Pratt
filename[ REALALE
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF THE BOBBIT HILLBILLIES

Here's a little story of a man named John,
A poor ex-marine (with a little fraction gone)
It seems one night after gettin' with the wife
She lopped off his schlong with the swipe of a knife.
(Penis, that is)
(Rodeoed, fillet-ioed)

Well the next thing you know there's a Ginsu by his side
And Lorena's in the car takin' Willie for a ride,
She soon got tired of her purple-headed friend
And tossed him out the window as she rounded out a bend.
(Curve, that is)
(Pricker shrubs, wheel hubs)

She went to the cops and confessed to the attack
And they called out the hounds just to get his weenie back
They sniffed, and they barked, and they pointed "over there"
To John Wayne's henry that was wavin' in the air.
(Found, that is)
(By a fence, evidence)

Now peter and John couldn't stay apart too long
So a dick-doc said, "Hey! I can fix your dong
A needle and a thread's just the thing you're gonna need."
Then the world held its breath 'till they heard that John peed.
(Wizzed, that is)
(Stitched seam, straight stream)

Well, he healed, and he hardened, and he took the case to court
With a cock-eyed lawyer (since his assets came up short),
The cleared her of assault and acquitted him of rape
And his pecker was the only one they didn't show on tape.
(Video, that is)

tune: Ballad of Jed Clampett (Beverly Hillbillies theme)
@parody @bawdy @law
filename[ BBBTHILL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF THE CO VAN MY
(T.C. Cooper & L.F. DeMouche plus others)

You have heard of mighty warriors, you have heard of deadly fights
When broadswords clashed and cannon flashed through bloody days
     and nights;
There's many a fearsome fighting man in the halls of history,
But they can't hold a candle to the brave young Co Van My.

The Russian revolution would have never come to pass
If the Co Van My had been there to advise the ruling class;
Ho Chi Minh would be a Democrat if they were on his team
And China's dark ambitions would be a foolish dream.

Napoleon flourished briefly but his empire soon collapsed,
Cleopatra's dreams of glory terminated with an asp;
Caesar had his Brutus, but anyone can see
These people would have made it if they'd had a Co Van My.

The ordinary Co Van can play a thousand parts
From a deadly jungle killer to a patron of the arts,
He will talk of epic struggles, days of blood and fire and sweat,
He'll be written up in Newsweek, but he ain't seen a VC yet.

The only VC that he's seen cut grass at his mess hall
So he took his trusty Pen double E and down he mowed them all.
Now he has photographic proof of legions of VC,
And he'll build a lie as high as the sky about being a Co Van My.

The sergeant-major showed him in and marched him to his room,
Said, "Hang your carbine on the wall and if you hear a boom
Rally to the bunker with your weapon and steel pot
Or else hide in the handball court, it's the strongest place we've got."

L-19's leap skyward, to seek the weary foe
They run the hills and ridges from Bong Sonh to Bung Ro;
With a tiger in the cockpit and an aspirant in the back,
They're the bravest men in Binh Dinh, 'cause the VC has no flak.

     SPOKEN: The S2 is the intelligence advisor.

The S2 sits behind his desk and sighs and moans and flaps
Chasing mythical battalions across outdated maps,
With "probably" and "possibly" and "indications are",
He worries hell out of the men who try to fight the war.

He paints a picture of despair as he talks of the VC might,
A crow of evil omen, only his eyes are bright
He speaks of hordes and legion, and cannon hid in huts
He scares hell out of Saigon, but Division thinks he's nuts.

At winning paper victories the S2 has no peer,
As he sits down at the O club with his whiskey and his beer,
He'll never lose a battle, he'll always win that fight
But his TOC gets mortared every other night.

The JG's daily recon is the teror of the beach
Calling naval gunfire missions on everything in reach.
He sees VC in every hootch, supplies in every boat
He's killed one hundred fishermen, twelve chickens and a goat.

The naval gunfire spotter is professionally proud,
He's never hit a target, but his guns are awfully loud.
"Delay fuse, right eight hundred," the cruisers pitch and lurch,
"Cease fire, end of mission, boys, we got that VC church!"

His intelligence is six months old, his native wit is nil,
For him, the trees teem with VCs and regiments crowd each hill,
He has no kinfolk in the wood, there's naught for him to lose,
So if in doubt, he'll always shout, "Send in B-52's!"

SPOKEN: Now we're going down to Saigon, where there was
  a special brand of Co Van My. The further they got away
from the combat, the more heavily armed they traveled.

He wears a jungle uniform and he moves with a tiger's stealth,
He keeps his weapons sharp and clean and he's careful of his
     health,
He moves with a heavy escort, in danger every day
And drives to Cholon twice a say to earn his combat pay.

His shirt is open to the breeze, his hat's down over his eye,
A Thompson's slung across his back, there's a pistol on each
     thigh,
Grenades are fastened to his belt, there's a knife in either
     boot,
As he drives his forklift up and down the streets of Than Son
     Nhut.

The FAC rides forth to battle, a warrior without match
In his monogrammed flight jacket and his F-100 patch;
Put napalm on a hamlet and burnt the whole thing flat
Got a thousand non-combatants, and he's sorry about that.

from THE LONGEST YEAR, Bowen, Fish and Harmon
Note: Co Van My translates to " American Advisor"
@war @army @Vietnam
filename[ COVANMY
play.exe WABASHCB
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF THE GREEN BERETS
(Barry Saddler)

Fighting soldiers from the sky
Fearless men who jump and die,
Men who mean just what they say.
The brave men of the Green Beret.

cho: Silver wings upon their chests,
     These are men, America's best.
     100 men we'll test today
     And only three win the Green Beret.

Trained to live off nature's land
Trained to combat hand to hand
Men who fight by night and day
Courage take from the Green Beret.

Back at home a young wife waits
Her Green Beret has met his fate
He has died for those oppressed
Leaving her this last request:

last cho:
     Put silver wings on my son's chest
     Make him one of America's best
     He'll be a man they'll test one day
     Have him win the Green Beret.

@war @Vietnam
filename[ GRNBERET
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLAD OF THE TEA PARTY

Tea ships near to Boston lying on the wharf a numerous crew
Sons of freedom, never dying then appeared in view

  With a rink tum, dink tum, fa la link tum
  Then appeared in view
  With a rink tum, dink tum, fa la link tum
  Then appeared in view

Armed with hammers, axes, chisels, weapons new for warlike deed
Toward the tax-ed, freighted vessels, on they came with speed

  (similarly)

Overboard she goes, my boys, heave ho where darkling waters roar
We love our cup of tea full well, but love our freedom more

Deep, into the sea descended cursed weed of China's coast
Thus at once our fears were ended, rights shall ne'er be lost

@America @war @history
printed in Burl Ives Songbook, 1953
tune, "Sailor's Complaint" or "Come and Listen to my Ditty" 1730
filename[ TEAPART
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF TONYA HARDING
(Gale Hathaway)

Born out in Oregon, "God's Country"
Raised in rural Clackamas County
She's had more daddies than either you or me
Been skating on the ice since she was only three
Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

All the skating princesses, dressed in pink
Tonya would skate by and snarl, "You stink!"
I'll beat your butt, that's what I think
Or better yet, my bodyguard will find you off the rink."
Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

She met Jeff Gillooly as a winsome teen
And said "I kinda like him, 'cause he's dumb and mean
They had the wildest fights you've ever seen
But he knew that he'd be king if Tonya became queen.
Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

So they searched Clackamas County for a few men
(Cumulative IQ nearly reaching ten!)
Jeff said "I wanna be rich, but when oh when?"
Clearly, the stumbling block was Nancy Kerrigan.
Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

Tonya would be skating at the top of the heap
If they could just do away with Nancy, in her sleep
Or maybe on TV so the world could see her weep
Bruise her quadriceps so she couldn't spin and leap!
Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

The bodyguard and hitmen admitted "We were wrong
Put us away, but please not for too long."
And Tonya said, "Take Jeff - he was in it all along
I'II skate alone before my small pinhead throng.
Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

Well, some think that Tonya's rather brash
And some watch her skate and hope to see her crash
Some think that skating in the Olympics would be rash
But the handwriting experts say "You shoulda burned your trash!"
Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

No, the thing you must understand is, out in Oregon
Our brains are kinda soggy cause we never see the sun,
So Packwood and Harding seem like "good clean fun"
She's our Tonya, Tonya Harding, Queen of the Skating Thugs!

(to the tune of The Ballad of Davy Crockett)
copyright 1994 Gale Hathaway
@parody @sport
filename[ TONYAHRD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BALLAD OF WILLIAM BLOAT
(Raymond Calvert)

In a mean abode on the Skankill Road
Lived a man named William Bloat;
He had a wife, the curse of his life,
Who continually got his goat.
So one day at dawn, with her nightdress on
He cut her bloody throat.

With a razor gash he settled her hash
Oh never was crime so quick
But the drip drip drip on the pillowslip           '
Of her lifeblood made him sick.
And the pool of gore on the bedroom floor
Grew clotted and cold and thick.

And yet he was glad he had done what he had
When she lay there stiff and still
But a sudden awe of the angry law
Struck his heart with an icy chill.
So to finish the fun so well begun
He resolved himself to kill.

He took the sheet from the wife's coul' feet
And twisted it into a rope
And he hanged himself from the pantry shelf,
'Twas an easy end, let's hope.
In the face of death with his latest breath
He solemnly cursed the Pope.

But the strangest turn to the whole concern
Is only just beginning.
He went to Hell but his wife got well
And she's still alive and sinning.
For the razor blade was German made
But the sheet was Belfast linen.

From Songs of Belfast, Hammond
@Irish @murder @suicide
filename[ WMBLOAT
play.exe WMBLOAT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLS OF O'LEARY

The balls of O'Leary,
Are wrinkled and hairy,
They're stately and shapely,
Like the dome of Saint Paul's.
The women all muster,
To view that great cluster,
Oh, they stand and they stare,
At the bloody great pair,
Of O'Leary's balls.

Tune: Bells of Saint Marys
@bawdy @parody
filename[ BALLOLEA
play.exe BELLSSTM
XX
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALLYBAY

In the town of Ballybay, there was a lassie dwellin'
I knew her very well, and her story's worth-a-tellin'.
Her father kept a still, and he was a good distiller,
But when she took to the drinkin' what the devil wouldn't fill 'er.

Wish me ring-a-ding-a-dong, a-ring-a-ding-a-derrio,
A-ring-a-ding-a-dong, whack fol' the derrio.

And she said she couldn't dance, unless she had her welly on,
But when she had it on, she could dance as well as anyone.
She wouldn't go to bed, unless she had her shimmy on,
But when she had it on, she would go to bed with anyone.

Chorus (Wish me ring...)

Well she had a wooden leg, it was hollow down the middle,
And she used to tie a string on it and play it like a fiddle.
She fiddled in the hall, she fiddled in the alleyway,
She didn't give a damn, she had to fiddle anyway.

Chorus

She had lovers by the score, every Tom and Dick and Harry,
She was courted night and day, but still she wouldn't marry.
And then she fell in love with a fella with a stammer,
When he tried to run away, she hit him with a hammer.

Chorus

They had children by the score, they had children by the byer,
And another ten or twelve sittin' growin' by the fire.
She fed 'em on potatas and on soup she made from nettles,
And on lumps of hairy bacon that she boiled up in the kettle.

Chorus

So she led a sheltered life, eatin' porridge and black puddin'
And she terrorized her man, until he died right sudden.
And when her fella died, she was feelin' kinda sorry,
So she rolled him in a sheet, and she threw him in the quarry.

Chorus

@Irish
filename[ BALLYBAY
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A BALLYNURE BALLAD

As I was goin' to Ballynure,
The day I well remember,
For to view the lads and lasses
On the fifth day of November,
With a ma-ring-doo-a-day,
With a ma-ring-a-doo-a-daddy oh.

As I was goin' along the road
When homeward I was walking,
I heard a wee lad behind a ditch-a
To his wee lass talking,
With a ma-ring-----etc.

Said the wee lad to the wee lass
"It's will ye let me kiss ye,
For it's I have the cordial eye
That far exceeds the whiskey,"
With a ma-ring-----etc.

This cordial that ye talk about
There's very few o' them gets it,
For there's nothin' now but crooked combs
And muslin gowns can catch it.
With a ma-ring-----etc.

Repeat second verse

@Scots @love
filename[ BALLYNUR
play.exe BALLYNUR
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALM IN GILEAD

cho: There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded whole,
     There is a balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.

Sometimes I feel discouraged
And think my work's in vain
But then the Holy spirit
Revives my soul again.

Don't ever feel discouraged
Your Father is your friend;
And if you lack for knowledge
He'll not refuse to lend.

@religious @spiritual @America
filename[ BALMGIL
play.exe BALMGIL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BALTIMORE FIRE

It was on a silver falls by a narrow
That I heard the cry I ever will remember,
The fire sent and cast its burning embers
On another faded city of our land.

cho: Fire,  Fire, I heard the cry
     From every breeze that passes by,
     All the world was one sad cry of pity
     Strong men in anguish prayed,
     Calling loud to Heaven for aid,
     While the fire in ruin was laying
     Fair Baltimore, the beautiful city

Amid an awful struggle of commotion,
The wind blew a gale from the ocean,
Brave firemen struggled with devotion,
But their efforts all proved in vain.
cho:

From New Lost City Ramblers; originally recorded by Charlie
     Poole.
@fire
filename[ BALTFIRE
play.exe BALTFIRE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAMBOO BRIER
 or Bramble Briar or Jealous Brothers

Across Bridgewater a rich man lived,
He had three sons and a daughter fair;
He divided up their equal portion,
Seven thousand pounds was his daughter's share

Seven thousand was his daughter's portion,
The maid being brisk and a comely dame:
She fancied a young man who plowed the ocean,
And unto him she bestowed the same.

One night, as they were sitting courting,
Her two brothers chanced to overhear
They vowed the courtship should be broken
Or send him headlong to his grave.

So early next morning they forced him hunting,
Over high hills and lofty mountains,
Through silent places quite unknown
Until they came to bamboo briers,
Where they did him kill and slay.

As soon as they returned from hunting,
She quickly asked for the servant-man:
"You seem to whisper, what makes me ask you,
Pray, brothers, tell me, if you can."

"We lost him in our game of hunting
His face again you will nevermore see
We lost him in the bamboo briers,
His face, his face, you'll see no more "

Early next morning she started to hunt him
Over hills and lofty mountains,
Through silent places quite unknown
Until she came to the bamboo briers,
There she found him killed and slain.
Three days and nights she stayed there with him
kissing him just as he lay:
"One grave will bury us both my darling;
I'll stay here with you until I die."

Three days and nights she stayed there with him
Seeking life for her sad mourn:
She felt sharp hunger come creeping o'er her,
And back home she was forced to return.

When she returned from where they were hunting
They quickly asked, "Where's the servant-man?"
"You cursed villains did that murder,
And for the crime you both shall hang."

Then they both darkened their faces
They walked slowly off down by the seaside
The fearful waves rushed from the ocean
And caused their faces from this world to hide
From Folk-Songs of the South by John Harrington Cox.
Collected from Hannah Moore who learned it from her mother,
Hannah Ross, a native of Virginia.
closely related to Bruton Town
@murder @family @courting
filename[ JEALBRO2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAMPTON FAIR
(Paul Wilson)

Are you going to Bampton Fair,
Get your beer down, bob, we're moving --
Are you going to Bampton Fair, boy?
I'll go to the fair like we always done,
Get in the car and give it a run,
Get a few friends and have some fun.
All at the Bampton Fair, boy,
All at the Bampton Fair.

Who did you see at Bampton Fair,
Who did you see at Bampton Fair, boy?
Young ones, old ones, me and you,
Travelers, farmers, visitors too,
They even had a T.V. crew,
What did you drink at Bampton Fair,
What did you drink at Bampton Fair, boy?
Twenty-one pints and one for me head,
Or a scotch or a brandy or a pot instead,
All served up in a muddy old shed,

What did you buy at Bampton Fair,
What did you buy at Bampton Fair, boy?
A crocker set that's got no cups,
A brand new shirt that's got no cuffs,
A bloomin' old grai that's got no puff,

What did you get at Bampton Fair,
What did you get at Bampton Fair, boy?
Two black eyes and a broken nose,
Caught a cold and I damn near froze,
A bump on me head and I tore me clothes,
Will you go next year to Bampton Fair,
Will you go next year to Bampton Fair, boy?
If the pubs are open and the beer is free,
If the landlord says, ``It's all on me.''
If I can't think of anywhere else to be,
@drink
Copyright Paul Wilson
filename[ BMPTONFR
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANANA REPUBLICS
(Steve Goodman )

 G                            Am
Down to the Banana Republics down to the tropical sun.
             D                  G
Come the expatriated American expecting to have some fun.

                                   Am
Some of them come for the sailing drawn by the lure of the sea.
    D                                   G
To cure the spirit that's ailing from living in the land of the free.

                                       Am
Some of them are running from lovers leaving no forward address.
    D                                         G
Some of them are running marijuana some are running from the IRS.

 Dm                                     Am
Late at night you can see them in the cheap hotels and bars.
 C              G                D                G
Hustling the senoritas as they dance beneath the stars.
 Dm                                Am
Spending the renegade pesos on a bottle of rum and a lime.
         C                         G             D            G
Singing give me some words I can dance to and a melody that rhymes.

                                   Am
Once you learn the native customs and a word of Spanish or two.
          D                                      G
Then you know you can't trust them because they know they can't trust you.

                             Am
Down to the Banana Republics it is not always as warm as it seems.
      D                                   G
When none of the natives are buying and second have American Dreams.
                           Am
Expatriated American are feeling so all alone.
  D                                         G
Telling themselves the same lies that they told themselves at home.

Copyright Turnpike Tom Music
@travel @political
filename[ BANANREP
RW
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAND O' SHEARERS
  or GANG NAE MAIR TAE THE SHEARING

When simmer days and heather bells
Come reelin ower yon hieland hills
There's yellow corn in a' the fields
And the autumn brings the shearin'

cho: Bonnie lassie, will ye gang
     And shear wi' me the whole day lang?
     And love will cheer us as we gang
     Tae join the band o' shearers


And gin the weather, it be hot
I'll cast my cravat and cast me coat
And we will join the happy lot
As they gang tae the shearin'

And gin the thistle be ower strang
An' pierce your lily, milk white hand
It's wi' my hook, I'll cut it doon
As we gang tae the band o' shearers

An' if the folk that's passing by
Say there is love 'tween you and I
An' we will proudly pass them by
As we gae tae the shearin'

An' when the shearin' is a' dune
We'll hae some roaring, rantin' fun
We'll hae some roarin', rantin fun
An' forget the toils o' shearin'

final cho:
     So bonnie lassie, bricht and fair
     Will ye be mine for ever mair?
     Gin  ye'll be  mine, syne I'll be thine
     And we'll gang nae mair tae the shearin'
@Scots @work @sheep @love
sung by Norman Kennedy
from Willie Scott Songbook
filename[ BANSHEAR
play.exe BANSHEAR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAND OF JESSE JAMES
(Jim Ringer)

He's wild as a half-grown child at a grown-up party;
Like a mustang dang near tearing down the stall.
He's the kind to pay no mind of what he started;
He don't care, 'cause he'll be somewhere else by Fall.
A wanted man in Reno, he moves on to Coeur D'Alene.
You know, that man could've rode with the band of Jesse James.

He's a funny son-of-a-gun, he keeps you laughing,
But he's a drummer with a bill of goods to sell.
He told that girl he loved her, just in passing;
Well, he was playing, she's still paying 'cause she fell.
He stole that woman's heart just like the outlaws robbed the trains.
You know, that man could've rode with the band of Jesse James.

He couldn't stay, he slipped away like an outlaw on the run.
Wild horses couldn't catch him, you couldn't hold him with a gun.

He'll be caught, he ought to know they'll find him.
There's no place on the face of the earth that man can hide.
And there won't be no one like me to stand behind him.
I can't help myself if I act satisfied.
So hang him, dang him, I don't care; let the world forget his name.
You know, that man could've rode with the band of Jesse James.

He'll be caught, he ought to know they'll find him.
There ain't no place on the face of the earth that man can hide.
And there won't be no one like me to stand behind him.
I can't help myself if I act satisfied.
So hang him, dang him, I don't care; let the world forget his name.
You know, that man could've rode with the band of Jesse James.

(Repeat last line)
@outlaw
filename[ BANDOFJJ
SBK
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BAND PLAYED ON
(John Palmer and Charles Ward)

Matt Casey formed a social club that beat the town for style,
And hired for a meeting place a hall;
When payday came around each week they greased the floor with wax
And danced with noise and vigor at the ball.
Each Saturday you'd see them dressed up in Sunday clothes
Each lad would have his sweetheart by his side,
When Casey led the first grand march they all would fall in line
Behind the man who was their joy and pride, For

cho:    Casey would waltz with a strawberry blonde
        And the band play'd on.
        He'd glide 'cross the floor with the girl he adored
        And the band play'd on.
        But his brain was so loaded it nearly exploded
        The poor girl would shake with alarm.
        He'd ne'er leave the girl with the strawberry curls
        And the band played on.

Such kissing in the corner and such whisp'ring in the hall,
And telling tales of love behind the stairs.
As Casey was the favorite and he that ran the ball,
Of kissing and lovemaking did his share.
At twelve o'clock exactly they all would fall in line
Then march down to the dining hall and eat.
But Casey would not join them although ev'ry thing was fine,
But he'd stayed upstairs and exercise his feet, For

cho:

Now when the dance was over and the band played Home Sweet Home,
They played a tune at Casey's own request.
He thank'd them very kindly for the favors they had shown,
Then he'd waltz once with the girl that he loved best.
Most all the friends are married that Casey used to know,
And Casey too has taken him a wife.
The blond he used to waltz and glide with on the ball room floor,
Is happy Missis Casey now for life, For

cho:

@dance
filename[ PLAYEDON
play.exe PLAYEDON
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA
(Eric Bogle)

          Now when I was a young man I carried me pack
          And I lived the free life of the rover.
          From the Murry's green basin to the dusty outback,
          Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.
          Then in 1915 my country said, "Son,
          It's time you stop rambling, there's work to be done."
          So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
          And they marched me away to the war.
               And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
               As the ship pulled away from the quay
               And midst all the cheers, flag waving and tears,
               We sailed off for Gallipoli

     And how well I remember that terrible day,
     How our blood stained the sand and the water
     And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
     We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
     Johnny Turk, he was ready, he primed himself well.
     He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shells,
     And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
     Nearly blew us back home to Australia.
          (But) And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
          As we stopped to bury our slain,
          We buried ours, the Turks buried theirs,
          Then we started all over again.

     And those that were left, well we tried to survive
     In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
     And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
     Though around me the corpses piled higher.
     Then a big Turkish shell knocked me ass over head
     And when I awoke in me hospital bed
     And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead.
     Never knew there were worse things than dying.
          For I'll go no more Waltzing Matilda,
          All around the green bush far and free
          To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs,
          No more waltzing Matilda for me.

     So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, and maimed,
     And they shipped us back home to Australia.
     The legless, the armless, the blind and insane,
     Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
     And when our ship pulled into Circular Quay
     I looked at the place where me legs used to be
     And I thank Christ there was no body waiting for me
     To grieve, to mourn and to pity.
          But the Band played Waltzing Matilda
          As they carried us down the gangway,
          But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
          Then they turned all their faces away.

     So now every April I sit on me porch
     And I watch the parade pass before me.
     And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march
     Reviving old dreams and past glory,
     And the old men march slowly, all bone stiff and sore
     They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
     And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"
     And I ask myself the same question.
          But the band plays Waltzing Matilda,
          And the old men still answer the call,
          But as year follows year, more old men disappear
          Someday, no one will march there at all.


     Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda.
     Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?
     And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billibong
     Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?

Copyright Larrikin Music, Ltd.
@war @soldier @Australia
filename[ BANDPLAY
play.exe BANDPLAY
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA (2)

When I was a young man I played the guitar
And I lived the free life of the rover
From Brisbane's green river
To each dusty folk bar
I waltzed my old Martin all over

But in each club I played in
The people said, " Son
We do like your singing
But when I was done
They would leap on the stage
Saying now I'll sing you one"
And this is the song that they sang me:

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
And the audience forgot about me
So amidst all the tears, flag waving and cheers
I went to the loo for a pee.

How well I remember that terrible day
How my blood boiled much hotter than water
For up to that time I'd been well on me way
To wooing the publican's daughter.

Johnny Turk he was there
And he sang the song well
I rained him with insults
And truth is to tell
I wished Eric Bogle
Had gone straight to hell
And never had come to Australia.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
It was such a well-loved refrain
And when Johnny Turk was finished, the berk
Went and sang it all over again.

So now every April I sits on me porch
And I watch my past life go before me
And I wish I had written that rambling song
That brought Eric Bogle such glory

The songs that I wrote
I don't sing 'em no more
They're tiring old songs
From a tiring old bore
And when young people ask
What did he write them for
I ask myself the same question.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
And the singers respond to the call
As year after year all my hopes disappear
That no one will sing it at all

@parody @folkmusic @music
filename[ BANDPLY2
play.exe BANDPLAY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANG BANG LULU

Lulu had two boyfriends, both of them were rich
One was the son of a baker, the other was the son of a ...

Behind the refrigerator lies a piece of glass
Johnny tried to get it and fell upon his ...

Ask me nor more questions, I'll tell me  o more lies
The boys are in the bathroom, pulling down their...

Flies in the buttermilk, shoo fly shoo
Flies in the buttermilk, shoo
Flies in the buttermilk, shoo fly shoo
And that's the end of Lululu

Also sung with a chorus of:
   Bang bang Lulu, Lulu bang bang
   Who's gonna bang for Lulu
   When Lulu's gone away

Or with a chorus of
   I yi yi yi, in China they do it for chili
   Here comes another verse that's worse than the other verse
   So waltz me around again Willie

Note: bang bang was really gang bang, I'm told, but at that age
who knew that bang meant anything but a loud noise, so we sang
bang bang.

@kids
filename[ BANGLULU
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANG LULU

Bang away Lulu
Bang it good and strong,
What in the Hell will the Navy do
When good old Lulu's gone?

Some girls work in factories,
Some girls work in stores,
But Lulu works in a dockside house,
With forty other whores.

Lulu had a baby,
It was her pride and joy
Would have named it Lulu
But the bastard was a boy.

She took me to the picture show,
We sat down in the stalls,
And every time the lights went out,
She grabbed me in the ... nose.

She took me to the mountaintop
And made me on the hill,
`Cause everytime I said, "I won't"
My echo said, "I will."

I wish I was a diamond ring,
On my Lulu's hand,
And every time she scratched her butt,
I'd see the Promised Land.

Well, I asked her for to marry me,
She said, "That's very nice,
But I'll give you a better deal,
I'll let you ride half price."

@bawdy
recorded by Oscar Brand on Bawdy Sea Songs
filename[ BANGLU2
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKERS AND THE DIPLOMATS

INTRO
    Last night, I had the strangest dream,
    I saw a big parade, with ticker-tape galore,
    And men were marching there the like [in the ranks]
    I'd never seen before:

1.  Oh, the bankers and the diplomats are going in the army:
    Oh, happy day, I'd spend my pay to see them on parade,
    Their paunches at attention and their stri-ped pants at ease -
    They've gotten patriotic and they're going overseas.
    We'll have to do the best we can and bravely carry on,
    So we'll just keep the laddies here to manage while they're gone.

cho: Oh, we hate to see them go!
     The gentlemen of distinction in the army!

2.  The bankers and the diplomats are going in the army
    It seems a shame to keep them from the wars they love to plan,
    We're all of us contented that they'll fight a dandy war -
    They don't need propaganda they know what they're fighting for
    They'll march away with dignity and in the best of form,
    And we'll just keep the laddies [young folk] here
    To keep [each other] the lassies warm.

3.  The bankers and the diplomats are going in the army:
    We'll have to make things easy, 'cause it's all so new and strange,
    We'll give them silver shovels when they have to dig a hole,
    And they can sing in harmony while answering the roll,
    They'll eat their old K-rations from a hand-embroidered box,
    And when they die, we'll bring 'em home and bury 'em in Fort Knox!

by Malvina Reynolds, from Faith Petric, 1977.
@political @army
filename[ BANKDIP
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS ARE MADE OF MARBLE
(Les Rice)

I've traveled 'round this country.
From shore to shining shore;
It really made me wonder
The things I heard and saw.


cho: But the banks are made of marble,
     With a guard at every door,
     And the vaults are stuffed with silver
     That the  worker* sweated for.

I saw the weary farmer,
Plowing sod and loam;
l heard the auction hammer
A-knocking down his home.

l saw the seaman standing
Idly by the shore,
l heard the bosses saying,
"Got no work for you no more."

I saw the weary miner
Scrubbing coal dust from his back,
I heard his children cryin,'
"Got no coal to heat the shack."

I've seen my brothers working
Throughout this mighty land,
l prayed we'd get together
And together make a stand.

Final Chorus:
     Then we'd own those banks of marble
     With a guard at every door
     And we'd share those vaults of silver
     That we have sweated for!
*change to fit verse
Copyright 1950 by Stormking Music Inc.]
@political
filename[ BNKMRBLE
play.exe BNKMRBLE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS O' DOON
(Robert Burns)

Ye flowery banks o'bonie Doon,
 How can ye blume sae fair;
How can ye chant, ye 1ittle birds,
  And I sae fu'o'care!

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird
  That sings upon the bough;
Thou minds me o'the happy days
  When my fause luve was true.

Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird
  That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
  And wist na o'my fate.

Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,
 To see the wood-bine twine,
And ilka bird sang o'its love,
  And sae did I o'mine.

Wi'1ightsome heart I pu'd a rose
  Frae aff its thorny tree,
And my fause luver staw the rose,
 But left the thorn wi'me.

Wi'1ightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
  Upon a mom in June:
And sae I flourish'd on the morn,
  And sae was pu'd or noon!

Note: Tune is Cambdelmore (328A)
filename[BANKBRA2
play.exe BANKBRA2
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF ALLAN WATER

By the banks of Allan Water
When the sweet springtime did fall
There I saw the miller's lovely daughter
Fairest of them all
For his wife, a soldier sought her
And a winning tongue had he
On the banks of Allan Water, none so gay as she

On the banks of Allan Water
When brown autumn spread its store
There I saw the miller's daughter
But she smiled no more
For the summer, grief had brought her
And a soldier false was he
On the banks of Allan Water, none so sad as she

On the banks of Allan Water
When the winter snow fell fast
Still was seen the miller's daughter
Chilling blew the blast
But the miller's lovely daughter
Both from cold and care were free
On the banks of Allan Water
A corpse lay she

@death @courting
by Monk Lewis
filename[ ALANWATR
play.exe ALANWATR
printed  in  Cole's Folk Songs of England,  Ireland,  Scotland  &
Wales
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF CLAUDIE

SOURCE:          Bob Pfeffer

SOURCE'S SOURCE: Lou Killen (harmony workshop, 1988 Old Songs Festival)


   D                               A7
As I walked out one evening, 'twas in the month of May
      D                         E               A
Down by a flow'ry garden where Betsy she did stray
  A7              D
I overheard this young maid in sorrow to complain
     D      A7      D      G   D         A7     D
All for her absent lover who plowed the raging main.

I stepped up to this fair maid, I caught her in surprise
She owned she did not know me, I bein' all in disguise
I said, "My charming creature, my joy  and heart's delight
How far have you to travel this dark and stormy night

All the way, kind sir, to the Claudie banks, if you will please to show
And pity a girl distracted, it's there that I must go
I am in search of a young man, and Johnny is his name
And upon the banks of Claudie I'm told he do remain

If my Johnny he were here this night he'd keep me from all harm
He's a-cruisin' the wide ocean in tempest and in storm
He's a-cruisin' the wide ocean for honor and for gain
But I'm told his ship was wreck-ed all off the coast of Spain

Now when she heard this dreadful news she fell into despair
A-wringin' of her hands and a-tearin' of her hair
"If Johnny's gone and left me, no man on earth I'll take
But upon the banks of Claudie I'll wander for his sake

Now Johnny, hearin' her say so, he could no longer stand
He drew into her arms, cryin' "Betsy, I'm that man
I am that faithless young man, all whom you thought was slain
But since we're met on Claudie banks we'll never part again.

@love @token
filename[ BCLAUDIE
RP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF GREEN WILLOW

It's of a sea captain, lived by the sea side oh
And he has courted a fair maid till she's proved with child oh

Crying, "Oh my love, what shall I do and what will become of me
For my father and mother they will both disown me"

"Go  fetch some of your father's gold and some of  your  mother's
  money
And you can sail the ocean along with your Johnny"

So  she's  fetched  some of her father's gold  and  some  of  her
  mother's money
And she's gone on board a ship along with her Johnny

They hadn't been a sailing scarce six weeks nor so many
Before she wanted woman's help and could not get any

"oh  hold  your tongue you foolish girl, oh hold your  tongue  my
  honey
For we cannot get woman's help for love nor for money"

They hadn't been a sailing scarce six miles nor so many
Before she was delivered of a beautiful baby

"Sea captain, sea captain, here's fifty pounds for thee
If you'll fetch me home safe again, both me and my baby"

"Oh no," says the sea captain, "For such a thing can never be
For tis better to loose two lives than it is to loose many"

So  he's  tied a kerchief round her head, he's tied it  soft  and
  easy
And he has thrown her right overboard, both she and her baby

"See how my love do swim, my boys, see how my love do quiver
She will never cease swimming till the banks of green willow"

"My love shall have a coffin of the gold that shines so yellow
And she shall be buried by the banks of green willow"

Child #24
@love @bastard @sea @murder
recorded by Frankie Armstrong
filename[ GREWILLO
play.exe GREWILLO
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF INVERARY

'Twas on a summer's morning, along as I did pass
On the banks of Inverary I met a com-e-ly lass.
Her hair hung over her shoulders, her eyes like stars did shine,
On the banks of Inverary I wish'd her heart was mine.

I did embrace this fair maid as fast as e'er I could,
Her hair hung over her shoulders most like to threads of gold;
Her hair hung over her shoulders, her tears like drops of dew -
"On the banks of Inverary I'm glad to meet with you."

"Leave off, my handsome young man, do not embrace me so,
For after so much kissing there comes a dreadful woe,
And if my poor heart should be ensnared and I beguil'd by thee,
On the banks of Inverary I shall walk alone," said she.

I said,  "My handsome fair maid, the truth to you I'll tell,
On the banks of Inverary twelve maidens I've beguil'd;
But I will not begin to-night, my charmer," then said he,
"On the banks of Inverary I've found my wife. " said he.

So he set this handsome fair maid on horseback very high,
"Unto some parson we will go and there the knot will tie,
And then we will sing songs of love until the day we die;
On the banks of Inverary where no-one there is nigh."

From The Constant Lovers, Purslow
@love @courting
filename[ BNKINVER
play.exe BNKINVER
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF MY OWN LOVELY LEE
(Dick Forbes and J.C. Flanahan)

How oft do my thoughts in their fancy take flight
To the home of my childhood away,
To the days when each patriot's vision seem'd bright
Ere I dreamed that those joys should decay.
When my heart was as light as the wild winds that blow
Down the Mardyke through each elm tree,
Where I sported and play'd 'neath each green leafy shade
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.

And then in the springtime oflaughterr and song
Can I ever forget the sweet hours?
With the friends of my youth as we rambled along
'Mongst the green mossy banks and wild flowers.
Then too, when the evening sun's sinking to rest
Sheds its golden light over the sea
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
The maid with her lover the wild daisies pressed
On the banks of my own lovely Lee

'Tis a beautiful land this dear isle of song
Its gems shed their light to the world
And her faithful sons bore thro' ages of wrong,
The standard St. Patrick unfurled.
Oh! would I were there with the friends I love best
And my fond bosom's partner with me
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,
We'd roam thy banks over, and when weary we'd rest
By thy waters, my own lovely Lee,

Oh what joys should be mine ere this life should decline
To seek shells on thy sea- girdled shore.
While the steel-feathered eagle, oft splashing the brine
Brings longing for freedom once more.
Oh all that on earth I wish for or crave
Is that my last crimson drop be for thee,
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee
To moisten the grass of my forefathers' grave
On the banks of my own lovely Lee.

copyright A. Shanahan and Co.
From Folksongs and Ballads Popular in Ireland, Ossian Publications
@Irish @exile @rebel @home @nostalgia
filename[ LOVLYLEE
play.exe LOVLYLEE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF NEWFOUNDLAND

(Tune: Van Dieman's Land)

Ye ramblin' boys o' Liverpool, ye sailormen beware;
When you go in a Yankee packet ship, no dungaree jumpers wear,
But have a monkey jacket all up to your command,
For there blows some cold nor'westers on the banks of Newfoundland.

cho: We'll wash her and we'll scrub her down
     With holystone and sand,
     And we'll bid adieu to the Virgin Rocks
     And the banks of Newfoundland.

We had one Lynch from Ballynahinch, Spud Murphy and Mike Moore,
'Twas in the winter of seventy-three those sea-boys suffered sore.
They popped their clothes in Liverpool, sold them all out of hand,
Not thinkin' on the cold nor'winds on the banks of Newfoundland.

cho:
We had a lady fair aboard, Kate Connor was her name,
To her I promised marriage, and on me she had a claim;
She tore up her flannel petticoats to make mittens for my hands,
For she could not see her true love freeze
On the banks of Newfoundland.

cho:

I dreamed a dream the other night, and I thought I was at home,
Alongside of my own true love, and she in Marybone,
A jug of ale all on my knee, a glass of ale in hand,
But when I woke, my heart was broke
On the banks of Newfoundland.


@sailor
filename[ NWFNDLND
play.exe NWFNDLND
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF SICILY
(Hamish Henderson)

The pipie is dozie, the pipie is fey
He wullnae come round for his vino the day
The sky o'er Messina is unco an' grey
An' a' the bricht chaulmers are eerie

Fareweel ye banks o' Sicily
Fare ye weel ye valley an' shaw
There's nae Jock will mourn the kyles o' ye
Puir bliddy swaddies are weary

Then doon the stair and line the waterside
Wait your turn the ferry's awa'
The doon the stair and line the waterside
A' the bricht chaulmers are eerie

Fareweel ye banks o' Sicily
Fare ye weel ye valley an' shaw
There's nae name can smoor the wiles o' ye
Puir bliddy swaddies are weary

The drummie is polisht, the drummie is braw
He cannae be seen for his webbin' ava
He's beezed himsel' up for a photy an' a'
Tae leave with his Lola, his dearie

Then fare weel ye dives o' Sicily
Fare ye weel ye shielin' an' ha'
We'll a mind shebeens an' bothies
Whaur Jock made a date wi' his dearie

Then fare weel ye dives o' Sicily
Fare ye weel ye shielin' an' ha'
We'll a mind shebeens an' bothies
Whaur kind signorinas were cheerie

Then tune the pipes and drub the tenor drum
Leave your kit this side o' the wa'
Then tune the pipes and drub the tenor drum
A' the bricht chaulmers are eerie

Recorded (somewhat translated) by Kingston Trio; also MacColl, I
think
Copyright Hamish Henderson
tune, Fareweel Tae the Creeks, by Pipe Major James Robertson of Banff
@war @Scots
filename[ BKSICILY
play.exe BKSICILY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF SKENE

When I was a young girlie about the age o sixteen
I fell in love wi a heckler lad below the banks o Skene
  I fell in love wi a heckler lad below the banks o Skene

I dressed myself in men's clothing as a boy I had been
An I went unto the heckler lad below the banks of Skene...

O want ye any apprentices or want ye any men?
If ye want any apprentices I'll take ye for ane

O ye are a bonnie boy an o ye're neat and clean
As I want two apprentices I'll take ye for ane

Then I took up my heckling trade as a boy I had been      [flax dressing]
And the girlies fell in love wi me below the banks o Skene

There was a ball into the town o muckle mirth an fame
My master call-ed his men an called on me the same

All the night we sat and drank the red beer an the wine
An for ilka glass my master drank he would have gean me twain

But I took up a notion of what he meant to do
An' I scarcely ever tasted's drink or pat it to my moo'

As we wis coming hame again below the banks o Skene
My master he laid hands on me among the gowans green

I cried out for help for help but nean there could be gene
My master he laid hands on me among the gowans green

When twenty weeks were come an gone twenty weeks an three
I sent for my heckler to come an speak wi me

When forty weeks were come an gone forty weeks an one
I sent for my heckler to come and see his son

O he is a bonnie boy and o he's neat an clean
An noo I am the heckler's wife beloe the banks o Skene

printed in the Greig-Dincan Folk Song Collection, vol 1, p 412, vers A
@transvestite @work
filename[ BANKSKEN
play.exe BANKSKEN
play.exe BNKSKEN2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF SWEET DUNDEE

There was a fair young lady so lately I've been told
She lived with her uncle, the cause of all her woes;
Her uncle had a ploughboy, which Mollie liked quite well
And in her uncle's garden their tender love did tell.

So early one morning this old man he arose
And at Mollie's room door he hastened on his clothes,
Saying, " Arise you handsome female, and married you shall be
For the squire is a-waiting on the banks of sweet Dundee.

"A fig to all your squires, to lord and Jews likewise,
For William 'pears like diamonds a-glittering in my eyes."
"You never shall have Willie, nor happy shall you be
For I mean to banish Willie from the banks of sweet Dundee."

The first crowd came on Willie when he was all alone,
He fought full hard for his liberty, but there were eight to one;
"Pray kill me now," says Willie, "Pray kill me now," says he
"For I'd rather die for Mollie on the banks of sweet Dundee."

As Mollie was walking, lamenting for her love
She meets the wealthy squire, all in her uncle's grove.
"Stand off, stand off!" says Mollie, "Stand off, you man," says she,
"For I'd rather die for Willie on the banks of sweet Dundee."

He threw his arms around her and crushed her to the ground,
There she spied two pistols and a sword beneath his morning-gown;
The pistols she slipped slyly, and the sword she used free
She shot and killed the squire on the banks of sweet Dundee.

Her uncle overheard them, come hastening to the grove
Saying, "You've killed the wealthy squire, prepare for your death-blow,"
"Stand off, stand off!" says Mollie, "Stand off, you man, says she,"
So the trigger drew and her uncle slew on the banks of sweet Dundee.

The doctor being sent for, he knew that they were killed
Also there came a lawyer to write the old man's will.
He willed his gold to Mollie, because she fought so free
Then closed his eyes to write no more on the banks of sweet Dundee.

From English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians, Sharp
@love @recruiting @death
filename[ SWTDUNDE
play.exe SWTDUNDE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF SWEET DUNDEE

lt's of a wealthy farmer, lived on the banks of sweet Dundee,
He died and left his daughter ten thousand pounds in gold.
He died and left his daughter ten thousand pounds in gold,
He left it with her uncle, her uncle to control.

Her uncle had a plowboy that Mary loved quite well;
Into the garden all alone all tales of love they'd tell.

One morning very early, her uncle, he arose;
He tapped at her bed-window: "Arise, put on your clothes.
Arise, my lovelie Mary, a Lady you shall be,
For there's a Squire waiting for you on the banks of sweet Dundee

"I care not for your squires, your lords nor dukes likewise
For William's eyes like diamonds shine, and they sparkle to my eyes,
"Go 'way, you unruly female, happy you never shall be,
I will press young William from the banks of sweet Dundee."
The press gang, it was sent for, poor Bill was all alone;
He boldly fought for liberty, but there were ten to one
"Kill me now," says William, "Kill me now, " said he,
"For here I will die for Mary on the banks of sweet Dundee."

Mary went a-walking, lamenting for her love,
She met there with the Squire down in her uncle's grove.

He put his arms around her, he thought to set her down;
Two pistols and a sword rhe saw beneath his morning-gown.
She put her hand on one of them she could use quite free:
The trigger she drew and the Squire slew on the banks of sweet Dundee

Her uncle, hearing that report, down to the grove he ran,
Saying, "You have killed a squire, I'll give you a deadlie wownd
"Stand off, stand off," cried Mary, "daunted I never shall be!"
The trigger she drew and her uncle slew on the banks of sweet Dundee

A doctor, he was sent for, a man of noble skill;
Likewise a noble lawyer for to write down the Will.
They willed all the gold to Mary, who'd fought so valiantly,
Willed all of the gold to Mary on the banks of sweet Dundee.

From Folk Songs of the Catskills, Cazden Haufrecht and Studer
Collected from George Edwards
@love @recruiting @death
filename[ SWTDUND2
play.exe SWTDUND2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF SWEET LOCH RAY

I am as poor a distressed maid
As ever  yet was known.
By love I'm captivated
Wbich is proved my ovcrthrow.
When herding out my father's flocks
By accidence did stray
It was there I met my sailor bold
On the banks of sweet Loch Ray.

"Good morning to you, fair maid," he said,
With a heart so free
"And would you be contented
To go along with me?
I will dess you like queen Helen
All in your Grecian style
And when we'll go to the town of Boyle
I will there make you my bride."

With a modest blush this fair maid said,
"Your suit I must deny
For I am no way fitting
To be a sailor's bride.
Far from my native country
I am not inclined to stray
For my heart would break were I to leave
The banks of sweet Loch Ray."

"Fair maiden I will not ask you
To leave your native place.
We will here set down and court awhile
All in this silent place,
We will set down and court awhile
Among the flowers so gay
And herd your sheep as they do feed
On the banks of sweet Loch Ray."

Rolled up in the rapture of the night
The time stole slowly on.
My love has taken flight
And from me he has gone.
I'll never love a young man,
I never loved any young man half so well
And where to find my sailor bold
I'm sure I cannot tell.

My sailor bold he's gone from me
And he's crossed o'er the main.
I mean for to live single
Until he returns again.
A crown of gold I would bestow
And at his feet I'd lay.
I'd bid adieu forevermore
To the banks of sweet Loch Ray.
From The New Green Mountain Songster, Hrkness et al.
@love @courting @parting @sailor
filename[ LOCHRAY
play.exe LOCHRAY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE CONDAMINE

"Oh hark! The dogs are barking, I can no longer stay
The men have all gone mustering, I heard the publican say
And I must be off in the morning, love, before the sun does shine
To meet the contract shearers on the banks of the Condamine."

"Oh Willie, dearest Willie, don't leave me here to mourn
Don't make me curse and rue the day that ever I was born
For parting with you Willie is like parting with me life
So stay and be a selector, love, and I will be your wife."

"Oh Nancy, dearest Nancy, you know that I must go
Old Hallerand is expecting me, his shearing for to do
But while I'm on the bogs, me love, I'll think of you with pride
And our shears they will go freely when I'm on the whippin' side."

"Oh I'll cut off my yellow hair and go along with you
I'll dress myself in men's attire and be a shearer too
I'll cook and count your tally, love while, ringer, you will shine?
And I'll wash your greasy moleskins on the banks of the Condamine."

"Oh Nancy, dearest Nancy, you know that can't be so
The boss has given order, love, no woman shall do so
And your delicate constitution's not equal unto mine
To eat the ramstack mutton on the banks of the Condamine.

But when the shearing's over, love, I'll make you me wife
I'll take up a selection and I'll settle down for life
And when the day's work's over, love, and the evening's clear and fine
I'll tell of them sandy cobblers on the banks of the Condamine."


sung by Trevor Lucas on A.L.Lloyd's "The Great Australian Legend" (1971)
Note: This is a 19th century Australian parody of "The Banks Of The Nile",
   sung to the same tune."Ringer" in verse 4 refers to the fastest shearer
   on the shearing team. MJ, LN

@Australia @parody @work @farm @animal @transvestite @love
filename[ BANKCOND
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE DEE

Last Saturday night by the banks of the Dee,
I met an old man in distress I could see.
I sat down beside him and to me he did say,
"I can't get employment for my hair, it's turned grey."

"I am an old miner, aged fifty and six.
If I could get lots, why I'd raffle my picks;
I'd raffle them, I'd sell them, I'd hoy them away,
For I can't get employment, my hair it's turned grey.

When I was a young lad I was just like the rest
Each day in the pits I'd do my very best.
If I got a good cavil I'd be hewing all day,
Now at fifty and six my hair has turned grey.

Last Wednesday night to the reckoning I went,
To the colliery offices I went straight forenenst;
I'd got my pay packet, I was walking away
When they gave me my notice, 'cause my hair it's turned grey.

Now all you young fellows, It's you that's to blame
If you got good places you'd do just the same.
If you gota good price, man, you'd hew it away,
But you're bound to regret it when your hair it turns grey.

For I am an old miner, aged fifty and six.
If I could get lots, why, I'd raffle my picks;
I'd raffle them, I'd sell them, I'd hoy them away.
For I can't get employment 'cause my hair it's turned grey.


Recorded by Killen, Gallant Lads are We
This song reflects the agony of those who, in Joe Glazer's song,
are "too old to wo@k and too young to die". It describes the
dlstress of the "collier's second childhood" when the old miners
were put back on the heaps, picking slate with the young lads.
No relationship to 18'th Century Banks of the Dee.
  hoy - throw; lots - bids; cavil - place of work; fornenst -
right away
@work @age   @unemployment @miner
filename[ DEEBANKS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF THE DEE
(John Tait)

'Twas summer, and softly the breezes were blowing,
And sweetly the nightingale sang from the tree.
At the foot of a hill, where the river was flowing
I sat myself down on the banks of the Dee.
     Flow on, lovely Dee, flow on thou sweet river
     Thy banks, purest stream shall be dear to me ever;
     For there I first gained the affection and favor
     Of Jamie, the glory and pride of the Dee.

But now he has gone from me and left me thus mourning
To quell the proud rebels, for valiant is he;
But ah! There's no hope of his speedy returning
To wander again on the banks of the Dee.
     He's gone, hapless youth, o'er the rude roaring billows,
     The kindest, the sweetest, of all his brave fellows
     And left me to stray 'mongst these once loved willows
     The loneliest lass on the banks of the Dee.

But time and my prayers may perhaps yet restore him
Blest peace may restore my dear lover to me.
And when he returns, with such care I'll watch o'er him
He never shall leave the sweet banks of the Dee.
     The Dee will then flow, all its beauty displaying
     The lambs on its banks will again be seen playing
     Whilst I, with my Jamie, am carelessly straying
     And tasting again all the sweets of the Dee.

@Scots @soldier @parting @army @America @revolution
TUNE: Langolee
filename[ BNKSDEE
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF THE DEE (parody ca. 1776)
(Oliver Arnold)

'Twas winter and cold Tory noses were freezing
As they marched o'er the plains where they ought not to be.
The valiants complained at the fifers' curst wheezing
And wished they were back on the banks of the Dee.
     Lead on, thou paid captain! Tramp on, thou proud minions!
     Thy heads, haughty men shall be strung like ripe onions
     For here thou hast found heads with warlike opinions
     On shoulders of nobles who ne'er saw the Dee.

Prepare for war's conflict; or make preparation
For peace with the rebels, for they're brave and glee.
Keep mindful of dying, and leave the foul nation
That sends out its armies to brag and to flee.
     Make haste now, and leave us, thou miscreant Tories!
     To Scotland repair! there court the sad houris
     And listen once more to their plaints and their stories
     Concerning the "glory and pride of the Dee."

Be quiet and sober, secure and contented,
Upon your own land, be valiant and free;
Bless God that the war is so nicely prevented
And till the green fields on the banks of the Dee.
     The Dee then will flow, all its beauty displaying
     The lads on its banks will again be seen playing
     And England thus honestly taxes defraying
     With natural drafts from the banks of the Dee.


@war @soldier @America @parody
filename[ BNKSDEE2
play.exe BNKSDEE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BANKS OF THE DON

On the banks of the Don there's a dear little spot,
A boarding house proper where you get your meals hot.
You get fine bread and water and you won't pay a cent:
Your taxes are paid for, your board  and  your  rent.

cho: So turn out ev'ry man of you, all in a line,
     From the cell to the stoneyard you all must keep time,
     You work like a  Turk till the bell it strikes one
     ln that grand institution just over the Don.

If you want to get into that palace so neat,
Take tanglefoot whiskey and get drunk in the street.
You'll have a fine carriage to drive you from town
To that grand institution just over the Don.

Our boarders are honest, not one of them steal,
For they count all the knives and forks after each meal
Our windows are airy and barred up beside
To keep our good  boarders from  falling  outside.

From Folksongs of Canada, Fowke & Johnson
Collected from O.J. Abbot who learned it around 1890 in Ottawa
     Valley
@jail   @Canada
filename[ BANKSDON
play.exe BANKSDON
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE NILE

Farewell, my dearest Nancy, farewell I must away.
I hear the drums a-beating and no longer I can stay.
For we're orders out of Portsmouth Town and for many a long mile
For to fight the blacks and heathens on the banks of the Nile.

Oh, I'll cut off my curly locks and along with you I'll go
I'll dress meself in velveteen and go and see Egypt, too.
I'll fight and bear thy banners well, kind fortune upon thee smile.
And we'll comfort one another on the banks of the Nile.

Oh, your waist it is too slender, love, and your waist it is too small.
I'm afraid that you won't answer me, if l should on you call
Your delicate constitution will not stand the unwholesome soil.
Nor the dark, nor the sandy climate on the banks of the Nile.

O Willie, dearest William. don't leave me here to mourn,
You'll make me curse and rue the day for whenever I'd been born.
For the parting of my own true love and the parting of me life-
Now stay at home, dear William, and I will be thee wife.

O now the war is over and back I'll then return
Until my wife and family I've leave behind to mourn.
We'll call them in around, me boys, and there's no end of toil.
And no more we'll go a'roving on the banks of the Nile.

Other verses:
My curse upon the war and the hour that it began
For it has robbed our counterie of many a gallant man
It took from us our old sweethearts, protectors of our soil
And their blood does steep the grass that's deep on the banks of the
   Nile

Let a hundred days be darkened and let maidens give a sigh
It would melt the very elements to hear the wounded cry
Let a hundred days be brightened and let the maidens give a smile
But remember Abercrombie on the banks of the Nile

Recorded by Sidney Richards on A Soldier's Life For Me
  (Folksongs of Britain, Vol 8)
Also recorded by Ewan MacColl
filename[ BANKNILE
play.exe BANKNILE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE OHIO

Come all you young men, who have a mind for to range
Into the western country your station for to change,
For seeking some new pleasure we'll altogether go,
And we'll settle on the banks of the pleasant Ohio.

The land it is good boys, you need not fear,
'Tis a garden of Eden, in North America.
Come along my lively lads, and we'll altogether go
And we'll settle on the banks of the pleasant Ohio.

There's all kinds of fish, in that River for our use,
Besides the lofty sugar tree, which yields us it's juice.
There's all kinds of game there, besides the buck and doe,
And we'll range thro' the wild woods and hunt the buffalo.

The river as it murmurs, it runs for the main,
It brings us good tidings quite down from New Spain:
There's all kinds of grain there, and plenty it doth
And we'll draw the Spanish gold right from Mexico!

Those blood-thirsty Indians you need not fear,
We will all united be, and we will all be free from care,
We'll march into their towns and give them their deadly blow,
And we'll fold you in our arms in the pleasant Ohio.

Come all you fair maidens wherever you may be,
Come join in with us and rewarded you shall be:
Girls, if you'll card, knit, and spin, we'll plough, reap & sow,
And we'll fold you in our arms in the pleasant Ohio.

From Contentment, Douglas
@emigrate   @America
filename[ OHIOBNKS
play.exe OHIOBNKS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE OHIO

I asked my love to go with me,
Just to walk a little way.
And as we walked, 'twas then we talked
Of our approaching wedding day.

cho: Then only say that you'll be mine
     And in no other arms entwine.
     Down beside, where the waters flow
     Down by the banks of the Ohio.

I held a knife against her breast
As gently in my arms she pressed,
Crying "Willie, Oh Willie! Don't murder me
For I'm unprepared for eternity!"

cho:

I took her by her lily white hand
And led her down where the waters stand;
I picked her up and pitched her in
And watched her as she floated down.

cho:

I started home 'twixt twelve and one
Cryin' "Oh my God! What have I done?
I've murdered the only woman I love
Because she would not be my bride.

cho:

@murder @love
filename[ BNKSOHIO
play.exe BNKSOHIO
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE ROSES

When I was a wee thing, I heard my mother say
That I was meant for rambling and would easy go astray
And before that I would work, I would rather sport and play
With my Johnny on the banks of red roses

On the banks of red roses, my love and I sat doon
He took out his tuning box to play his love a tune
In the middle of the tune, his love got up and cried
Oh Johnny, lovely Johnny, would you leave me?

So they walked and they talked until they came upon a cave
Where the night before her darling had spent digging on her grave
Aye, the night before her darling had spent digging on her grave
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of red roses

Oh no, oh no, cried she, that grave's not meant for me
Yes, oh yes, my darling, that your bridal bed shall be
Yes, oh yes, my darling, that your bridal bed shall be
And he's made her to lie down on red roses

And all on his way homeward, his heart was filled with fear
Every maid he came upon, he thought it was his dear
Yes, every maid he came upon, he thought it was his dear
Who he made to lie down on red roses

Recorded by Jean Redpath. Probable source : Hamish Henderson.
  also by Buffy Ste Marie on Many a Mile
@murder @love
filename[ BANKROS2
play.exe BANKROS2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE ROSES

On the banks of the roses, my love and I sat down
And I took out my violin to play my love a tune
In the middle of the tune, O she sighed and she said
O Johnny, lovely Johnny, Would you leave me

O when I was a young man, I heard my father say
That he'd rather see me dead and buried in the clay
Sooner than be married to any runaway
By the lovely sweet banks of the roses

O then I am no runaway and soon I'll let them know
I can take a good glass or leave it alone
And the man that doesn't like me, he can keep
     his daughter home
And young Johnny will go roving with another

And if ever I get married, twill be in the month of May
When the leaves they are green and the meadows
     they are gay
And I and my true love can sit and sport and play
On the lovely sweet banks of the roses


Note: in other versions he kills her
versions recorded by Redpath, Buffy Ste Marie, and Clancy Bros.
@Irish @flower
filename[ BANKROSE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE ROSES

When I was a wee thing and easy led astray
It's before I would work, I would rather sport and play
It's before I would work, I would rather sport and play
With my Johnny on the banks of red roses

On the banks of red roses my love and I sat down
He took out his fiddle and began to play a tune
And when the tune was ended his love broke down and cried
"Oh Johnny, darling Johnny, never leave me"

He took out his pocket knife and it was long and sharp
And he plunged it through and through the bonnie lassie's heart
He plunged it through and through the bonnie lassie's heart
And he let her lying low on the roses

(repeat first verse)

----------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by June Tabor on "Aqaba" (1989?)

@love @murder
filename[ BANKROS3
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO

As I was rollin' down the strand
     Hoo-dah, hoo-dah,
I met two fairies* hand in hand
     Hoo-dah, hoo-dah, day!

cho: Blow, boys blow!
     To Californ-i-o
     There's plenty of gold**, so I've been told
     On the banks of the Sacramento.

I chose the one with the curly locks,
She let me chase her o'er the rocks***

I chased her high, I chased her low
I fell down and broke me toe.

Off to the doctor I did go
And I showed him my big toe.

In came the doctor with a bloomin' big lance
"Now, young sailor, I'll make you dance!"

In came the nurse with a mustard poultice
Banged it on, but I took no notice.

Now I'm well and free from pain
I'll never court flash gals again.

*(sic) Probably affectionate form of fair ones
**or There's plenty of grass to wipe your ass
***Bowdlerization by Mr. Hugill. Adjust as required.

From Shanties from the Seven Seas, Hugill
@sailor @sex @doctor @illness
filename[ SACRMNTO
play.exe CAMPTWN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO (2)

O, around Cape Horn we are bound to go
     To me Hoo-dah, to me hoo-dah
Around Cape Horn through the sleet and snow
     To me hoo-dah, hoo-dah, day

cho: Blow boys blow,
     For Califor-I-O
     There's planty of gold so I've been told
     On the banks of the Sacramento.

Oh around the Horn with a mainskys'l set,
Around Cape Horn an' we're all wringin' wet.

Oh, around Cape Horn in the month o' May,
Oh, around Cape Horn is a very long way.

Them Dago gals we do adore,
They all drink vino an' ask for more.

Them Spanish gals ain't got no combs,
They comb their locks with tunny-fish bones.

To the Sacramento we're bound away,
To the Sacramento's a hell o' a way.

We're the buckos for to make 'er go,
All the way to the Sacramento.

We're the bullies for to kick her through,
Roll down the hill with a hullabaloo.

Starvation an' ease in a Yankee ship,
We're the bullies for to make 'er rip.

Santander Jim is a mate from hell,
With fists o' iron an' feet as well.

Breast yer bars an' bend yer backs,
Heave an' make yer spare ribs crack.

Round the Horn an' up to the Line,
We're the bullies for to make 'er shine

We'll crack it on, on a big skiyoot,
Ol' Bully Jim is a bloody big brute.

Oh, a bully ship wid a bully crew,
But the mate is a bastard through an' through.

Ninety days to 'Frisco Bay,
Ninety days is damn good pay.

Oh, them wuz the days of the good ol' times,
Back in the days of the Forty-nine.

Sing an' heave an' heave an' sing,
Heave an' make them handspikes spring.
An' I wish to God I'd niver bin born,
To go a-ramblin' round Cape Horn.

From Shanties from the Seven Seas, Hugill
@sailor
filename[ SACRMNT2
play.exe CAMPTWN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF THE SWEET PRIMROSES

As I walked out on a midsummer's morning
For to view the fields and to take the air
Down by the banks of the sweet primroses
There I beheld a most *love lie fair*

Three short steps, I stepped up to her
Not knowing her as she passed me by
I stepped up to her, thinking for to view her
She appeared to be like some virtuous bride

I says "Fair maid, where are you going?
And what's the occasion of all your brief?
I will make you as happy as any lady
If you will grant to me one small relief"

"Stand off, stand off, you're a false deceiver
You are a false deceitful man, I know
'Tis you that has caused my poor heart to wander
And in your comfort lies no refrain"

So I'll go down to some lonesome valley
Where no man on earth shall there me find
Where the pretty little small birds do change their voices
And every moment blows blusterous wind

So come all young men who go a-sailing
Pray pay attention to what I say
For there's many a dark and a cloudy morning
Turns out to be a sunshiny day

Recorded by Fairport Convention on House Full and Angel Delight
@courting  @rejection
filename[ SWTPRIM
play.exe SWTPRIM
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BANKS OF YARROW

My Willie's fair, my Willie's rare
My Willie's wondrous bonnie
He promised he would marry me
If ever he married any
  any, any, if ever he married any
  He promised he would marry me
  If ever he married any

My Willie's to the hunting gone
Afraid that he might tarry
He sent a letter back to me
That he was too young to marry
  marry, marry ...

Last night I had a dreadful dream
Twas full of pain and sorrow
I dreamt I was pulling the heather so green
High upon the banks of Yarrow...

Oh came you by yon waterside
Pulled you the rose or lily
Or came you by yon meadow green
Or saw you my sweet Willy?

She wondered high, she wandered low
High on the braes of Yarrow
'Til right beneath a rock she found
Her true love drowned in the Yarrow

Her hair it was three quarters long
The color of it was yellow
She's turned it round her Willie's waist
And she's pulled him out of the Yarrow

Yestereen I made my bed full broad
Tonight I'll make it narrow
For all the livelong winter's night
I lie twined of my marrow

My Willie's fair, my Willie's rare
My Willie's wondrous bonnie
He promised he would marry me
If ever he married any


alternate verse 4:
  She sought him east she sought him west
  She sought him broad and narrow
  Till in the clifting of a craig
  She found him drownd in Yarrow

Child #215
@love @death
sung by Helen Schneyer, Ed Trickett
tunes from Sedley, Seeds of Love
  tune B collected from Lucy Broadwood of Peebleshire
filename[ YARROW2
play.exe YARROW2A
play.exe YARROW2B
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARBARA ALLEN

In Scarlet Town where I was born
There was a fair maid dwellin'
Made every youth cry well-a-day
Her name was Barbara Allen.

'Twas in the merry month of May
When green buds they were swellin'
Sweet William on his death-bed lay
For the love of Barbara Allen.

He sent his servant to the town,
To the place where she was a-dwellin',
Cried, "Master bids you come to him,
If your name be Barb'ry Allen."

Then slowly, slowly she got up,
And slowly went she nigh him,
And when she pulled the curtains back
Said, "Young man, I think you're dyin'.

"Oh, yes, I'm sick, I'm very very sick,
I never will be better,
Until I have the love of one
The love of Barb'ry Allen."

"Oh, ken ye not in yonder town
In the place where you were a-dwellin',
You gave a toast to the ladies all
But you slighted Barb'ry Allen."

"Oh yes, I ken, I ken it well,
In the place where I was a-dwellin';
I give a toast to the ladies all,
But my love to Barb'ry Allen."

Then lightly tripped she down the stairs,
He trembled like an aspen.
'Tis vain, 'tis vain, my dear young man,
To hone for Barb'ry Allen.

She walked out in the green, green fields.
She heard his death bells knellin'.
And every stroke they seemed to say,
"Hard-hearted Barb'ry Allen."

Her eyes looked east, her eyes looked west,
She saw his pale corpse comin';
She cried, "Bearers, bearers, put him down
That I may look upon him."

The more she looked, the more she grieved,
Until she burst out cryin';
She cried, "Bearers, bearers, take him off,
For I am now a-dyin'!"

"Oh, father, oh, father, go dig my grave,
Go dig it deep and narrow.
Sweet William died for me today;
I'll die for him tomorrow."

They buried her in the old churchyard,
Sweet William's grave was nigh her,
And from his heart grew a red, red rose,
And from her heart a brier.

They grew and they grew o'er the old church wall,
Till they couldn't grow no higher,
Until they tied a true lover's knot,
The red rose and the brier.

Child #84
From The Burl Ives Song Book
@love @death
filename[ BARBALN2
play.exe BARBALN2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARBARA ALLEN

(CEFG)

In Scarlet town where I was born,
There was a fair maid dwellin'
Made every youth cry Well-a-day,
Her name was Barb'ra Allen.

All in the merry month of May,
When green buds they were swellin'
Young Willie Grove on his death-bed lay,
For love of Barb'ra Allen.

He sent his man unto her then
To the town where he was dwellin'
You must come to my master, dear,
If your name be be Barb'ra Allen.

So slowly, slowly she came up,
And slowly she came nigh him,
And all she said when there she came:
"Young man, I think you're dying!"

He turned his face unto the wall
And death was drawing nigh him.
Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,
And be kind to Bar'bra Allen

As she was walking o'er the fields,
She heard the death bell knellin',
And ev'ry stroke did seem to say,
Unworthy Barb'ra Allen.

When he was dead and laid in grave,
Her heart was struck with sorrow.
"Oh mother, mother, make my bed
For I shall die tomorrow."

And on her deathbed she lay,
She begged to be buried by him,
And sore repented of the day
That she did e'er deny him.

"Farewell," she said, "ye virgins all,
And shun the fault I fell in,
Henceforth take warning by the fall
Of cruel Barb'ra Allen."
-----------------------------------------------------------------

Samuel Pepys in his "Diary" under the date of January 2nd 1665,
speaks of the singing of "Barbara Allen."  The English and
Scottish both claim the original ballad in different versions, and
both versions were brought over to the US by the earliest
settlers.  Since then there have been countless variations (some
98 are found in Virginia alone).  The version used here is the
English one.  The tune is traditional.
Child #84
recorded on Joan Baez/2 and Golden Ring, among many others
@ballad @love @death

filename[ BARBALEN
play.exe BARBALEN
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARBARA ELLEN

In Scotland I was born and bred
In Scotland I was dwelling;
When a young man on his deathbed lay
For the sake of Barb'ra Ellen.

He sent his servant to her house
To the place where she was dewlling,
Saying, "You must come to my master's house
If your name is Barb'ra Ellen."

So slowly she put on her clothes
So slowly she came to him,
And when she came to his bedside
She said, "Young man, you're dying."

"A dying man! O don't say so.
For one kiss from you will cure me."
"One kiss from me you never shall have
While your poor heart is breaking."

"If you'll look up at my bed-head
You will see my watch a-hanging;
Here's my gold ring and my gold chain
I give to Barb'ra Ellen."

"If you look down at my bed's-foot
You will see a bowl a-standing
In it is the blood I've shed
For the sake of Barb'ra Ellen."

As she was walking down the lane
She heard some birds a-singing,
And as they sang, they seemed to say:
"Hard-hearted Barb'ra Ellen."

As she was walking down the lane
She heard some bells a-tolling,
And as they tolled they seemed to say:
"Hard-hearted Barb'ra Ellen."

As she was walking up the groves
And met his corpse a-coming,
"Stay, stay," said she,"and stop awhile
That I may gaze all on you."

The more she gazed, the more she smiled
Till she burst out a-laughing;
And her parents cried out:"Fie, for shame,
Hard-hearted Barb'ra Ellen."

"Come mother, come make up my bed
Make it both long and narrow;
My true love died for me yesterday
I'll die for him tomorrow."

And he was buried in Edmondstone
And she was buried in Cold Harbour;
And out of him sprang roses red
And out of her sweet-brier.

It grew and grew so very high
Till it could grow no higher;
And around the top growed a true lover's knot
And around it twined sweet-brier.

From English Folk Songs, Sharp
Child #84
@ballad @love @death
filename[ BARBALN3
play.exe BARBALN3
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARBAREE

There were two ships from old England came
     Blow high, blow low and so sail we,
One she was the Queen of Russia and the other Prince of Wales
     Cruisin' down on the coast of Barbaree.

"Step aloft, step aloft," our jolly bos'n cried,
     Blow high, blow low, and so sail we.
"Look ahead, look astern, look aweather'd , and alee,
     Then look down on the coast of Barbaree."

"There is no ship ahead, there is no ship astern,"
     Blow high, blow low, and so sail we.
"But there's a lofty ship awind'ard and a lofty ship is she,"
     Cruisin' down on the coast of Barbaree."

"Hail, hail, that lofty tall ship,"
     Blow high, blow low, and so sail we.
"Are you a man-o-war's-man or a privateer?" said he,
     Cruisin' down on the coast of Barbaree."

"l'm no man-o-war's-man or privateer," said he,
     Blow high, blow low, and so sail we.
"But I'm a jolly pirate a-seekin' for my fee,
     Cruisin' down on the coast of Barbaree."

Broadside, broadside along them we did lay,
     Blow high, blow low, and so sail we.
Till at length the Queen of Russia shot the pirate's mast away,
     Cruisin' down on the coast of Barbaree.

"Oh, quarters, quarters," this jolly pirate cried,
     Blow high, blow low, and so sail we.
"The quarters I will give you I will sink you in the tide!
     Cruisin' down on the coast of Barbaree."

So we tied them one by one, and we tied them two by two,
     Blow high , blow low, and so sail we.
We tied them three by three, and we chucked 'em in the sea!
     Cruisin' down on the coast of Barbaree.

From Traditional American Folk Songs, Warner & Warner. Collected from
     C.K. "Tink" Tillett, 1940
Recorded by Jeff Warner and Jeff Davis
@sailor @pirate @battle
filename[ HIGHBRB3
play.exe HIGHBRB3
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BARD
(Robert Burns)

          CHORUS
cho: For a' that, an a' that,
     An twice as muckle's a' that,
     I've lost but ane, I've twa behin',
     I've wife eneugh for a' that

I am a Bard of no regard,
    Wi'gentle folks an a' that,
But Homer-like the glowrin byke,
    Frae town to town I draw that.

I never drank the Muses stank,
    Castalia's burn, an a' that;
But there it streams, an richly reams-
   My Helicon I ca' that.

Great love I bear to a' the fair,
   Their humble slave an a' that;
But lordly will, I hold it still
    A mortal sin to thraw that.

In raptures sweet this hour we meet,
     Wi' mutual love an a' that;
But for how lang the flie may stang,
      Let inclination law that!

Their tricks an craft hae put me daft,
      They've taen me in, an a'that;
But clear your decks, an here's the Sex!
        I like the jads for a'that.

For a' that an a' that,
     An twice as muckle's a' that,
My dearest bluid, to do them guid,
     They're welcome till't for a' that!

Note: Part of Love and Liberty - A Cantata
    TUNE: For a' that, an a' that (84)
          (same as: I am a bard of no regard)
@Scots
filename[ THEBARD
play.exe MANSAMAN
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARD OF ARMAGH

Oh, list to the tale of a poor Irish harper
And scorn not the strings in his old withered hand
But remember these fingers could once move more sharper
To waken the echoes of his dear native land

How I long for to muse on the days of my boyhood
Though four score and three years have fled by since then
Still it gives sweet reflections, as every young joy should
That merry-hearted boys make the best of old men

At wake or at fair I would twirl my shillelagh
And trip through the jigs with my brogues bound with straw
And all the pretty maidens from the village, the valley
Loved the bold Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh

And when sergeant Death's cold arms shall embrace me
Oh lull me to sleep with sweet Erin Go Bragh
By the side of my Kathleen, my own love, then place me
And forget Phelim Brady, the bard of Armagh

sung by Tommy Makem and by Clancy Bros on Home Boys Home
@harp @age   @Irish @music
filename[ BARDARMA
play.exe LAREDST
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARE LEGGED JOE
  Irish Rovers

Bare legged Joe knows the curlew's cry
He runs with the hare when the summer's nigh
A tinker boy is fancy free
In the quiet green hills of Sligo

Don't wish someday that you could go
With a bag on your back and a pace that's slow
Leave your home in the city smoke
With the tinkers to go roving

That tinker boy never went to school
But you can tell he's no one's fool
He knows how to fish and to lay a snare
He can sing like a lark in the morning

Think I'll leave and go with him
Now that the summer is coming in
Travel the road with the tinker band
And a bare legged boy to lead me

recorded by the Irish Rovers
@gypsy @Irish
filename[ BARLEGJO
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAREFOOT NELLIE

Well a big old crow setting out on a limb
Mom said chicken, but Nellie's bought a ham:
Wrung it's neck, picked it clean
That's the funniest chicken I've ever seen.

Chorus: Oh barefoot Nellie, (3x)
        You're the one for me.

Oh Nellie rode into town one day
Arriving on a load of hay
Sold a man a trip to Mars
Now she's sitting behind the bars.

Nellie put on her Sunday dress
Thought that it would look the best
Made out of an old feed sack
Lookit them cords hanging down her back.

Well Nellie's got a pair of shoes
She can wear them when she choose
Why the hell she's got the blues
Who wants to wear size 22.

@banjo @bluegrass @country
filename[ BARENELL
DG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARGES

(     ) C G7 / C G7 C / C G7 / C G7 C

Out of my window, looking in the night
I can see the barges' flickering light
Silently flows the river to the sea
And the barges too go silently

     C F G7 / C G7 C / C F G7 / C G7 C

     Barges, I would like to go with you
     I would like to sail the ocean blue
     Barges, have you treasures in your hold
     Do you fight with pirates, brave and bold.

Out of my window, looking in the night
I can see the barges' flickering light
Starboard shine green and port is glowing red
In the night the signal far ahead

     Barges, I would like to go with you
     I would like to sail the ocean blue
     Barges, on the river you may roam
     On the river, always, you're at home

-----------------------------------------------------------------
@water @boat
filename[ BRGES
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BARK GAY HEAD

Come all you young Americans
And listen to my ditty
It's all ahout a whaling bark
That left New Bedford City
The bark Gay Head it is her name
She's known hoth far and near
Her rules and regulations
They are most awful queer

cho:
Cheer boys cheer for the Gay Head and crew
For growling and soldiering when there are things to do;
We never will, we never will, we never can he high
We want three thousand barrels of oil, root hog or die.

The place this noble bark was huilt
Was Mattapoisett town
The workrmen worked for a dollar a day
The boss was Jonathan Brown
She was launched upon July the tenth
At eight o'clock P.M.
And numerous crowds assembled round
To see them dump her down.

The Captain's name was Jenny
From Mattapoisett town
He walks upon the quarter-deck
And there you'll see him frown
He is the meanest captain
That ever you did see
He's crossed the Atlantic several times
From New Bedford to Africee

We'll cheer my nohle hearties
For the larboard boat and crew
Mr. Hazzard's their boat leader
He's a gentleman good and true
There's Hussy John and Taylor Dick
And a hoatsteerer named Couch
And when they lower in their boat
They know what they're about

And we will cheer my hearties
For the starboard boat and crew
For the blowing of their pulling
Which is something they can do
When they lower in their boat
They do the hest they can
Ryder he's the biggest blower
And he's the smallest man.

We have the noble waist boat
Whose crew are very good
Their boatheader is a Dartmouth man
His name is Mr. Wood.
And when they lower in their boat
They don't make any noise
But when you talk of pulling
They are the very boys.

We have another boat now
It's called the bow boat.
She's one of the jolliest crafts
That ever yet did float
Hiller pulls the bow oar
And Blankenship the stroke
Dexter pulls harpooner
And Jenny heads the boat.

From Songs the Whalemen Sang, Huntington
Collected from the journal of Stella, 1860
@whale @sailor
tune is Root Hog or Die
filename[ BRKGAYHD
play.exe BRKGAYHD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BARLEY AND THE RYE

It's of an old country farmer who lived in the West country,
And he had the prettiest little wife that ever I did see,
And a young man came a-courting her when the old man he wasn't nigh,
And ofttimes they'd take a tumble amongst the barley and the rye.

Now when the old man woke in the morning, and he found himself all alone
Well he looked out of his window, and he spied his wife in the corn,
And the young man lay beside her, and it caused the old man for to cry
He cried, "Wife, wife, I wonder at you, for spoiling of our rye!"

"Oh husband," she cries, "Oh husband, it's the like I've ne'er done before
But if you have got one friend, I have another one in store
He's a friend that will not decieve you, if you will but him employ,
He's got money enough for to pay you for our barley and our rye."

From Harmonious Companions, Myers
Transcribed from singing of Peter Bellamy
@farmer @infidelity
filename[ BARLRYE
play.exe BARLRYE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARNACLE BILL THE SAILOR

Who's that knocking at my door?
Who's that knocking at my door?
Who's that knocking at my door? said the fair young maiden.

I just got paid and I wanta get laid,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.
I just got paid and I wanta get laid,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.

What if Ma and Pa find out?
What if Ma and Pa find out?
What if Ma and Pa find out?  said the fair young maiden.

I'll kill your Pa and ------ your Ma,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.
I'll kill your Pa and ------ your Ma,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.
What if we should go to jail?
What if we should go to jail?
What if we should go to jail?  said the fair young maiden.

I'll pick the lock with the tip of me ------,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.
I'll pick the lock with the tip of me ------,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.

What if we go back into jail?
What if we go back into jail?
What if we go back into jail? said the fair young maiden.

I'll knock down the walls with me swinging balls,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.
I'll knock down the walls with my swinging balls,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.

What if we should get the chair?
What if we should get the chair?
What if we should get the chair? said the fair young maiden.

I'll lay a fart and blow it apart,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.
I'll lay a fart and blow it apart,
Said Barnacle Bill the Sailor.

@sailor @bawdy
filename[ BARNBILL
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARNYARDS OF DELGATY

As I cam' in by Turra Market,
Turra Market for to fee
I fell in wi' a farmer chiel,
The Barnyards of Delgaty

  Lintin addie toorin addie, Lintin addie toorin ee
  Lintin lowrin, lowrin, lowrin, The barnyards of Delgaty

He promised me the ae best pair
That ever I set my e'en upon
When I gaed to the Barnyards,
There was naething there but skin and bone

The auld black horse sat on its rump,
The auld white mare lay on her wime
And for all that I could "Hup" and crack
They wouldna rise at yokin' time
When I gae to the kirk on Sunday
Mony's the bonnie lass I see
Sitting by her faither's side
And winkin o'er the pews at me

I can drink and no be drunk
I can fecht and no be slain
I can lie wi another man's lass
And aye be welcome to my ain

Noo my candle is brunt oot
My snotter's fairly on the wane
Sae fare ye weel ye Barnyards
Ye'll never catch me here again

_________
refers to a hiring fair where workers contract for a year's labor
sung by MacColl (Bothy Ballads and Scottish Popular Song) and
Bikel (Bravo Bikel)
filename[ BARNDELG
play.exe BARNDELG
D
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BARON O' BRACKLEY

Down Deeside cam' lnverey, whistlin'and playin',
He's lichted at Brackley yetts at the day dawin';
Says: "Baron o'Brackley, it's are ye within,
There's sharp swords at your yetts'll gar your bluid spin."

Oot spak the brave baron ower the castle wa',
"Are ye come to spulyie and plunder my ha'?
But gin ye be a gentleman, licht and come in;
Gin ye drink o'my wine ye'll no'gar my bluid spin."

His lady rose up, to the window she went,
She heard her kye lowin' o'er hill and o'er bent;
"O, rise up, bold Brackley and turn back your kye,
For the lads o'Drumwharren are drivin'them by."

"How can I rise, lady, or turn them again?
For where I hae ae man I wat they hae ten."
She's ca'd on her Maries to come ta her hand,
Says: "Bring your rocks, lasses, we will them command.

Gin I had a husband as I wat I hae nane,
He'd no' lie in his bed and see his kye ta'en".
"Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me my gun,
Ye'll see me gang oot but I'll never come in.

Arise, Peggy Gordon and gie me my gun,
I will gang oot though I never come in.
Then kiss me, my Peggy, I'll nae langer stay,
For I will gang oot and meet Inverey."

When Brackley was ready and stood in the close,
A bonnier gallant ne'er mounted a horse.
"What'll come o'your lady and bonny young son?
O, what'll come o' them when Brackley is gone"

"Strike, dogs!" cries Inverey, "fecht till you're slain,
For we are four hunder and ye are four men.
Strike, you proud boaster, your honour is gone
Your lands we will plunder, your castel we'll burn."

At the head o' the Etnach the battle began,
At little Aucholzie they killed the first man.
At first they killed ae man and syne they killed twa,
Then the Baron o'Brackley, the flooer o' them a'.

They killed William Gordon and James o' the Knock,
And brave Alexander, the flooer o' Glenmuick.
Whit sighin' and moanin' was heard in the glen,
For the Baron o' Brackley wha basely was slaln.

Cam' ye by Brackley yetts, cam' ye by there?
And saw ye his Peggy, a-tearin' her hair?
O, I was by Brackley yetts, I cam' by there
And I saw Peggy Gordon a-braidin' her hair.

She was rantin' and dancing and singin' for joy,
She swore that ere nicht she would feast Inverney;
She ate wi' him, drank wi' him, welcomed him in
Was kin to the man wha had slain her baron.

O, fye on ye lady, how could ye dae sae?
Ye opened the yetts tae the fause Inverney.
There's dule in the kitchen and mirth in the ha'
That the Baron o' Brackley is deid and awa'.

from Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland, MacColl
Child #203
@war @Scots
filename[ BRNBRKLY
play.exe BRNBRKLY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BARON O' BRACKLEY

1.  Doon Dee-side came Inveray, a-whistlin' and playin'
    And he drew rein at Brackley ere the day was dawnin',
    "Oh, are ye there, Brackley?  Proud Gordon, come doon:
    There's a sword at your threshold mair sharp than ye ain!"

2.  "Now rise up, John Gordon!" his lady did cry,
    "For here is bold Inveray stealin' your kye!"
    "How can I go, lady, and win them again,
    When I have but one sword to Inveray's ten?"

3.  "Now rise up, my maidens, take rock and take fan:
    How blest had I been had I married a man!
    Oh, rise up, my maidens, take spear and take sword -
    Go milk the cows, Brackley, and I will be lord!"

4.  So Brackley arose, put his helm on his head,
    Put his hand on his sword, on his thigh, on his steed:
    And he said as he bent for to kiss his proud dame,
    "There's a Gordon rides out here will never ride hame!"

5.  Now there rode with bold Inveray thirty and three
    But wi' Gordon was none but his brother and he:
    Oh, twa gallant Gordons did never sword draw,
    But against three and thirty, wae's me, what are twa?

6.  With sword and wi' dagger they fell on them rude,
    Till the twa gallant Gordons lay bathed in their blude:
    Fae the banks o' the Dee to the mouth o' the Tay
    The Gordons mourn for them and curse Inveray.

7.  "Oh, come ye by Brackley, and come ye by there,
    Was the young widow weepin' and tearin' her hair?"
    "Oh, I come by Brackley, and looked in and oh,
    There was mirth, there was laughter but nothin' awa'.

8.  Oh, there sat the lady, as blithe as a bride,
    Like a bridegroom bold Inveray sat by her side,
    And she feasted him there as she ne'er feasted Lord,
    Wi' the blood o' her husband still wet on his sword.

9.  In her bedroom she kept him till morning grew grey,
    Then through the woods o' Brackley she showed him the way.
    "Well you see yon green hill that the sun's shining on?
    That's the hill of Glentanner:  one kiss and be gone."

10. There's grief in the cottage, there's grief in the ha'
    For the twa gallant Gordons who're dead and awa'
    Tae the bush comes the spring, and the floo'er tae the plain,
    But the good and the brave, they'll come never again.

- learnt from the singing of Jack Whyte, resident at the Springfield
     Folk Club, Brighton, 1966.  This incident supposedly occurred
     7 September 1666, though Child thinks it is likely conflated
     with an incident of 1592. JB
Child #203
@war @Scots
filename[ BRNBRKL2
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARRETTS PRIVATEERS
(Stan Rogers)

Oh the year was seventeen seventy eight
     I wish I were in Sherbrooke now!
A letter of marque came from the King
To the scummiest vessel I've ever seen
     God Damn them all! I was told
     We'd cruise the seas for American gold
     We'd fire no guns, shed no tears
     Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier
     The last of Barrett's privateers.

Oh Elcid Barrett cried the town,
For twenty brave men, all fishermen, who
Would make for him the Antelope's crew,

The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight.
She'd a list to port and her sails in rags,
And a cook in the scuppers with staggers and jags.

On the King's birthday we put to sea.
We were ninety-one days to Montego bay,
Pumping like madmen all the way.

On the ninety-sixth day we sailed again.
When a bloody great Yankee hove in sight
With our cracked four-pounders we made to fight

The Yankee lay low down with gold.
She was broad and fat and loose in stays,
But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days

Then at length we stood two cables away.
Our cracked four-pounders made an awful din,
But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in.

The Antelope shook and pitched on her side.
Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs,
And the maintruck carried off both me legs.

So here I lay in my twenty-third year.
It's been six years since we sailed away,
And I just made Halifax yesterday.

Copyright Fogarty's Cove Music, Inc.
@war @sailor @water
filename[ BARTPRIV
play.exe BARTPRIV
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BARRING OF THE DOOR

It fell upon the Martinmas time
And a gay time it was then, oh
When our goodwife got puddings to make
And she's boiled them in the pan, oh.

The wind so cold blew south and north
And blew into the floor, oh
Quoth our goodman to our goodwife
Get up and bar the door, oh

My hand is in my hussyfskap
Goodman, as you may see, oh
If it shall never be barred this hundred year
It will ne'er be barred by me, oh

They made the pact betwixt them twa
They made it firm and sure, oh
That the first that ever a word should speak
Should rise and bar the door, oh

Then by there came two gentlemen
At twelve o'clock at night, oh
And they could neither see house nor hall
Nor coal nor candle light, oh

Now whether is this a rich man's house
Or whether it is a poor, oh
But never a word has one of them spoke
For the barring of the door, oh

So first they ate the white puddings
And then they ate the black, oh
Though muckle thought the goodwife to herself
Yet ne'er a word she spoke, oh

Then said the one unto the other
Here man, take ye my knife, oh
Do ye take off the old man's beard
And I'll kiss the goodwife, oh

But there's no water in the house
And what shall we do then, oh
What ails ye at the pudding brew
That boils into the pan, oh

Oh, up then started our goodman
And an angry man was he, oh
"Will ye kiss my wife before my eyes
And scald me with pudding brew, oh"

Then up and started our goodwife
Gave three skips upon the floor, oh
"Goodman ye spoke the foremost word
Ye must rise and bar the door, oh"

Child #275
sung by Jean Redpath on Skipping Barefoot and Nye on Early
  English Ballads
@ballad
filename[ BARDOOR
play.exe BARDOOR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BARSTED KING OF ENGLAND

Oh, the minstrels sing of an English King of many long years ago
Who ruled his land with an iron hand though his morals were weak and low.
His only outer garment was a dirty undershirt
That managed to hide the royal pride but never hid the dirt.

Chorus:
He was wild and woolly and full of fleas
And he had his women by twos and threes;
God bless the Barsted king of England.

Oh, the Queen of Spain was an amorous Jane,
A lascivious wench was she;
Who loved to play in a royal way
With the King across the sea.
She often sent a message by royal messenger
To ask the King to come and spend a night or two with her.   (Cho.)

Now, the King he had a rival bold whose name was Philip of France,
Who swore he'd stop this carrying on - by the seat of his royal pants.
So off he sent straightway to Spain to steal the Queen away;
To foil the King with a royal ring, and all on a summer's day.  (Cho.)

When the news of this foul deed was heard within the royal halls,
The King he swore by the shirt he wore, he'd have his rival's neck.
So he sent for the Duke of Zippity-Zap, who had a dose of the clippety-clap,
To pass it on to Philip of France; and all on a summer's day.  (Cho.)

Well, the Queen grew very wary when she next saw Philip of France.
She decided that the Frenchman had gone and lost his chance.
So then she straightway called our King and offered him her hand,
And the sound of ringing wedding bells was heard throughout the land.  (Cho.)

They had a royal wedding - all his subjects wished him well.
And the dancers danced without their pants, and so did the King as well.
His only outer garment was the dirty yellow shirt
With which he tried to hide his hide, but couldn't hide the dirt.  (Cho.)

@bawdy @royal
filename[ BSTDKING
RP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BASKET OF EGGS

Down in Sandbank fields, two sailors they were walking,
Their pockets were both lined with gold.
And as together they were talking
A fair maid there they did behold.
With a little basket standing by her
As she sat down to take her ease.
To carry it for her one of them offered
The answer was: "Sir, if you please".

One of these sailors took the basket.
"There's eggs in the basket, please take care:
And if by chance you should out-walk me
At the Half-way house please leave them there."
Behold these sailors, they did out-walk her,
The Half-way house they did pass by.
The pretty damsel she laughed at their fancy
And on the sailors she kept her eye.
When these two sailors came unto an ale-house,
There they did call for a pint of wine.
Saying: "Landlord, landlord, what fools in this nation!
This young maid from her eggs we've twined
O Landlord, landlord, bring us some bacon
We have these eggs and we'll have some dressed."
Behold, these sailors were much mistaken
As you shall say when you hear the rest.

'Twas then the landlord he went to the basket
Expecting of some eggs to find.
He said: "Young man, you're much mistaken,
Instead of eggs I've found a child."
Then one of them sat down to weeping
The other said: "It's not worth while.
Here's fifty guineas I'll give to the baby
If any woman will take the child."
The pretty young damsel she sat by the fire,
And she had a shawl drawn over her face.
She said:"I'll take it and kindly use it
When first I see the money paid."
One of the sailors threw down the money
Great favor to the babe was shown.
"Since it is so, then let's be friendly
For you know this child it is your own."

"Don't you remember a-dancing with Nancy
As long ago as last Easter day?"
"Oh yes and I do and she pleased my fancy
So now the fiddler I have paid."
One of the sailors went up to the basket
And he kicked the basket o'er and o'er.
"Since it is so, may we all be contented
But I'm hanged if I'll like eggs any more!"

from Penguin Book of English Folksongs
see also QUARERYE and XMASGOOS
@sailor @baby @trick
filename[ BASKETEG
play.exe BASKETEG
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BASTARD KING OF ENGLAND

Oh, the minstrels sing of an English King of many long years ago
Who ruled his land with an iron hand though his mind was weak and low.
He love to shag the royal stag that roamed the royal wood,
But better yet to lie in bed and pull the royal pud.
His only outer garment was a dirty undershirt
That managed to hide the royal pride but couldn't hide the dirt.

Chorus:
He was wild and woolly and full of fleas
And his terrible tool hung down to his knees---
God bless the Bastard king of England.

Oh, the Queen of Spain was an amorous Jane,
And a sprightly dame was she;
Who loved to fool with the royal tool
Of the King across the sea.
So she sent a royal message by a royal messenger
To ask the King to bring his ding and spend a night with her.
(Cho.)

When Philip of France heard this, by chance
He declared, before his court:
"The Queen prefers my rival, because my dong is short."
So he sent the Count of Zippity-Zap to slip the Queen a dose of
the clap
To pass it to the Bastard King of England. (Cho.)

When the King of England heard of this, he was walking through his halls
And he up and swore by the royal whore that he'd have the Frenchman's balls
He offered up both half his lands and a piece of the Queen Hortense
To any British subject who'd de-nut the King of France. (Cho.)

Well the Earl of Sussex heard of this and straight-aways went to
France
Where he swore he was a fairy, so the King let down his pants,
He knotted a thong around that prong, and jumped on his horse, and rode along
And dragged him to the bastard king of England.  (Cho.)
When the King of England saw this sight, he shit all over the floor,
For during the ride, his rival's pride had stretched a yard or more
Then the merry maids of England, came down from London town
And shouted 'round the castle walls "To Hell with the British crown!"

And Philip of France usurped the throne, his scepter was the royal bone
By which he'd bitched the bastard King of England! (Cho.)

NOTE: Attributed (possibly apochryphally) to Rudyard Kipling
@bawdy @royal
filename[ BSTDKNG2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BATTLE CRY OF FREEDOM
(George Root)

Yes, we'll rally 'round the flag, boys, we'll rally once again,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
We will rally from the hillside, we'll gather from the plain
Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

cho: The Union forever, hurrah, boys, hurrah!
     Down with the traitor, up with the star!
     While we rally 'round the flag, boys, rally once again
     Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

We are springing to the call
Of our brothers gone before
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And we'll fill the vacant ranks
With a million Free men more,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.
cho:

We will welcome to our numbers
The loyal, true and brave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom,
And although he may be poor
He shall never be a slave,
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom.

cho:

So we're springing to the call
From the  East and from the West
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom
And we'll hurl the rebel crew
From the land we love the best
Shouting the battle cry of Freedom

cho:
@America  @Civil @war
filename[ BATTLCRY
play.exe BATTLCRY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BATTLE HYMN OF THE NEW SOCIALIST PARTY
(Leon Rosselson)

The cloth cap and the working class, as images are dated.
For we are Labour's avante-garde, and we were educated.
By tax adjustments we have planned to institute the Promised Land
And just to show we're still sincere, we sing The Red Flag once a year.

Firm principles and policies are open to objections;
And a streamlined party image is the way to win elections.
So raise the umbrella high, the bowler hat, the college tie
We'll stand united, raise a cheer. And sing The Red Flag once a year.

It's one step forward, one step back. Our dance is devilish daring
A leftward shuffle, a rightward tack, then pause to take our bearings.
We'll reform the country bit by bit, so nobody will notice it
Then ever after, never fear, we'll sing The Red Flag once a year.

We will not cease from mental fight till every wrong is righted,
And all men are equal quite, and all our leaders knighted.
For we are sure if we persist to make the New Year's Honours list.
Then every loyal labour peer will sing The Red Flag once a Year.

So vote for us, and not for them, we're just as true to NATO,
And we'll be calm and British when we steer the ship of state-O.
  We'll stand as firm as them            *
  To show we're patriotic gentlemen      *
Though man to man shall brothers be, deterence is our policy.
So raise the mushroom cloud on high, within their shades we'll live and die.
Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer, we'll sing The Red Flag once a year.

    * these two lines sung to tune of "send her victorious, happy and
     glorious" from God Save the King.

See also ADASONG, REDFLAG, FOREJOB
Copyright Leon Rosselson
@English @political @parody
filename[ NEWSOC
play.exe REDFLAG
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC
(JULIA WARD HOWE)

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored,
He has loosed the fateful lightening of His terrible swift sword
His truth is marching on.

cho: Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
     Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
     Glory! Glory! Hallelujah!
     His truth is marching on.

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps
They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps
l can read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps
His day is marching on.

cho:
I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnish`d rows of steel,
"As ye deal with my contemners, So with you my grace shall deal;"
Let the Hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel
Since God is marching on.

cho:

He has sounded form the trumpet that shall never call retreat
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.

cho:

He has sounded form the trumpet that shall never call retreat
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment-seat
Oh, be swift, my soul, to answer Him! be jubilant, my feet!
Our God is marching on.
cho:

ln the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.

cho:
@America  @Civil @war @hymn
filename[ GLORYHAL
play.exe JOHNBRWN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BATTLE OF 'ASTINGS
(Stanley Holloway)

 I'll tell of the Battle of 'astings,
   as 'appened in days long gone by,
 When William became King of England
   and 'arold got shot in the eye.

 'Twere like this: one day in October
   King William, who were always a toff,
 And  'aving no bets on at the moment,
   'ad given 'is lads a day off.

 They'd all taken votes to go fishing,
   When someone in the Conqueror's ear,
 Said, "Eh, let's go put breeze up Saxons."
   Said Bill, "Dah, gum, 'at's an idear."

 So turning around to his sodjers,
   And lifting his great Nordic voice,
 Said, " 'ands up who's going to England,"
   What were swank, as they 'adn't no choice.

 So they set sail about teatime,
   The weather was calm and so still
 'at quarter to ten the next morning
  'ey landed at a place called Beck's Hill.

 When 'arold 'ad saw that they'd landed,
   'e came up with venom and hate,
 Saying, "If you've come 'ere for regatta,
   You've come 'ere just six weeks too late."

 But William arose cool and haughty,
   And said, "I'll 'ave none of your cheek,
 And by the way, get your throne reupholstered,
   I'll be wanting to use it next week."

 It were a beautiful day for a battle,
   The Normans set off with a will,
 And when they'd all duly assembled,
   They tossed for the top of the 'ill.

 'arold, 'e won the advantage,
   On 'illtop 'e took up 'is stand,
 With 'is knaves and 'is cads all around 'im,
   On 'is 'orse, with 'is 'awk in 'is 'and.

 Kickoff was sharp at 2:30,
   And as soon as the whistle 'ad went
 Both sides started banging each other,
   Till the swineherds could 'ear 'em in Kent.

 'arold 'ad best line of forwards,
   Well armed with buckler and sword,
 But Normans 'ad best combination,
   So when 'alftime come neither 'ad scored.

 Then Bill called 'is cohorts together,
   And said, "Let's pretend that we're beat,
 And when we get Saxons on level,
   We can cut off their means of retreat."

 So they ran and the Saxons ran after,
   Just exactly as William 'ad planned,
 Leaving 'arold alone on the 'illtop,
   On 'is 'orse, with 'is 'awk in 'is 'and.

 When William 'ad saw what 'ad 'appened,
   'is bow and 'is arrow 'e drew,
 'E went straight up to 'arold and shot 'im,
   --'E were offside, but what could they do?

 Then Normans turned round with a fury,
   And gave back both parry and thrust,
 Till battle were all over bar shouting,
   And you couldn't see Saxons for dust.

 And after the battle were over,
   There, sitting so stately and grand,
 Was 'arold, with eyeful of arrow,
   On 'is 'orse, with 'is 'awk in 'is 'and.

 from sondra stigen, 1984
@recitation @war @royal   @English
filename[ BTTLHAST
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BATTLE OF HARLAW

As I cam in by Denniedeer
An' doon by Netherha'
There was fifty thousand Hielandmen
A-marchin' to Harlaw."
  Wi' my dirrum doo dirrum doo daddie dirrum dey

As I cam on and further on
And doon by Balquhain
It's ther I met Sir James the Rose
And wi' him, Sir John the Graham

"Oh came ye frae the Highlands man,
Oh cam ye a' the wey?
Saw ye McDonald and his men
As they cam in frae Skye?

"Yes we cam frae the Highlands man
An we cam a' the wey
And we saw McDonald and his men
As they cam in frae Skye."

"Oh was ye near McDonald's men?
Did ye their numbers see?
Come tellm me Johnnie Hielandman
What micht their numbers be?"

"Yes we was near and near eneuch
And we their numbers saw
There was fifty thousand hielandmen
A-marchin' to Harlaw."

"Gin that be true," says Sir James the Rose,
"Will come nae muckle speed.
We'll cry upon our merry men
An' turn oor horses head."

"oh na, Oh na," says John the Graham,
"That thing can never be
The gallant Grahams were never best
We'll try what we can die."

As I cam on and further on
And doon and by Harlaw
They fell fu close on ilka side
Sic strokes ye never saw.

They fell fu close on ilka side
Sic stroked ye never saw
For ilka sword gaed clash for clash
At the battle o' Harlaw.

The Hielandmen wi' their lang swords
They laid on us fu' sair
And they drove back oor merry men
Three acres breadth and mair

Braves Forbes to his brother said,
"Oh brither don't ye see.
They've beat us back on ilka side
And we'll be forced to flee."

Oh na, Oh na," my brother said,
"That thing can never be.
You'll tak your sword into your hand
And ye'll come on wi' me."

Then back to back the brithers twa
Gaed in among the throng
And they laid doon the Hielandmen
Wi' swords baith sharp and lang.

The first ae stroke that Forbes struck,
He gart McDonald reel
And the neist ae stroke that Forbes struck,
The brave McDonald fell.

And siccin a Pitlariche
I'm sure ye never saw
As was among the Hielandmen
When they saw McDonald fa'

And when they saw that he was dead
They turned and ran awa'
And they turned him in Leggert's den
A mile abeen Harlaw

Some rade, some ran and some did gang
They were a' sma' record
But Forbes and his merry men
They slew them a' the road

On Monoday at mornin'
The battle it began
On Saturday at gloamin'
Ye'd kentna wha had won

Gin onybody spier at you
For them that cam awa'
Ye can tell them plain and plain enough
They're sleeping at Harlaw.

Child #163
@Scots @war
from Bonnie Bunch of Roses
ballad mentioned in 1549
Battle occurred July 24, 1411 near Aberdeen
filename[ BATHARLW
play.exe BATHARLW
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BATTLE OF JERICHO

cho: Joshua fought the battle of Jericho
     Jericho, Jericho,
     Joshua fought the battle of Jericho,
     And the walls come tumblin' down.

You may talk about your kings of Gideon,
You may talk about your men of Saul,
But there's none like good old Joshua
At the battle of Jericho.

Chorus

Right up to the walls of Jericho
They marched with spear in hand,
Go blow them ram horns, Joshua cried
Cause the battle is in my hand.

Chorus

Then the lamb, ram, sheep horns begin to blow
And the trumpets begin to sound
Joshua's told the children to shout that mornin'
And the walls come tumblin' down.

Chorus

@bible    @war @hero @spiritual @religion
filename[ BATJERCO
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS

'Twas on the eighth of January, just at the dawn of day;
We spied those British officers all dress'd in battle array.
Old Jackson then gave orders, "Each man to keep his post,
And form a line from right to left and let no time be lost."

With rockets and with bombshells, like comets we let fly;
Like lions they advanced us, the fate of war to try;
Large streams of fiery vengeance upon them we let pour,
While many a brave commander lay withering in his gore.

Thrice they marched up to the charge, and thrice they gave the ground
We fought them full three hours, then bugle horns did sound
Great heaps of human pyramids lay strewn before our eyes;
We blew the horns and rang the bells to drown their dying cries.

Come all you British noblemen and listen unto me;
Our Frontiersman has proved to you America is free.
But tell your royal master when you return back home,
That out of thirty thousand men, but few of you returned.

From The American History Songbook, Silverman
@America @war @1812 @battle
filename[ BATNWOR2
play.exe BATNWOR2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
                           BATTLE OF NEW ORLEANS
(Jimmy Driftwood; tune: Eighth of January, trad.)

Well, in 18 and 14, we took a little trip
Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Missisip
We took a little bacon and we took a little beans
And we met the bloody British in the town of New Orleans

  We fired our guns and the British kept a comin'
  There wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago
  We fired once more and they began a running
  Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico

Well, I seed Marse Jackson come a-walkin' down the street
And a-talkin' to a pirate by the name of Jean Lafitte;
He gave Jean a drink that he brung from Tennessee,
And the pirate said he'd help us drive the British to the sea.

Well the French told Andrew, "You had better run
For Packenham's a=comin' with a bullet in his gun."
Old Hickory said he didn't give a damn
He's a-gonna whup the britches off of Colonel Packenham.

Well, we looked down the river and we seed the British come
And there must have been a hundred of them beating on the drum
They stepped so high and they made their bugles ring
While we stood behind our cotton bales and didn't say a thing

Old Hickory said we could take em by surprise
If we didn't fire a musket till we looked em in the eyes
We held our fire till we seed their face well
Then we opened up our squirrel guns and really gave em well..

Well they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles
And they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn't go
They ran so fast the hounds couldn't catch em
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico

Well we fired our cannons till the barrels melted down
So we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round
We filled his head with minie balls and powdered his behind
And when we touched the powder off, the 'gator lost his mind

They lost their pants and their pretty shiny coats
And their tails was all a-showin' like a bunch of billy goats.
They ran down the river with their tongues a-hanging out
And they said they got a lickin', which there wasn't any doubt.

Well we marched back to town in our dirty ragged pants
And we danced all night with the pretty girls from France;
We couldn't understand 'em, but they had the sweetest charms
And we understood 'em better when we got 'em in our arms.

Well, the guide who brung the British from the sea
Come a-limping into camp just as sick as he could be,
He said the dying words of Colonel Packenham
Was, "You better quit your foolin' with your cousin Uncle Sam."

Well, we'll march back home, but we'll never be content
Till we make Old Hick'ry the people's president.
And every time we think about the bacon and the beans
We'll think about the fun we had way down in New Orleans.

Copyright Warden Music Co., Inc.
recorded by Pete Seeger, Jimmy Driftwood, and Johnny Horton
@war @America
filename[ BATNEWOR
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURN

It fell about the Lammas tide,
When the muir-men win their hay,
The doughty Douglas bound him to ride
Into England, to drive a prey.

He chose the Gordons and the Graemes,
With them the Lindesays, light and gay;
But the Jardines wald not with him ride,
And they rue it to this day.

And he has burned the dales of Tyne,
And part of Bambrough shire,
And three good towers on Reidswire fells,
He left them all on fire.

And he marched up to Newcastle,
And rode it round about:
"O wha's the lord of this castle?
Or wha's the lady o't?"

But up spake proud Lord Percy then,
And O but he spake hie!
I am the lord of this castle,
My wife's the lady gay.

"If thou'rt the lord of this castle,
Sae weel it pleases me,
For, ere I cross the Border fells,
The tane of us shall die."

He took a lang spear in his hand,
Shod with the metal free,
And for to meet the Douglas there
He rode right furiouslie.

But O how pale his lady looked,
Frae aff the castle-wa,
When down before the Scottish spear
She saw proud Percy fa.

"Had we twa been upon the green,
And never an eye to see,
I wad hae had you, flesh and fell;
But your sword sall gae wi me."

The Otterbourne's a bonnie burn;
'Tis pleasant there to be;
But there is nought at Otterbourne
To feed my men and me.

"The deer rins wild on hill and dale,
The birds fly wild frae tree to tree;
But there is neither bread nor kale
To fend my men and me."

"Yet I will stay at Otterbourne,
Where you shall welcome be;
And, if ye come not at three dayis end,
A fause lord I'll ca thee."

"Thither will I come," proud Percy said,
"By the might of Our Ladye;"
"There will I bide thee." said the Douglas,
"My troth I plight to thee."

They lighted high on Otterbourne,
Upon the bent sae brown;
They lighted high on Otterboune,
And threw their pallions down.

And he that had a bonnie boy
Sent out his horse to grass;
And he that had not a bonnie boy
His ain servant he was.

But up then spake a little page,
Before the peep of dawn:
"O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord,
For Percy's hard at hand."

"Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud!
Sae loud I hear ye lie:
For Percy had not men yestreen
To dight my men and me."

"But I have dreamed a dreary dream,
Beyond the Isle of Skye;
I saw a dead man win a fight,
And I think that man was I."

He belted on his guid braid sword,
And to the field he ran,
But he forgot the helmet good,
That should have kept his brain.

When Percy with the Douglas met,
I wat he was fu fain;
They swakked their swords, till sair they swat
And the blood ran down like rain.

But Percy with his good broad sword,
That could so sharply wound,
Has wounded Douglas on the brow,
Till he fell to the ground.

Then he call'd on his little foot-page,
And said, "Run speedilie,
And fetch my ain dear sister's son,
Sir Hugh Montgomery."

"My nephew good," the Douglas said,
"What recks the death of ane!
Last night I dreamed a dreary dream,
And I ken the day's thy ain."

"My wound is deep; I fain would sleep;
Take thou the vanguard of the three,
And hide me by the braken-bush,
That grows on yonder lilye lee."

"O bury me by the braken-bush,
Beneath the blooming brier;
Let never a living mortal ken
That ere a kindly Scot lies here."

He lifted up that noble lord,
Wi the saut tear in his ee;
He hid him in the braken-bush,
That his merrie men might not see.

The moon was clear, the day drew near,
The spears in flinders flew,
But mony a gallant Englishman
Ere day the Scotsmen slew.

The Gordons good, in English blood
They steepd their hose and shoon;
The Lindsays flew like fire about,
Till all the fray was done.

The Percy and Montgomery met,
That either of other were fain ;
They swapped* swords, and they twa swat,
And aye the blood ran down between.

"Now yield thee, yield thee, Percy," he said,
"Or else I vow I'll lay thee low!"
"To whom must I yield," quoth Earl Percy,
"Now that I see it must be so?"

"Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun,"
Nor shalt thou yield to me;
But yield to the braken-bush,
That grows upon yon lilye lee. "

"I will not yield to a braken-bush,
Nor yet will I yield to a brier;
But I would yield to Earl Douglas,
Or Sir Hugh Montgomery, if he were here."

As soon as he knew it was Montgomery,
He struck his sword's point in the gronde;
The Montgomery was a courteous knight,
And quickly took him by the honde.

This deed was done at the Otterbourne,
About the breaking of the day;
Earl Douglas was buried at the braken-bush,
And the Percy led captive away.

CHIld #161
@Scots @battle @border
filename[ OTTRBURN
play.exe OTTRBURN
play.exe OTTRBURN.2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGE AT ENDERCROSS
(Dan Schatz)

"To the river we must go!" cried the champion at arms
"Warriors take your swords and wizards take your charms
There awaits on the fields of the shire an army fierce and cruel
And to them we will prove this day that the force of good does rule"

"Drink a health to the queen and regent and swiftly we must ride
For the army of North Aventol waits by the riverside
And we must stike when the time is right or the battle will be lost
And so we will take haste to fight at the Bridge at Endercross"

So heed the call you loyal sons and run to battle everyone
WeUll fight for Queen Utill all are lost
At the Battle of the Bridge at Endercross

The army it set forth under a sky both dark and gray
They rode till they came to the river and they turned the Northern way
"Take caution now and silence, all!"  the champion did say
"For we must surprise the Aventol if we're to take the day"

Then from ahead there came the sound of soldiers in the field
"It's onward then!" the champion cried and he he raised his magic shield
And there they met the Aventol and there the swords did cross
And the blood, it flowed quite freely Uneath the Bridge at Endercross

So heed the call you loyal sons and run to battle everyone
WeUll fight for Queen Utill all are lost
At the Battle of the Bridge at Endercross

The armies fought from noon to night and the dead lay where they fell
For there were none to bury them.  It seemed the rage of Hell
And few did live to tell the tale of the Aventol's demise
It seemed a victory cruel and hard for the ones that did survive

And so, my friends, when daylight came the warriors crawled away
The bodies were too many, so they left them where they lay
The battle it was won that day but the soldiers, they were lost
And the ghosts do struggle to this date by the Bridge at Endercross

They heard the call, the loyal sons, and ran to battle every one
They fought for Queen Utill all were lost
At the Battle of the Bridge at Endercross
(repeat)


Copyright 1992 by Dan Schatz, 36-String Music
@myth @fantasy @battle
filename[ BRIDGEAT
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BATTLE OF THE KEGS
(Francis Hopkinson)

Gallants, attend, and hear a friend
Trill forth harmonious ditty,
Strange things I'll tell that late befell
In Philadelphia city.
     'Twas early day, as poets say,
     Just when the sun was rising,
     A soldier stood on log of wood
     And saw a sight surprising.

As, in amaze, he stood to gaze;
The truth can't be denied, sirs,
He spied a score of kegs or more,
Come floating down the tide, sirs.
 A sailor, too, in jerkin blue,
 The strange appearance viewing,
 First damned his eyes in great surprise,
 Then said, "Some mischief brewing."

"The kegs now hold the rebel bold
Packed up like pickled herring;
And they've come down to attack the town
In this new way of ferrying."
 The soldier flew, the sailor, too,
 And, scared almost to death, sirs,
 Wore out their shoes to spread the news,
 And ran till out of breath, sirs.

Now up and down, throughout the town,
Most frantic scenes were acted;
And some ran here and some ran there,
Like men almost distracted.
 Some "Fire" cried, which some denied,
 But said the earth had quaked;
 And girls and boys, with hideous noise,
 Ran through the town half-naked.

Lord William, he, snug as a flea,
Lay all this time a-snoring
Nor dreamed of harm as he lay warm
In bed with _______________
 Now, in a fright he starts upright
 Awakened by such a clatter;
 He rubs both eyes and boldly cries,
 "For God's sake, what's the matter?"

At his bedside he then espied
Sir Erskine at command, sirs;
Upon one foot he had a boot,
And t'other in his hand, sirs.
 "Arise!  Arise!"  Sir Erskine cries;
 "The rebels---more's the pity---
 Without a boat are all afloat,
 And ranged before the city."

"The motley crew, in vessels new
With Satan for their guide, sir,
Packed up in bags, or wooden kegs,
Come driving donwn the tide sir.
 Therefore, prepare for bloody war!
 Those kegs must all be routed,
 Or surely we despised shall be,
 And British courage doubted."

The royal band now ready stand
All ranged in dead array, sirs,
With stomach stout to see it out,
And make a bloody day, sirs.
 The cannons roar from shore to shore,
 The small arms make a rattle;
 Since wars began, I'm sure no man
 E'er saw so strange a battle.

The rebel vales, the rebel dales,
With rebel trees surrounded,
The distant woods, the hills and floods,
With rebel echoes sounded.
 The fish below swam to and fro,
 Attacked from every quarter-
 "Why sure," thought they, "the devil's to pay
 'Mongst folks above the water."

The kegs, 'tis said, tho' strongly made
Of rebel staves and hoops, sirs,
Could not oppose the powerful foes,
The conquering British troops, sirs.
  From morn to night these men of might
  Displayed amazing courage,
  And when the sun was fairly down
  Returned to sup their porridge.

A hundred men, with each a pen,
Or more---upon my words, sirs,
It is most true---would be too few
Their valor to record, sirs,
  Such feats did they perform that day
  Upon those wicked kegs, sirs,
  That years to come, if they get home
  They'll make their boasts and brags, sir.

During the American Revolution, during the British occupation of
     Philadelphia, some ingenious Yankee had the idea of floating
     some wooden kegs, loaded with gunpowder, down the Delaware
     River to explode against the British ships anchored there.
     The boms were badly timed, and most of the kegs blew up
     against the ice in the river. British troops and ships,
     panicked by the explosions, fired  small arms and cannon
     broadsides into the river. RG

Tune: Yankee Doodle
@America @revolution @war @battle
filename[ BATTKEGS
play.exe YANKDOOD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BATTLE OF THE WINDMILL

On Tuesday morning we marched out
In command of Colonel Fraser
With swords and bay'nets of polished steel
As keen as any razor
Unto the Windmill Plains we went
We gave them three loud cheers
To let them know, that day below
We're the Prescott Volunteers

Oh, we're the boys that feared no noise
When the cannons loud did roar;
We cut the rebels left and right
When they landed on our shore.
Brave MacDonall nobly led
His men into the field;
They did not flinch, no, not an inch,
Till the rebels had to yield.

He swung his sword right round his head
Saying, 'Glengarrys, follow me,
We'll gain the day without delay,
And that you'll plainly see!'
The rebels now remain at home,
We wish that they would come,
We'd cut them up both day and night
By command of Colonel Young,

If e'er they dare return again
They'll see what we can do;
We'll show them British play, my boys,
As we did at Waterloo,
Under Captain Jessup we will fight,
Let him go where be will;
With powder and ball they'll surely fall
As they did at the Windmill,

If I were like great Virgil bright,
I would employ my quill:
I would write both day and night
Concerning the Windmill,
Lest to intrude I will conclude
And finish off my song:
We'll pay a visit to Ogdensburg,
And that before it's long.

@history @Canada @rebel
From Folke, Penguin Book of Canadian Folk Songs
rebellion in 1837
tune: Girl I Left Behind Me
filename[ BATWNDML
play.exe BRGHTON
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BATTLESHIP OF MAINE

McKinley called for volunteers,
I went and got my gun,
First Spaniard I saw coming,
I dropped my gun and run,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

cho: At war with that great nation Spain
     When I get back to Spain l want to honor my name,
     It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

Why are you running,
Are you afraid to die?
The reason that I'm running
Is because I cannot fly
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

The blood was a-running
And l was running too,
I give my feet good exercise
I had nothing else to do,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

When they were a'chasing me,
I fell down on my knees,
First thing I cast my eyes upon
Was a great big pot of pea,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

The peas they were greasy,
The meat it was fat.
The boys was fighting Spaniards
While I was fighting that,
It was all about that Battleship of Maine.

Recorded by the New Lost City Ramblers
@America  @war @coward
filename[ BTTLMAIN
play.exe BTTLMAIN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BAY OF BISCAY, OH

Ye gentlemen of England who live home at your ease,
It's little do you think of the dangers of the seas;
When we receive our orders we are obliged to go
On the main to proud Spain where the stormy winds do blow.

Was on the fourth of August from Spithead we set sail
With Ramely and Company blest with a pleasant gale;
We sailed along together in the Bay of Biscay, Oh,
Where a dreadful storm it did arise and the stormy wind did blow.

The Ramely she left us, she could no longer stay
And by distress of weather from us she bore away;
When she arrived at Gibralter they told the people so
How they thought we were all lost at the Bay of Biscay, Oh.

Kind heaven did protect her, it was not quite so bad,
First we lost our foremast, and then we lost our flag.
And then we lost our mainmast, one of our guns also
And the men, we lost ten on the Bay of Biscay, Oh.

When the mainmast started, it gave a dreadful stroke,
In our starboard quarter, a large hole did it broke.
Then the seas came battering in, our guns soon overflow
So boldly she plowed it on the Bay of Biscay Oh.

The night being dark and dreary, at twelve o'clock that night
Our captain in the forecastle he was killed then outright.
The ring upon his finger in pieces burst in two
There he laid until next day when we overboard him threw.

The storm it being abated, we rigged up jury mast
And steered it for Gibralter, where we arrived at last
They said it was a dismal sight as ever they did know
We forced to drink wine and drowned all our woe.

Note: No relation to BISCAYO
@sailor @disaster @storm
filename[ BAYBISC
play.exe BAYBISC
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BAY OF BISCAY-O

Of all the harbors, east or west,
There is one port that I love best;
So whichever way the wind doth blow
I'll steer for the bonny Bay of Biscay-O.

cho: For the girl I love is waiting there
     With her eyes of blue and her golden hair,
     So I eastward hi, and westward ho
     But return to the bonny Bay of Biscay-O!

At night in my hammock I will sleep
As I sail upon the briny deep,
Though the tempests rage and the wild winds blow
I'll dream of the bonny Bay of Biscay-O.
cho:

In one more year, I will settle down
With my bride in this free seaport town,
She is sweeter and dearer by far, I know
Than the wind of the bonny Bay of Biscay-O.


(Collected by Frank Warner from Mrs. Lena Bourne Fish;
recorded by Warner on Hudson Valley Folk Songs, DISC Records,
late 1940's)

Copyright Anne Warner
@sailor @love
filename[ BISCAYO
play.exe BISCAYO
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BAY OF FUNDY
(Gordon Bok)
(A)  Am Dm / Dm C G / F C / Dm Am

All you Maine-men, proud and young,
When you run your Easting down,
Don't go down to Fundy Bay,
She'll wear your time away.

Fundy's long and Fundy's wide,
Fundy's fog and rain and tide;
Never see the sun or sky,
Just the green wave going by.

     C G / G Am

     Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;
     Wonder why, wonder why.

Oh, you know, I'd rather ride
The Grenfell Strait or the Breton tide,
Spend my days on the Labrador,
And never see old Fundy's shore,

All my days on the Labrador,
And never see old Fundy's shore.

     Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;
     Wonder why, wonder why.

Give her staysail, give her main,
In the darkness and the rain;
I don't mind the wet and cold,
I just don't like the growing old.

I don't mind the wet and cold,
I just don't like the growing old.

     Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;
     Wonder why, wonder why.

East-by-North or East-North_East,
Give her what she steers the best;
I don't want the foggy wave
To be my far and lonely grave.

I don't want the foggy wave
To be my far and lonely grave.

     Cape Sable's horn blows all day long;
     Wonder why, wonder why.

     Cape Breton's bells ring the swells;
     Ring for me, ring for me.

Words and music by Gordon Bok.
Recorded by Gordon on "Bay of Fundy," FSI-54
Copyright Folk Legacy Records, 1977
DC
"This is about a long and weary, windless trip from Maine around
to Halifax on a little black schooner that seemed to move only by
the slatting of her gear.  We had a coal stove in her, and the
foresail used to downdraft onto the charlienoble, turn the stack
into an intake and the cabin into a chimney.  So, with the
coalgas and the wet, the offwatch was not much more comfortable
than the deadwatch." - GB

@sailor @water
filename[ FUNDYBAY
play.exe FUNDYBAY
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BE BAW BABBITY

1.
Be baw babbity,
Babbity, babbity,
Be baw babbity,
Kiss the bonnie wee lassie.

2.
B O Babbity, babbity, babbity,
B O Babbity, babbity, busty barley.

Kneel down, kiss the ground,
Kiss the ground, kiss the ground,
Kneel down, kiss the ground,
Kiss a bonnie lassie.

3.
Be Bo Babbity, Babbity, Babbity,
Be Bo Babbity, Babbity Bouster, Boully.
Kneel down and kiss the ground, kiss the ground, kiss
   the ground,
Kneel down and kiss the ground, kiss a bonnie lassie.
Take any one you choose, sir, you choose, sir, you
   choose, sir,
Take any one you choose, sir, the fairest in the ring.

4.
Bee, baw, babbity,
Babbity, babbity,
Bee, baw, babbity,
Bab at the bowster brawly.

Kneel down, kiss the ground,
Kiss the ground, kiss the ground,
Kneel down, kiss the ground,
Kiss a bonnie wee lassie.

I wadna hae a laddie O,
A laddie O, a laddie O,
I wadna hae a laddie O,
I'll choose a bonnie wee lassie.
________________________________________________________

(1) M.S., Leslie, Fife, c. 1936.  The tune is the same
as Bab at the Bowster, q.v.
(2) Maclagan, GDA (1901), 57.  Tune = the original, and
The Keel Row. Girl in front dances with handkerchief,
and the line answers.  She spreads the hankie on the
ground before her choice, and the two kneel and kiss.
Then they exchange places, and the game continues.
(3) Maclagan, 58; a ring dance; "one in the centre lays
hold [at the word "ring"] of any one she chooses, kisses
her, and takes her place in the ring.  The one chosen
takes her place in the centre, and the game proceeds as
before."
(4) MacLennan SNR (1909), 34.
Cf. Opies Singing Games (1985), 207, with tune (Paisley,
1961), = Sheriffmuir.

@Scots @kids @playparty
filename[ KISSGRND
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BE KIND TO YOUR WEB-FOOTED FRIENDS
(FRed Allen)

Be kind to your web-footed friends,
For the duck may be somebody's mother:
Be kind to the denizens of the swamp.
Where the weather is cool and damp

Be kind to your old umbrella,
For some day it may be under the weather,
Be kind to your old pair of shoes.

Be kind to your fur-bearing friends,
For a skunk may be somebody's brother-;
Be kind to your friends with the stripe.

@animal
Printed in Song Fest by Dick and Beth Best
tune: Stars and Stripes Forever
filename[ WEBFOOT
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BE PREPARED
(Tom Lehrer)
(GFG4) C/G7/CF

Be prepared, that's the Boy Scouts marching song
Be prepared, as through life you go along,
Be prepared to hold your liquor pretty well
Don't write naughty words on walls if you can't spell, can't spell

Be prepared! To hide that pack of cigarettes
Don't make book if you can not cover bets
Keep those reefers hidden where you're sure they'll not be found
And be careful not to smoke them when the Scoutmaster's around
For he only will insist that they be shared,
Be prepared.

Be prepared! That's the Boy Scouts' solemn creed!
Be prepared! And be clean in word and deed
Don't solicit for your sister, that's not nice
Unless you get a good percentage of her price

Be prepared! And be careful not to do
Your good deeds when there's no one watching you,
If you're looking for adventure of a new and different kind
And you come across a Girl Scout who is similarly inclined,
Don't be nervous, don't be flustered, don't be scared...
Be prepared!
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright Tom Lehrer
@kids
filename[ SCOUTPRE
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEANS TASTE FINE
(Shel Silverstein)

Now a friend of mine, way back in Chicago
You know, he finally made his pile.
Well he got himself a mansion on Butler and Sheff
An' hHe was livin' in the latest style;
     But I run into him, he was eatin' in a greasy spoon
     While parkled in front was his big limousine.
     I said, "Buddy, you've got so much money
     How come youre in here, eatin beans?"
     An' he said

     After you've been havin' steak for a long time
     Beans, beans taste fine.
     An' after you've been drinkin' champagne and brandy
     You gonna settle for wine.
     He said "The world is funny, and people are strange
     And man is a creature of constant change, and
     After you've been havin' steak for a long time
     Beans, beans taste fine."

Now, you know I ran into another friend of mine
In a rowdy old Clark Street Bar,
I said, "Friend, is it true what I heard about you?
I heard you married a beautiful 18-year old shapely movie star,
     Yet here you sit, tryin' to make out with some barfly
     Who's too old and ugly to be true."
     He said, "Shelley, you're still a very young man
     So sit down. I'll explain it all to you.
     He said,

     After you've been havin' steak for a long time
     Beans, beans taste fine.
     An' after you've been drinkin' champagne and Chivas Regal
     You gonna settle for Thunderbird wine.
     He said "The world is funny, and people are strange
     And man is a creature of constant change, and
     After you've been havin' steak for a long time
     Beans, beans taste fine."

Copyright BMI
filename[ BEANFINE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEANS, BACON AND GRAVY

I was born long ago,
In eighteen ninety-four.
I've seen many a panic, I will own,
I've been hungry, I've been cold,
And now I'm growing old.
But the worst I've seen is nineteen thirty-one.

cho: Oh, those beans, bacon and gravy,
     They almost drive me crazy,
     I eat them, I see them in my dreams.
     When I wake up each morning
     And another day is dawning,
     I know I'll have another mess of beans.

We congregate each morning
At the county barn at dawning,
And everyone is happy, so it seems.
But when our work is done
We file in one by one,
And thank the Lord for one more mess of beans.

We have Hooverized on butter,
For milk we've only water,
And I haven't seen a steak in many a day.
For cakes and pies and jellies
We substitute sow bellies,
For which we work the county road each day.

If there ever comes a time
When I have more than a dime,
They will have to put me under lock and key.
For I've been broke so long
I can only sing this song
Of the workers and their misery.

Another song to Little Old Log Cabin in the Lane RG
@political @depression @food
filename[ BBGRAVY
play.exe LITTLEJO
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEAR AWAY YANKEE, BEAR AWAY BOY

Oh, deep the water an' shallow the shore
     Bear away Yankee, bear away boy
Bear away and dere she go
     Bear away Yankee, bear away boy

Oh deep the water an' shallow the shore
     Bear away Yankee, bear away boy
Bear away to Noble Bay
     Bear away Yankee, bear away boy


Oh what me going tell John Gould today?
Oh what me going tell John Gould today?

Oh what me going tell John Gould today?
Deep the water, shallow the shore.

Bear away Yankee, Bear away boy
Bear away Yankee, Bear away boy.

from Roger Abrahams, Deep the Water, Shallow the Shore
@sailor @BWI @work
filename[ BEARAWAY
play.exe BEARAWAY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEAR AWAY, YANKEE (2)

Who no been off, no come a bay
                               Bear away Yankee, bear away
Who no been off, no come a bay
                           Oh, bear away Yankee, bear away.
                                                         Oh,

If you want, deliver your harpoon, boy
                                    Oh  bear away, Yankee, bear away
                                                                 Oh,
Yankee Doodle Dandy boy.
                                    Oh bear away  Yankee, bear away.


NOTE: chorus and solo overlap. odd typography hopes to indu\icate where.


Oh If you want the gun so hardful, boy
Oh, the gun on the blank, so len' us a hand.

Bear away we go
Bear away to Baltimore.

Hey, away we go
Who no been off np come a bay

Oh, if you want, deliver your harpoon, boy
Oh Yankee Doodle Dandy oh

Hey, stroke man an' le' we go
Bear away to Baltimore.

from Deep the Water, Shallow the Shore, Abrahams
small-boat whaling song
@sailor @work  @whale
filename[ BEARYANK
play.exe BEARYANK
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BEAR WENT OVER THE MOUNTAIN

1.   The bear went over the mountain
     The bear went over the mountain
     The bear went over the mountain
     To see what he could see,

2.   He saw another mountain (3x)
     And what do you think he did?

3.   He climbed the other mountain (3x)
     And what do you think he saw?

(Go back and repeat verses 2 and 3 ad nauseum)

@kids @camp @animal

filename[ BEARMTN
play.exe BEARMTN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEAUTIFUL DREAMER
(Stephen Foster)

Beautiful Dreamer, wake unto me
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee
Sounds of the rude world heard in the day
Lulled by the moonlight have all passed away.

Chorus:

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng
Beautiful dreamer awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me.

@love
filename[ BEAUTDR
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEAUTIFUL, BEAUTIFUL BROWN EYES

"Willie, oh Willie, I love you
Love you with all my heart;
Tomorrow we might have been married,
But liquor has kept us apart."

cho: Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes,
     Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes,
     Beautiful, beautiful brown eyes,
     I'll never love blue eyes again .

"Seven long years l've been married,
l wish l was single again;
A woman never knows of her troubles
Until she has married a man."

Down to the barroom he staggered,
Staggered and fell at the door;
The last words that he ever uttered,
"l'll never get drunk any more."
   (or I'll never see brown eyes no more)

From Ozark Folksongs, Randolph
Collected from Kathleen Oxford, Arkansas, 1941
Recorded by Jimmy Wakely, Roy Acuff, Alton Delmore, Arthur Smith etc.

@love @drink @marriage
filename[ BRWNEYES
play.exe BRWNEYES
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEAVER DAM ROAD

I've worked like a dog and what have I got?
No corn in the crib, no beans in the pot
     It's hard times on the Beaver Dam Road
     It's hard times, poor boy.

Since I didn't have no hog for to kill,
I set me up a purty little still.
     Oh, it's hard times etc.

Yonder come Ray Wilson in a Chevroiet car,
A-looking for the man with the old fruit jar.

He watched my house all the live-long night,
He catched me just about daylight.

He said, "Old boy, you're in to it now,
If you ever get out it will cost you a cow"

He took me by the arm, and he led me to the car,
I bid farewell to the old fruit jar.

He took me to Boone and put me in jail,
Had nobody for to go my bail.

I told that judge that my corn wasn't hoed,
Still he gave me ninety days on the Beaver Dam Road.

Well, my wife sent a letter, said she's faring mighty good
Got a man a-hoeing 'taters and a-chopping all the wood

It's a low down man riding 'round in a car,
Picking on a man with the old fruit lar.

All my friends, l'm a-warning wherever you are,
Don't keep your liquor in an old fruit jar.

From Traditional American Folk Songs, Warner & Warner
     Collected from Frank Proffitt, 1941
@moonshine @jail   @hardtimes
filename[ BEAVRDAM
play.exe BEAVRDAM
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BECAUSE ALL MEN ARE BROTHERS
(Joe Glazer)

   Because all men are brothers, where ever men may be,
   One union shall unite us, forever proud and free.
   No tyrant shall defeat us, no nation strike us down
   All men who toil shall greet us, the whole wide world around.

   My brothers are all others, forever hand in hand
   Where chimes the bell of freedom, there is my native land.
   My brothers tears are my tears, yellow, white or brown.
   My brothers tears are my tears, the whole wide world around.

   Let every voice be thunder, let every heart be strong
   Until all tyrants parish our work shall not be done.
   Let not our memories fail us, the lost year shall be found.
   Let slavery's chains be broken, the whole wide world around.

   Learned off a PPM record during Hawthorne years. (1966-69)
Warren knew Joe Glazer  thru the AFL-CIO. Joe Glazer (a legend in
his own mind) is also a member of FSGW.

Copyright Joe Glazer, assigned to Songs Music, Inc.
@freedom
filename[ BECASBR
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BED OF ROSES
(Steve Gillette and Rex Benson)


You're that one special woman I thought I'd never find.
With the strength to be gentle and the courage to be kind.
And though it hasn't all been roses, still I know you understand.
And one of the these nights when we're sharin' a dream,
     I'm gonna take you by the hand,

And lay you down on a bed of roses.
In that peaceful shelter only love can provide.
I'll lay you down on a bed of roses
And then I'll lay me down right by your side.

There's no diamond on your finger, just a simple wedding band.
It seems your knight in shining armor is just an ordinary man.
Though I promised you a kingdom and we don't have all we planned,
One of these nights when we're makin' believe
     I'm gonna take you by the hand,

And lay you down, on a bed of roses
In that peaceful shelter, only love can provide.
I'll lay you down, on a bed of roses,
And then I'll lay me down, right by your side.

And then I'll lay me down, right by your side.

Recorded by Steve Gillette
@love @flower
filename[ BEDROSES
play.exe BEDROSES
SG


Copyright 1983, Ensign Music, BMI / Jesse Erin Music, ASCAP
Used by permission
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEDLAM BOYS

For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam
Ten thousand miles I traveled
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes
For to save her shoes from gravel.

  Still I sing bonny boys, bonny mad boys
  Bedlam boys are bonny
  For they all go bare and they live by the air
  And they want no drink or money.

I now reprnt that ever
Poor Tom was so disdain-ed
My wits are lost since him I crossed
Which makes me thus go chained

I went down to Satan's kitchen
For to get me food one morning
And there I got souls piping hot
All on the spit a-turning

There I took up a caldron
Where boiled ten thousand harlots
Though full of flame I drank the same
To the health of all such varlets

My staff has murdered giants
My bag a long knife carries
For to cut mince pies from children's thighs
And feed them to the fairies

The spirits white as lightening
Would on me travels guide me
The stars would shake and the moon would quake
Whenever they espied me

No gypsy, slut or doxy
Shall win my mad Tom from me
I'll weep all night, with stars I'll fight
The fray shall well become me

And when that I'll be murdering
The Man in the Moon to the powder
His staff I'll break, his dog I'll shake
And there'll howl no demon louder

So drink to Tom of Bedlam
Go fill the seas in barrels
I'll drink it all, well brewed with gall
And maudlin drunk I'll quarrel

For to see Mad Tom of Bedlam
Ten thousand years I have traveled
Mad Maudlin goes on dirty toes
For to save her shoes from gravel.

@madness
recorded by John and Tony on Dark Ships
filename[ BEDLMBOY
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEDMAKING

Me father he was a good old man
He sent me to service when I was young
But my missus and I, we never could agree
Because that my master he would love me

Me missus she sent me all up aloft
To make up a bed both neat and soft
But me master followed after with a gay gold ring
Saying, Betsy, take this for your bedmaking

Me missus she came upstairs in a haste
And caught masters arms all around me waist
From the top to the bottom she did him fling
Saying, Master, take that for your bedmaking

First in the kitchen and then in the hall
And then in the parlor among the ladies all
And they all asked me where I had been
And I told them, up aloft at the bedmaking

Me missus she turned me all out of doors
She called me a nasty impudent whore
With the weather being wet and my shoes being thin
I wished meself back at the bedmaking

When six months were over and seven months were past
This pretty little maid she grew stout round the waist
She could scarcely lace her stays nor tie her apron string
And twas then that she remembered the bedmaking

When eight months were over and nine months were gone
This pretty little maid bore a lovely young son
She took him to the church and had him christened John
Then she sent him home again to that gay old man

recorded by Frankie Armstrong on Out of Love
  and Martin Carthy on Crown of Horn
@baby
filename[ BEDMAKIN
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEER BARREL POLKA:

There's a garden, what a garden,
 Only happy faces bloom there
 And there's never any room there
 For a worry or a gloom there.
 Oh! there's music and there's dancing
 And a lot of sweet romancing
 When they play a polka
 they all get in the swing:
 Ev'ry time they hear that oom-pa-pa
 Ev'rybody feels so tra-la-la
 They want to throw their cares away
 They all go lah-de-ah-de-ay,
 Then they hear a rumble on the floor
 It's the big surprise they're waiting for
 And all the couples form a ring
 For miles around you'll hear them sing:

 cho:     Roll out the barrel
          We'll have a barrel of fun
          Roll out the barrel
          We've got the blues on the run.
          Zing! Boom! Tar-rar-rel
          Ring out a song of good cheer!
          Now's the time to roll the barrel
          For the gang's all here.


@drink
filename[ BEERBRRL
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEFORE BELIEVING
(Danny Flowers)

Winter summer season is takin' over;
It's quiet like new fallen snow.
I told you summer stormy
But outside it's gettin mighty cold
I told you everything I could about me;
I told you everything I could.

How would you feel
If the world was falling apart around you
Pieces of the sky were falling in your neighbor's yard,
But not on you?
Wouldn't you feel just a little bit funny?
Think maybe there's somethin' you ought to do.

It's illusions, they never lay down before you
The answers are all around
Believing is all the friends you need to talk to
And I'm believing in you.
I told you everything I could about me;
I told you everything I could.

I told you everything I could about me;
I told you everything I could.

Copyright String Music
filename[ BEFORBEL
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEFORE I MET YOU
(Charles Seitz, Joe Lewis & Elmer Rader)

I thought I had seen pretty girls in my life
     But that was before I met you,
I never saw one that I wanted for life.
     But that was before I met you,

cho: I thought I was swinging the world by the tail,
     I thought I could never be blue;
     I thought I'd been kissed and I thought I'd been loved
     But that was before I met you.

I wanted to ramble and always be free
     But that was before I met you,
I said that no woman could ever hold me
     But that was before I met you.

They tell me I must reap just what I have sown,
     But darling, I hope it's not true;
For once I made plans about living alone
     But that was before I met you.

@country @love
Copyright 1955 Cedarwood Publishing Co.
filename[ BEFORMET
play.exe BEFORMET
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEFORE THEY CLOSE THE MINSTREL SHOW
(Bob Coltman)

The poster's peeling underneath
Last summer's morning glory vine
An old white hat and a stump of cigar
And an empty bottle of wine

Lay me down Carolina, lay me down
Don't want to wake up in the morning no more
Sing me one slow sad song
For this one last old time
Before they close the minstrel show

Banjo's got a broken string
Don't expect I'll get to fix it now
Won't be no more chance to sing
I'm rusty anyhow

Daddy Bones is dead, I guess
You probably don't know or care
And Frank and Arch has gone away
Somewhere, I don't know where

The money and the crowd run out
Before we left the last town
This old show has played its run
And rung the curtain down

Don't know where we go from here
Come to that, I just don't care
Maybe we'll go to a better place
And the minstrel show'll be there

@music
recorded by Bob Coltman and by Ed Trickett on Telling
Copyright Bob Coltman
filename[ MINSTSHO
play.exe MINSTSHO
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BEGGAR LADDIE

It was in the pleasant month of June
When gentle ladies walk their lane,
When woods and valleys a' grow green
And the sun it shines sae clearly.

Doon in yon grove I spied a swain,
He'd a shepherd's sheep-club in his hand,
He was drivin'yowes oot ower the knowes,
And he was a weel-faured laddie.

"Come tell to me whit is your trade,
Or by whit airt you win your breid,
Or by whit airt you win your breid
When herdin' ye give over?"

"Makin'spindles is my trade,
And findin' sticks in time o'need,
For l'm a beggar to my trade;
Noo, lassie could ye love me?"

"l could love ye as many fold
As Jacob loved Rachel of old,
As Jesse loved his cups of gold,
My laddie, if ye'll believe me?"

"Then ye'll tak' aff your robes o'reid,
And ye'll pit on the beggin'weed,
And ye'll follow hard by at my back
And ye'll be the beggar's dawtie."

And when they cam' to yonder toon
They bocht a loaf and they baith sat doon,
They bocht a loaf and they baith sat doon,
And the lassie ate wi' her laddie.

But the lassie's courage began to fail,
And her rosie cheeks grew wan and pale
And the tears cam' trinklin'doon like hail
Or a heavy shower in summer.

"O gin I were on yonder hill
Where my faitoer's flocks do feed their fill,
I would sit me doon and greet a while
For the followin' o' my laddie.

When they cam' to yon marble gate,
Sae boldly as he knocked thereat,
He rappit loud and he rappit late,
And he rappit there sae rudely.

Then four-and-twenty gentlemen
Cam' oot to welcome the beggar hame,
And just as mony ladies gay,
To welcome the young knicht's lady.

His brither John stood next the wa',
He laughed till he was like to fa':
"O brither, I wish we had beggit a'
For sic a bonnie lassie."

"Yestreen I was the beggar's bride,
This nicht I'll lay doon by his side,
l've come to gweed by my misguide,
For noo l'm the young knicht's lady."

From Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland, MacColl
Child #200
@beg
filename[ BGGARLAD
play.exe BGGARLAD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BEGGAR MAN

A beggar man came o'er yon lea
Wi' many good e'ens and good days to me
Saying, "Goodwife, for your charity
Will you lodge a beggar man?
     Lassie to my too row ray.

The night was cold, the carl was wet
And down ayont the ingle he sat
The daughter's shoulders he 'gan to clap
And cadgily ranted and sang.

And "O," quoth he, "If you were as black
As e'er the crown of my daddy's hat
Tis I would lay ye by my back
And away with me thou should gang."

And "O," quoth she,"If I were as white
As e'er the snow lay on the dyke,
I'd clothe me braw and ladylike
And away with thee I'd gang."

"O lassie, O lassie, you're far too young
And you haven't the cant of the begging tongue
You haven't the cant of the begging tongue
And with me you canna gang."

"I'll bow my back and crook my knee
And draw a black clout on my eye
And for a beggar they'll take me
And we shall be merry nd sing."

Between the two they made a plot
To rise an hour before the cock.
And wilily they slipped the lock
And through the fields they ran.

Up in the morn the old wife rose
And leisurely put on her clothes
Then to the servant's bed she goes
To speer for the silly poor man.

She went to the bed where the beggar lay
The straw was cold and he was away
She clapped her hands crying, "Well-a-day
For some of our gear'll be gone."

Some ran to the coffers and some to the kists
But nought was stolen that could be missed,
She danced her lane, cryin', "Praise be blessed
I've lodged an honest man!"

Since nothing's away that we can learn,
The kye are to milk and the milk's to churn
Go but the house, lass, and waken the bairn
And bid her come quickly ben.

The servant went where the daughter lay
The sheets were cold and she waqs away
And fast to the good wife she did say
She's away with the beggar man.

Some rode on horse, some ran on foot
The wife was wood and out of her wit
She could not gang, nor yet could she sit
And aye she cursed and she banned.

When years had passed, some two or three
The same old beggar came o'er the lea
Says, "Goodwife, for your charity
Will you lodge a beggar man?

"A beggar I'll ne'er lodge again
For I never had a daughter but ane
And away with a beggar she has gane
And I canna tell where nor when."

"O yonder she's comin' o'er yon lea
With many a fine tale to tell to thee
And she's got a baby on her knee
And another one in her wame.

Note: clap=caress; speer=inquire; kist=chest; wood=mad; ban=swear
Child #279
See also BEGGR1, BEGGR2, BEGGR3, BEGGRDHU
From Seeds of Love, Sedley
@beg     @seduction
filename[ BEGGR4
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BEGGAR MAN

A beggar man came o'er yon lea, seeking oot for charity
Goodwife for your courtesy, would you lodge a lame poor man
Well the nicht being wet and it being cold
  she's taken pity on the poor old soul
She's ta'en pity on the poor old soul, and she bad him to sit doon

     Wi his tooren ooran an tan ee
     Right an ooren fal de do dee
     Right an ooren ooren ee
     Wi an tooren ooren ay do

He sat himself in the chimney nook, wi al his bags behind a crook
Wi all his bags behind a crook, right merrily he did sing

A the doors being locked quite tight
  the auld woman rose in the middle of the night
The auld women rose in the middle of the nicht to find the old man gone
She ran tae the cupboard, likewise tae the kist
  All thing there and nothing missed
Clapping her hands and, the Lord be blessed
  Wasn't he an honest auld man

When the breakfast was ready and the table laid
  The auld woman gaed tae waken the maid
The bed was there but the maid was gone
  She's awa wi the lame poor man

Seven years they passed on, an this auld beggar came back again
Seeking oot for charity, would you lodge a lame poor man
A beggar I'll ne'er lodge again,
  for I had a dochter, ane o ma aine
An she gaed awa wi a beggar man
  So I'll hae ye tae be gone

If yer dochter ye want tae see
  she has twa bairnies on her knee
She has twa bairnies on her knee and another yin comin round
Yonder she sits and yonder she stands
  the fairest lady in a Scotland
Wi servants there at her command
  Since she gaed wi the lame poor man

Child #279
sung by Cila Fisher and Artie Tresize
@beg
filename[ BEGGAR2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BEGGARMAN

There once was a man, and for beggin' he was bound
   To my Right Fol the lol and me dandy, O
He rapped upon a door about a mile outside of town
   To my toora loora loora loora dandy, O.

The lady she got up for to bar up the door,
The beggarman he grabbed her and he rolled her on the floor.

The lady she got up about an hour before the day
For to try and catch the beggarman before he got away.

"Oh beggarman, oh beggarman, oh what might be your name?"
"So that when my baby's born I can call him the same."

"Oh, when your baby's born, you can dandle it on your knee"
"You can call it Davy Jones, or the Duke of Aberdeen."
"But if you were a right girl as I took ye for to be,"
"You'd be sitting in your carriage, riding down the road wi' me."

Sung by Dyer Bennet
Child #279
@beg
filename[ BEGGAR3
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BEGGARMAN'S SONG (JOHNNY DHU)

I am a little beggarman, a begging I have been
For three score years in this little isle of green
I'm known along the Liffey from the Basin to the Zoo
And everybody calls me by the name of Johnny Dhu

     Of all the trades a going, sure the begging is the best
     For when a man is tired he can sit him down and rest
     He can beg for his dinner, he has nothing else to do
     But to slip around the corner with his old rigadoo

I slept in a barn one night in Currabawn
A shocking wet night it was, but I slept until the dawn
There was holes in the roof and the raindrops coming thru
And the rats and the cats were a playing peek a boo

Who did I waken but the woman of the house
With her white spotted apron and her calico blouse
She began to frighten and I said boo
Sure, don't be afraid at all, it's only Johnny Dhu

I met a little girl while a walkin out one day
Good morrow little flaxen haired girl, I did say
Good morrow little beggarman and how do you do
With your rags and your tags and your auld rigadoo

I'll buy a pair of leggins and a collar and a tie
And a nice young lady I'll go courting by and by
I'll buy a pair of goggles and I'll color them with blue
And an old fashioned lady I will make her too

So all along the high road with my bag upon my back
Over the fields with my bulging heavy sack
With holes in my shoes and my toes a peeping thru
Singing, skin a ma rink a doodle with my auld rigadoo

O I must be going to bed for it's getting late at night
The fire is all raked and now tis out of light
For now you've heard the story of my auld rigadoo
So good and God be with you, from auld Johnny Dhu

@beg     @Irish
Child #279
filename[ BEGGARDH
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SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEGGARS OF COUDINGHAM FAIR

The first time that I gaed to Coudingham fair,
I there fell in with a jolly beggare;
The beggar's name, O, it was Harry,
And he had a wife, and they ca'd her Mary;
   O Mary and Harry, and Harry and Mary,
   And Janet and John;
   That's the beggars one by one;
   But now I will gie you them pair by pair,
   All the brave beggars of Coudingham fair.

The next time that I gaed to Coudingham fair,
I there fell in with another beggare;
The beggar's name, O, it was Willie,
And he had a wife, and they ca'd her Lillie;
   And Harry and Mary, and Willie and Lillie,
   And Janet and John,
   That's the beggars one by one;
   Now I will gie you them pair by pair,
   All the brave beggars of Coudingham fair.

The next time that I gaed to Coudingham fair,
I fell in with another beggare;
The beggar's name, O, it was Wilkin,
And he had a wife, and they ca'd her Gilkin;
   And Harry and Mary, and Willie and Lillie,
   And Wilkin and Gilkin, and Janet and John;
   That's the beggars all one by one;
   Now I will gie you them pair by pair,
   All the brave beggars of Coudingham fair.
________________________________________________________

Chambers PRS (1847), 197; (1870), 40, from Tait's
Magazine, x.121; Montgomerie SNR (1946), 113 (No. 142).
Cf. Dean-Smith, s.v. Donnybrook: refs. to FSJ 1941, 77-
8; pt. 33, 132-4.

@Scots @beg
filename[ COUDFAIR
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEGGARS TO GOD
(Bob Franke)

The song of Gypsy Davy rang
Delighted through the night
The wise and foolish virgin
Kept her candles burning bright
Rise up my young and foolish one
And follow if you can,
There'll be no need for candles
In the arms of such a man.

   Make love to each other
   Be free with each other
   Be prisoners of love 'til you lie in the sod
   Be friends to each other
   Forgive one another
   See God in each other
   Be beggars to God.

The night was cold and dark and wet
As they wandered on alone.
The sky became their canopy
The earth became their throne
And as their raiment ran to rags
They thought it nothing wrong
For earth and sky are robe enough
When you sing the gypsie's song.

They sang and played the gypsy song
Wherever they were sent
To some it seemed a dancing tune
To some a sad lament.
But in every heart that heard them true
A tear became a smile
And the pauper or a prince
Became the gypsy for awhile.

Copyright (C) 1983 Telephone Pole Music Publishing Co. (BMI) used by
     permission.
Recorded by Sally Rogers on "Satisfied Customers" in 1984; by Bob Franke
     on "For Real" 1986 (Flying Fish Records)

@beg
filename[ BEGGRGOD
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEGGING SONG
(new lyrics by Martin Carthy/Dave Swarbrick)

Of all the trades in England the beggin' is the best
For when a beggar's tired, he can lay him down and rest

        And a-beggin' I will go-o-o
        And a-beggin' I will go

I got on the train in Carlisle they kicked me out in Crewe
I slept on every paving-stone from there to Waterloo

I got breakfast off the Embankment I got my lunch and tea
And only the finest cardboard made a home that was fit for me

We sit on the stair at Leicester Square from 7 o'clock till ten
Then round the back of the Connaught House for dinner from out of a bin

I can ....
You men, it is tough to be a king when beggars live so well

The law came down to see us, they came down three together
They put out the fire, they left us there. Oh, Lord, how we did shiver

I am a Victorian value, I'm enterprised poverty
Completely invisible to the state and a joy to Mrs T

Of all the trades in England the beggin' is the best
For when a beggar's tired, he can lay him down and rest

-----------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Carthy/Swarbrick on "Life And Limb" (1990)

This is a rewrite of "A-Beggin' I Will Go"  ABEGGIN, sharing the tune,
chorus and first verse with the older version. Sorry, but I can't get
the fifth verse.

Martin notes: "The Begging Song is a reworking of something which has
been around in various forms for three or four hundred years, a version
of which I learned in the sixties from Ewan MacColl (and so did a few
others). Not that the old song is a failure, more that the
re-appearance of beggars on our streets as a matter of course warrants,
I think, a more present response from the rest of us."

Copyright Topic Records/Island Music
@beg @bum @political @English
filename[ ABEGGIN2
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MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BELL BOTTOM TROUSERS

cho: Singing bell bottom trousers,
     Coat of navy-blue.
     Let him climb the rigging
     Like his daddy used to do.

Once there was a waitress
In the Prince George Hotel,
Her mistress was a lady
And her master was a swell,

They knew she was a simple girl
And lately from the farm.
And so they watched her carefully
To keep her from all harm

The Forty Second Fusiliers
Came marching into town.
And with them came a complement
Of rapists of reknown.

They busted every maidenhead
That came within their spell.
But they never made the waitress
From the Prince George Hotel

Next came a company
Of the Prince of Wales' Hussars
They piled into the whore house
And they packed along the bars.

Many a maid and mistress
And wife before them fell.
But they never made the waitress
From the Prince George Hotel.

One day there came a sailor.
Just an ordinary bloke.
A bulging at the trousers.
With a heart of solid oak.

At sea without a woman
For seven years or more.
There wasn't any need to ask
What he was looking for.

He asked her for a candlestick
To light his way to bed.
He asked her for a pillow
To rest his weary head.

And speaking to her gently.
Just as if he meant no harm.
He asked her if she'd come to bed
Just so's to keep him warm

She lifted up the blanket
And a moment there did lie.
He was on her. He was in her
In the twinkling of an eye.

He was out again. and in again.
And plowing up a storm.
And the only words she said to him:
"I hope you're keeping warm."

Then early in the morning
The sailor he arose
Saying here's a two pound note.
My dear, for the damage I have done

If you have a daughter.
Bounce her on your knee.
If you have a son.
Send the bastard out to sea.

From Bawdy Sea Songs, Oscar Brand
Note: An update on Home, Dearie, Home
@bawdy @sailor @seduction
filename[ BELLBTTM
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JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BELLE STARR
(Woody Guthrie)

Belle Starr, Belle Starr, tell me where you have gone
Since old Oklahoma's sand hills you did roam?
Is it Heaven's wide streets that you're tying the reins
Or single footing somewheres below

Eight lovers they say combed your waving black hair
Eight men knew the feel of your dark velvet waist
Eight men heard the sounds of your tan leather skirt
Eight men heard the bark of the guns that you wore

Cole Younger was your first and the father of your girl
And the name that you picked for your daughter was Pearl
Cole robbed a bank and he drawed the life line
But I heard he was pardoned after twenty years time

Your Cherokee love, Blue Duck was his name
He loved you in the sand hill before your great fame
I heard he stopped a bullet in 1885
And your Blue Duck's no longer alive

You took Jim Reed to your warm wedded bed
And from out of your love was born the boy, Ed
A pal killed Jim Reed by the dark of the moon
And your son Ed was blowed down in a drunken saloon

Then there was Bob Younger, you loved him well
He rode with the James boys out down the long trail
They caught him in Minnesota along with the gang
He died down in jail in the cell or the chain

You loved Mr. William Clarke Quantrill
And his Civil War guerrillas in the Missouri hills
He hit Lawrence Kansas and fought them still
And when he rode out, two hundred lay killed

They say could have, they whispered you might
Have loved Frank James on a couple of nights
He fought the Midland Railroad almost to death
Then in 1915 Frank drawed his last breath

They say it could be, they say maybe so
That you loved Jesse James, that desperado
Jesse got married, had a wife and a son
Was shot down at home by the Ford brothers' guns

Belle Starr, Belle Starr, your time's getting late
But how is Jim Younger, did you hear his fate?
He was jailed and then pardoned for all he had done
And he blowed his own brains out in nineteen and one


Eight lovers they say combed your waving black hair
Eight men knew the feel of your dark velvet waist
Eight men heard the sounds of your tan leather skirt
Eight men heard the bark of the guns that you wore
Belle Starr, Belle Starr, tell me where you have gone
Since old Oklahoma's sand hills you did roam?
Is it Heaven's wide streets that you're tying the reins
Or single footing somewheres below

Tune by Pete Seeger and Jack Elliot
Copyright Sing Out
@outlaw @west @America
filename[ BELLSTAR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BELLS OF ABERDOVEY

If to me you can be true,             Ohs oit tee un beer ee me,

Just as true as I to you,             Vel-roiv-vee un beer ee tee,

It's one two three four five and six  Mahl een die tree ped-war pimp chwech,   ,

Sing the bells of Aberdovey.          Meth-i cloch-i Ab-er-du-vee.

 One two three four five and six,       Een die tree pedwar pimp cwech saith

 It's one two three four five and six,  Mahl een die tree ped-war pimp, chwech,

 Sing the bells of Aberdovey.           Meth-i cloch-i Ab-er-du-vee

Boys do love to be in love,           Huff gan vab you may thee sairch,

And girls do love to marry.           Uh vairch my ahm bree-od-ee,

But  my love's for only one,          Huff-gan in eye um hob man,

For Bess of Aberdovey.                On mor-veeth Ab-er-du-vee.

If your love is just as true,           Ohs oit teen vung har-ee-ee,

As this love I have for you,            Vel roiv veen duh gar- ee-ee,

It's one two three four five and six    Mahl een, die tree ped-war pimp chwech,,

From the bells of Aberdovey.            Meth-i cloch-i Ab-er-du-vee.





Bold with love I'm back once more,    Pan thove ad-rev tros uh more,
Just to camp against your door.       Cahr-yod gee-ra orth duh thor,
It's one two three four five and six  Mahl een die tree ped-war pimp chwech,   ,

Sing the bells of Aberdovey.          Meth-i cloch-i Ab-er-du-vee.

 One two three four five and six,       Een die tree pedwar pimp cwech saith

 It's one two three four five and si,   Mahl een die tree ped-war pimp, chwech,x

 Sing the bells of Aberdovey.           Meth-i cloch-i Ab-er-du-vee

Here's an end to all faint hearts,    Pide i oo-nade un gol-on wahn
Till truth it is you're pleading.     Pan thou o dan-der vah-ner,
If you just meet me half way          Ohs beeth gen it ire you thwoyd
It will be all I'm needing.           Beeth goon-oy dun well or han-ner.
If your love is half as true            Ohs oit teen vun har-ee-ee,
As this love I have for you             Vel roiv veen duh gar-ee-dee
It's one two three four five and six    Mahl een, die tree ped-war pimp chwech,,

From the bells of Aberdovey.            Meth-i cloch-i Ab-er-du-vee.
Recorded by John Charles Thomas, many others
Translation by Peter John Stephens.
From Cole, Folksongs of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales
@Welsh @love
filename[ BELLABER
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BELLS OF HELL

The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you and not for me;
For me the angels sing-a-ling-a-ling
Death has no threats for me.

Oh death where is thy sting-a-ling-a-ling
Oh grave, thy victory?
The bells of hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
For you and not for me.

@WWI @airplane @war
filename[ BELLHELL
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BELLS OF RHYMNEY

Oh what will you give me
Say the sad bells of Rhymney
Is there hope for the future
Cry the brown bells of Merthyr
Who made the mine owner
Say the black bells of Rhondda
And who robbed the miner
Cry the grim bells of Blaina

They will plunder willy-nilly
Cry the bells of Caerphilly
They have fangs, they have teeth
Say the loud bells of Neathe
Even God is uneasy
Say the moist bells of Swansea
They will plunder willy-nilly
Say the bells of Caerphilly
Put the vandals in court
Say the bells of Newport
All would be well if, if, if
Cry the green bells of Cardiff
Why so worried, sisters, why
Sang the silver bells of Wye
And what will you give me
Say the sad bells of Rhymney

@Welsh
recorded by Ian Campbell Folk Group
filename[ BELLRHYM
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SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BENJAMIN BOWMANEER

Do you know how the wars began, Benjamin Bowmaneer?
Do you know how the wars began, Castors away?
Do you know how the wars began, when England fought to a man,
And the proud tailor rode prancing away?

Of his shear board he made a horse, Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his shear board he made a horse, castors away
Of his shear board he made a horse, All for him to ride across.
And the proud tailor rode prancing away

Of his scissors he made bridle bits, Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his scissors he made bridle bits, castors away
Of his scissors he made bridle bits, to keep his horse all in his wits
And the proud tailor rode prancing away

And as he rode o'er the lea, Benjamin Bowmaneer
And as he rode o'er the lea, castors away
And as he rode o'er the lea, he spied a flea all on his knee
And the proud tailor rode prancing away

Of his needle he made a spear, Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his needle he made a spear, castors away
Of his needle he made a spear, and pierced the flea all in his ear
And the proud tailor rode prancing away

Of his thimble he made a bell, Benjamin Bowmaneer
Of his thimble he made a bell, castors away
Of his thimble he made a bell, and tolled the flea's funeral knell
And the proud tailor rode prancing away

And that's how the wars began, Benjamin Bowmaneer
And that's how the wars began, castors away
And that's how the wars began, when England fought to a man
And the proud tailor rode prancing away

from the New Golden Ring, Five Days Singing, Vol. I FSI-42
Joe Hickerson got from the Penguin book of English Folk Songs
@war
filename[ BENBOWMR
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DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BENJIE MET THE BEAR

Benjie met the bear, the bear met Benjie.
The bear was bulgy, the bulge was Benjie.

----------------------------------------------------------------

Sung as a two part round.

Based on the poem "Angie Met the Bear"

     The grizzly bear is fierce and wild
     It has devoured the infant child
     The infant child is not aware
     It has been eaten by the grizzly bear

(Note: I don't know this poem; it is virtually the same as
Hillaire Belloc's:

Children, behold the monster wild
Has gobbled up the Infant Child!
The Infant Child is not aware
It has been swallowed by a Bear.
                              RG
@round @animal @kids
filename[ BENJIBR
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BENNY HAVENS, OH

Come, fill your glasses, fellows, and stand up in a row,
To singing sentimentally we're going for to go;
In the army there's sobriety, promotion's very slow,
So we'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens', oh!

cho: Oh! Benny Havens', oh!  Oh!  Benny Havens', oh!
     We'll sing our reminiscences of Benny Havens', oh!

Let us toast our foster-father, the Republic, as you know,
Who in the paths of science taught us upward for to go;
And the maidens of our native land, whose cheeks like roses glow
They're oft remembered in our cups at Benny Havens', oh!

To the ladies of our Army our cups shall ever flow,
Companions in our exile and our shield' gainst every woe;
May they see their husbands generals, with double pay also,
And join us in our choruses at Benny Havens', oh!
Come fill up to our generals, God bless the brave heroes.
They're an honor to their country, and a terror to their foes;
May they long rest on their laurels, and troubles never know
But live to see a thousand years at Benny Havens', oh!

To our kind old Alma Mater, our rock-bound Highland home,
We'll cast back many a fond regret as o'er life's sea we roam;
Until on our last battlefield the lights of heav'n shall glow,
We'll never fail to drink to her and Benny Havens', oh.

May the Army be augmented, promotion be less slow,
May our country in the hour of need be ready for the foe;
May we find a soldier's resting-place beneath a soldier's blow
With room enough beside our graves for Benny Havens', oh!

And if amid the battle shock our honor e'er should trail,
And hearts that beat beneath its folds should turn or basely quail
Then may some son of Benny's, with quick avenging blow,
Lift up the flag we loved so well at Benny Havens', oh!
To our comrades who have fallen, one cup before we go,
They poured their life-blood freely out pro bono publico.
No marble points the stranger to where they rest below;
They lie neglected far away from Benny Havens', oh!

When you and I and Benny, and all the others, too,
Are called before the "final board" our course in life to view,
May we never "fess" on any point, but straight be told to go
And join the army of the blest at Benny Havens', oh!

@army
filename[ BENHAVEN
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BESOM MAKER

I am a besom maker, come listen to my tale,
I am a besom maker, I live in yonder vale;
Sweet pleasure I enjoy, both morning, night and noon,
Going over the hills so high a-gathering of green broom.

cho: O, come buy my besoms
     Besoms fine and new,
     Bonny green broom besoms
     Better never grew.

One day as I was roving, over the hills so high,
I met with a rakish squire, all with a rolling eye;
He tipp'd to me the wink, I wrote to him the tune,
I eased him of his gink, a-gathering of green broom.

One day as I was turning all to my native vale,
I met Jack Sprat the miller, he asked me to turn tail;
His mill I rattled round, I ground the grists so clean,
I eased him of his gink, a-gathering broom so green.

One day I was returning all to my native cot,
I met a buxom farmer, so happy was his lot;
He ploughed his furrows deep and laid his corn so low,
He left it there to keep, just like green brooms to grow.

Now when the corn grew up, all in its native soil
A pretty sweet young baby soon on me did smile
I'mm bundle up my besoms and take them to the fair
And sell them all by wholesale, nursing's now my care.

From My Song is My Own, Henderson
@bawdy @work
filename[ BESOMMKR
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BESSY AND HER SPINNING WHEEL

0, leeze me on my spinnin-wheel!
And leeze me on my rock and reel,
Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien,
And haps me fiel and warm at e'en!
I'll set me down, and sing and spin,
While laigh descends the summer sun,
Blest wi content, and milk and meal-
0, leeze me on my spinnin-wheel
On ilka hand the burnies trot,
And meet below my theekit cot.
The scented birk and hawthorn white
Across the pool their arms unite,
Alike to screen the birdie's nest
And little fishes'caller rest.
The sun blinks kindly in the biel,
Where blythe I turn my spinnin-wheel.
On lofty aiks the cushats wail,
And Echo cons the doolfu tale.
The lintwhites in the hazel braes,
Delighted, rival ither's lays.
The craik amang the claver hay,
The paitrick whirrin o'er the ley,
The swallow jinkin round my shiel,
Amuse me at my spinnin-wheel.
Wi sma'to sell and less to buy,
Aboon distress, below envy,
0 wha wad leave this humble state
For a'the pride of a'the great?
Amid their flaring, idle toys,
Amid their cumbrous, dinsome Joys,
Can they the peace and pleasure feel
Of Bessy at her spinnin-wheel?

@Scots
filename[ BESSYSPN
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY

O, Bessy Bell and Mary Gray
They were twa bonny lasses,
They bigg'd a bower on yon Burn-brae
And theek'd it o'er wi' rashes.
     Fair Bessy Bell I lov'd yestreen
     And thought I ne'er cou'd alter
     But Mary Gray's twa pawky een
     They gar my fancy falter.

From Orpheus Caledonius
Note: The ladies in this version seem to have escaped the plague.
     RG
Child #201
@love @infidelity
filename[ BESSBEL3
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play.exe BESSBELL.2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY

O Bessie Bell and Mary Gray,
They war twa bonnie lasses;
They bigget a bower on yon burn brae,
And theekit it o'er wi' rashes.
They theekit it o'er w rashes green,
They theekit it o'er w heather;
But the pest cam frae the burrows-town,
And slew them baith thegither.

They thought to lye in Methven kirk yard,
Amang their noble kin;
But they maun lye in Stronach haugh,
To biek forenent the sin.
And Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
Tney war twa bonnie lasses;
Tney bigget a bower on yon burn brae,
And theekit it o'er wi' rashes.

Recorded by Martin Carthy on Shearwater; Steeleye Span on Tempted and Tried
Child #201
@Scots @illness
filename[ BESSBELL
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play.exe BESSBELL.2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BESSY BELL AND MARY GRAY 2

     Bessy Bell an Mary Gray,
     They were twa bonny lasses;
     They built their hoose upon the ley,
     An covered it wi rashes.

     Bessy kept the gairden gate,
     An Mary kept the pantry;
     Bessy Bell had aye tae wait,
     While Mary leeved in plenty.
     ________________________________________________________

     Montgomerie SNR (1946), 113 (no. 141).  2nd stanza in
     Rymour Club Misc. I (1906-11), 124, "as a rhyme sung by
     the children at Cummertrees": "O, Bessie kept the garden
     gate,/ And Mary kept the pantry;/ Bessie had all day to
     wait,/ While Mary lived in plenty."
See ODNR 71: refs. to The Cheerful Warbler (J. Kendrew), c.
1820, first verse only, with "They built their house with
walls of clay"; Halliwell 1842 [p. 36, LVI, evidently first
printing of the complete rhyme].  With music in Moffat TSNR
(1933), 3, var. (anglicisation) "Poor Bessie always had to
wait".
Of the adult song there are two versions: (A) is anon., in
MCA (1874), 20.  2 v. of 8 lines.  Line 5, "They theekit it
o'er wi' rashes green".  Note says "According to tradition,
Bessy Bell and Mary Gray were two young ladies of Perthshire,
who, at the time of the plague (in 1645) retired for safety
to some cottage or `bower', about a mile from Lynedoch House,
Mary Gray's home.  A youth, who was much attached to them,
supplied them with food from Perth, but at last brought the
infection, and they both died; according to custom, they were
buried in a lonely spot, instead of with `their noble kin'."
First printed by C.K. Sharpe as "The Twa Lasses" (Ballad
Book, 1824).  Chambers (SSPB 321) gives a version of the last
4 lines.  Ford Harp of Perthshire (1893) 46; idem., Song
Histories 145 (4x4 lines).  (B) is by Ramsay, 1720, utilising
the first old stanza and continuing with a modern love tale;
Herd 1776, I.199 (1.5: "Fair Bessy Bell I loo'd yestreen"),
SMM II no. 128, with tune; SSPB (+ music) 319, Ford Song
Histories 147, Greig SM III.288 (+ m).
Other words to air include "Mary's Twa Lovers" (Lochore) and
other songs by Robert Nicoll, John Leyden, Ebenezer Elliot,
James Duff.
The tune is in Orpheus Caledonius, 1725 (1733, I.3); adopted
by Gay for "A curse attends that woman's love" in The
Beggar's Opera; it appears first in Playford, Original Scots
Tunes (1700) as Bessy Bell.  What seems an accompaniment is
in the Guthrie tablature MS., with the same title.  Air also
in Stewart's Musick, c. 1725. The air is used in Mitchell's
Highland Fair (1731), 45 (XXVIII).  See SNQ VII.7 (Dec.
1893), 109-111.
Gomme (II, 1898, 452), has "Rashes", a Derbyshire game, "a
relic of the old custom of rush-bearing", using the first 4
lines:

     [In the warm days of May and June the village children
     gather the finest and best rushes, which are brought
     with ceremony to some favourite spot and woven into
     baskets, parasols, etc.]  Small arbours are made of
     green bushes and strewn with rushes, inside which the
     children sit and play at "keeping house" with much
     lordly ceremony.  At these times they play at a game
     which consists in joining hands in a circle, and going
     round a heap of rushes singing or saying--

          Mary Green and Bessy Bell,
            They were two bonny lasses;
          They built a house in yonder hill,
            And covered it with rashes.
               Rashes, rashes, rashes!

     [At each repetition of "rashes" they loosen hands, pick
     up a lot of rushes, and throw them into the air to fall
     on everyone.] --From Thomas Radcliffe, in Long Ago, I.49
     (1873).
Child #201
@illness @Scots @playparty
filename[ BESSBEL2
play.exe BESSBELL
play.exe BESSBEL.2
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A BETTER PLACE TO BE
(Harry Chapin)

It was an early morning barroom
And the place had just opened up
And a little man came in so fast
And he started at his cups
And the broad who served the whiskey
She was a big old friendly girl
Who tried to fight her empty nights
By smiling at the world

And she said, "Hey, bub, it's been a while
Since you've been around
Where the hell have you been hiding
And why d'you look so down?"

Well, the little man just sat there
Like he'd never heard a sound.
The waitress, she gave out with a cough
And acting not the least put off,
She spoke once again, and she said,

"I don't want to bother you
Consider it's understood;
I know I'm not no beauty queen
But I sure can listen good."

And the little man took his drink in his hand
And he raised it to his lips.
He took a couple of sips,
And then he told the waitress this story:

I am the midnight watchman
Down at Miller's Tool and Die
I watch the metal rusting
I watch the time go by
A week ago at the diner
I stopped to get a bite
And this here lovely lady,
She sat two seats from my right
And Lord, Lord, Lord
She was alright.

You see, she was so damn beautiful
That she could warm a winter frost
But she looked long past lonely
And well nigh on to lost
Now, I'm not much of a mover
Or a pick-em-up-easy guy
But I decided to glide on over
And give her one good try
And Lord, Lord, Lord
She was worth a try.

Well, I was tounge-tied like a schoolboy
I stammered out some words
It did not seem to matter much,
Cause I don't think she heard
She just looked clear on through me
To a space back in my head
It shamed me into silence
As quietly she said

"If you want me to come with you,
Then that's alright with me
Cause I know I'm going nowhere
And anywhere's a better place to be"
Anywhere's a better place to be

Well, I drove her to my boarding house
And I took her up to my room
And I went to turn on the only light
To brighten up the gloom
But she said, "Please leave the light off -
Oh, I don't mind the dark"
And as her clothes all tumbled 'round her
I could hear my heart

Well, the moonlight shone upon her
As she lay back in my bed
It was the kind of scene I only
Had imagined in my head
I just could not believe it
To think that she was real
And as I tried to tell her, she said
"Shhhh - I know just how you feel -
And if you want to come here with me,
Then that's alright with me
Cause I've been oh, so lonely;
Lovin' someone is a better way to be
Anywhere's a better place to be

Well, the morning came so swiftly
I held her in my arms
And she slept like a baby
Snug and safe from harm
I did not want to share her
Or dare to break the mood
So before she woke, I went out
To buy us both some food.

I came back with my paper bag
To find that she was gone
She'd left a six-word letter
Saying "It's time that I moved on."

You know, the waitress, she took her bar rag
And she wiped it across her eyes
And as she spoke, her voice came out
As something like a sigh
She said, "I wish that I was beautiful
Or that you were halfway blind
And I wish I weren't so goddamn fat -
I wish that you were mine
And I wish that you'd come with me
When I leave for home
For we both know all about emptiness
And living all alone"

And the little man
Looked at the empty glass in his hand
And he smiled a crooked grin
He said, "I guess I'm out of gin -
And I know we both have been so lonely
And if you want me to come with you,
Then that's alright with me
Cause I know I'm going nowhere
And anywhere's a better place to be

Copyright Harry Chapin
filename[ BTTRPLAC
CC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A BETTER PLACE TO BE
(Harry Chapin)

It was an early morning barroom
and the place had just opened up
and a little man came in so fast
and he started at his cups
and the broad who served the whiskey
she was a big old friendly girl
who tried to fight her empty nights
by smiling at the world

And she said, "Hey, bub, it's been a while
since you've been around
Where the hell have you been hiding
and why d'you look so down?"

Well, the little man just sat there
like he'd never heard a sound.
The waitress, she gave out with a cough
and acting not the least put off,
she spoke once again, and she said,

"I don't want to bother you
consider it's understood;
I know I'm not no beauty queen
but I sure can listen good."

And the little man took his drink in his hand
and he raised it to his lips.
He took a couple of sips,
and then he told the waitress this story:

I am the midnight watchman
down at Miller's Tool and Die
I watch the metal rusting
I watch the time go by
A week ago at the diner
I stopped to get a bite
and this here lovely lady,
she sat two seats from my right
and Lord, Lord, Lord
she was alright.

You see, she was so damn beautiful
that she could warm a winter frost
but she looked long past lonely
--MORE--(48%)

and well nigh on to lost
Now, I'm not much of a mover
or a pick-em-up-easy guy
but I decided to glide on over
and give her one good try
and Lord, Lord, Lord
she was worth a try.

Well, I was tounge-tied like a schoolboy
I stammered out some words
It did not seem to matter much,
cause I don't think she heard
She just looked clear on through me
to a space back in my head
It shamed me into silence
as quietly she said

"If you want me to come with you,
then that's alright with me
cause I know I'm going nowhere
and anywhere's a better place to be"

Anywhere's a better place to be
Well, I drove her to my boarding house
and I took her up to my room
and I went to turn on the only light
to brighten up the gloom
but she said, "Please leave the light off -
oh, I don't mind the dark"
and as her clothes all tumbled 'round her
I could hear my heart

Well, the moonlight shone upon her
as she lay back in my bed
It was the kind of scene I only
had imagined in my head
I just could not believe it
to think that she was real
and as I tried to tell her, she said
"Shhhh - I know just how you feel -

and if you want to come here with me,
then that's alright with me
cause I've been oh, so lonely;
lovin' someone is a better way to be
Anywhere's a better place to be

Well, the morning came so swiftly
I held her in my arms
and she slept like a baby
snug and safe from harm
I did not want to share her
or dare to break the mood
so before she woke, I went out
to buy us both some food.

I came back with my paper bag
to find that she was gone
She'd left a six-word letter
saying "It's time that I moved on."

You know, the waitress, she took her bar rag
and she wiped it across her eyes
and as she spoke, her voice came out
as something like a sigh
She said, "I wish that I was beautiful
or that you were halfway blind
and I wish I weren't so goddamn fat -
I wish that you were mine
and I wish that you'd come with me
when I leave for home
for we both know all about emptiness
and living all alone"

And the little man
looked at the empty glass in his hand
and he smiled a crooked grin
He said, "I guess I'm out of gin -
and I know we both have been so lonely
and if you want me to come with you,
then that's alright with me
cause I know I'm going nowhere
and anywhere's a better place to be

Copyright Harry Chapin
filename[ BTTRPLCE
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BETTY AND DUPREE

Betty told Dupree, "I want a diamond ring." (2x)
Dupree told Betty, "l'Il give you most anything."

He said, "Lie down, little Betty, see what tomorrow brings," (2x)
It may bring sunshine, may bring you that diamond ring."

Then he got his pistol, went to the jewelry store,(2x)
Killed a policeman and he wounded four or five more.

Then he went to the post office to get the evening mail (2x)
Sheriff caught poor Dupree and put him in that old Atlanta jail.

Dupree's mother said to Betty, "Looka' here what you done done."(2x)
"Made my boy rob and steal, now he is gonna be hung"

Betty went to the jailhouse, she could not see Dupree (2x)
She told the jailer, "Tell him these words for me."

"I come to see you, baby, I could not see your face." (2x)
"You know I love you, but I cannot take your place."

Sail on,  sail on, sail on, Dupree, sail on. (2x)
You don't mind sailing,  you'll be gone so doggone long.

Recorded by Brownie McGhee, also Ian and Sylvia
@blues @crime   @jail   @love
filename[ BTTYDPRE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEWARE O BONIE ANN
(Robert Burns)

Ye gallants bright, I red you right,
  Beware o' bonie Ann!
Her comely face sae fu' o grace,
   Your heart she will trepan:
Her een sae bright, like stars by night,
   Her skin is like the swan;
Sae jimply lac'd, her genty waist,
   That sweetly ye might span.
Youth, Grace, and Love attendant move,
   And Pleasure leads the van:
In a' their charms, and conquering arms,
  They wait on bonie Ann.
The captive bands may chain the hands
   But Love enslaves the man:
Ye gallants braw, I red you a',
  Beware o bonie Ann.

tune:Beware o' bonie Ann (288)
@Scots @love
filename[BONIEANN
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ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BEWARE, OH TAKE CARE
(Blind Alfred Blake)

They say young men are bold and free
     Beware, Oh take care.
They'll tell you they're friends, but they're false, you see
     Beware, Oh take care.

cho: Beware, young ladies, they're fooling you,
     Trust them not, they're fooling you!
     Beware, young ladies, they're fooling you,
     Beware, Oh take care.

Around their necks they wear a guard
And in their pocket a deck of cards.

They smoke, they chew, they wear fine shoes
And in their pocket is a bottle of booze.

They hold their hands up to their hearts
     They sigh, Oh they sigh,
They say they love no one but you
     They lie, Oh they lie.

Recorded by New Lost City Ramblers
@love @courting
filename[ BEWARYG
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BHEIR ME O

  Bheir me o, horo van o
  Bheir me o, horo van ee
  Bheir me o, o hooro ho
  Sad am I, without thee

Thou'rt the music of my heart
Harp of joy, o cruit mo chruidh
Moon of guidance by night
Strength and light thou'rt to me

In the morning, when I go
To the white and shining sea
In the calling of the seals
Thy soft calling to me

When I'm lonely, dear white heart
Black the night and wild the sea
By love's light, my foot finds
The old pathway to me

recorded Bok, Seal Djiril's Hymn
also called Eriskay Love Lilt
Copyright Folk-Legacy Records, 1977
@love
filename[ BHEIRMEO
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SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIBLE'S TRUE

I know what evolution is, I want the world to see
Ain't no man can tell me what for, make a monkey out of me

cho: Oh, the Bible's true, yes, I believe it,
     I'm seen enough and I can prove it
     What you say, what you say,
     Bound to be that way
     God made the world and everything that's in it
     Made man perfect and the monkey wasn't in it
     What you say, what you say
     Bound to be that way

Well, evolution teaches man came from a monkey
I don't believe no such thing on the days of the week or Sunday

Well God made the world, then he made man
Woman for to be his mate now beat that if you can.

@bluegrass @country @evolution
filename[ BIBLTRUE
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIDDY MULLIGAN, THE PRIDE OF THE COOMBE

cho:
     You may travel from Clare to the county Kildare
     From Francis Street back to the Coombe;
     But where would you see a fine widow like me?
     Biddy Mulligan the pride of the Coombe, me boys,
     Biddy Mulligan the pride of the Coombe.

I'm a buxom fine widow, I live in a spot
In Dublin, they call it the Coombe.
Me shops and me stalls are laid out on the street,
And me palace consists of one room.
     I sell apples and oranges, nuts and sweet peas,
     Bananas and sugar stick sweet.
     On a Saturday night I sell second-hand clothes,
     From the floor of me stall in the street.

cho:

I sell fish on a Friday, spread out on a board;
The finest you'll find in the sea.
But the best is my herrings, fine Dublin Bay herrings,
There's herrings for dinner and tea.
     I have a son, Mick, he's great on the flute,
     He plays in the Longford Street band;
     It would do your heart good for to see him march out
     On a Sunday for Dollymount Strand.

cho:

In the park, on a Sunday, I make quite a dash;
The neighbors look on in surprise.
With my Aberdeen shawlie thrown over my head,
I dazzle the sight of their eyes.
     At Patrick Street corner, for sixty-four years,
     I've stood, and no one can deny
     That while I stood there, nobody could dare
     To say black was the white of my eye.

cho:

recorded Clancys (I think) RG
@Irish
filename[ BIDDYMUL
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIG BAND THEORY
(Mark Graham)

Many billion years before in what we call the days of yore
The view was so uncluttered an@ pristine.
The Universe was void, nary one stray asteroid.
Creation, friends, had yet to make the scene.
Then with a rude and primal hiss, some fundamental orifice
Blasted forth effluvia and gas.
So call it what you may, but for now just let us say
That the cosmos in its glory came to pass.

It was on that fateful day the earth was sent upon its way
A pleasure cruise upon the cosmic sea.
With Jupiter and Mars and a cast of well-known stars
To keep their little buddy company.
The director of the cruise kept them thoroughly amused
And delighted were they with the bill of fare.
They were certainly surprised when they finally realized
That they'd booked a one-way trip to God knows where.

Being molten for a term, old Terra Firma became firm
And oceans filled the holes eventually.
The celestial planning board soon came to full accord
And zoned the planet residentially.
When the great time-sharing plan on Condo Earth began
Real estate was for the wealthy few.
Now even low class bugs and germs could afford the easy terms
On a luxury apartment with a view.

It wasn't long before gigantic dinosaurs
Were strolling up and down throughout the land
But their tiny cerebellums weren't smart enough to tell 'em
That their terrible demise was close at hand.
Those tremendous herbivores ate their herbal hos d'oevres
Gambolling about without a care.
And now they can be found far underneath the ground
In some forgotten geologic layer.

The time went age by age and other creatures took the stage
Gorillas, rats and dogs were in the cast.
And a naked biped beast who may not have been the least
But was among those folks who took their places last.
This two-legged prima donna told all the other fauna
That the starring role was his and his alone.
When the others asked him why, he just pointed to the sky
And said that God had told him on the phone.

With his new opposing thumb and his king-sized cranium
Man sallied forth with grace and savoir faire.
With Promethian desire he soon discovered fire,
And arson but a single step from there.
The wheel and gasoline, to the full-sized limousine
Music, art and law are but a few,
But name what can compare to the artistry so rare
Of the sparerib that has met the barbecue.

Now, I would like to say that we've come a long, long way
From that big primeval blast a-way back when.
And before we say farewell I'd like to know just where the hell
This roller coaster ride is going to end.
Will we all be blown away on some atomic judgment day
Or travel off through space in high renown?
But where'er we finally go, one thing I truly know
Is we'll find a way to go there sitting down.

Copyright Mark Graham 1979
@science @evolution
filename[ BIGBAND
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIG ROCK CANDY MOUNTAIN

On a summer day in the month of May
A burly bum came hiking
Down a shady lane through the sugar cane
He was looking for his liking
As he roamed along he sang a song
Of the land of milk and honey
Where a bum can stay for many a day
And he won't need any money

Chorus
   Oh the buzzin' of the bees in the cigarette trees
   Near the soda water fountain
   At the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
   On the big rock candy mountain

There's a lake of gin we can both jump in
And the handouts grow on bushes
In the new-mown hay we can sleep all day
And the bars all have free lunches
Where the mail train stops and there ain't no cops
And the folks are tender-hearted
Where you never change your socks and you never throw rocks
And your hair is never parted   (Chorus)

Oh, a farmer and his son, they were on the run
To the hay field they were bounding
Said the bum to the son, "Why don't you come
To that big rock candy mountain?"
So the very next day they hiked away,
The mileposts they were counting
But they never arrived at the lemonade tide
On the big rock candy mountain   (Chorus)

Attributed to Haywire Mac MacClintock
@beg     @fantasy @hobo @utopia
filename[ BIGRKCND
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIG ROCK CANDY MOUNTAIN
(attributed to Harry "Haywire Mac" McClintock

One evening as the sun went down
And the jungle fires were burning,
Down the track came a hobo hiking,
He said, "Boys, I'm not turning
I'm heading for a land that's far away
Beside the crystal fountain
I'll see you all this coming fall
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain*

cho: Oh, the buzzing of the bees in the cigarette trees,
     By the soda water fountain
     Near the lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
     On the Big Rock Candy Mountain

In the Big Rock Candy Mountain,
It's a land that's fair and bright,
The handouts grow on bushes
And you sleep out every night.
The boxcars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the sleet don't fall and the winds don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountain
You never change your socks
And little streams of alky-hol
Come trickling down the rocks
O the shacks all have to tip their hats
And the railway bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and gingerale too
And you can paddle all around it in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain

In the Big Rock Candy Mountain
The cops have wooden legs
The bulldogs all have rubber teeth
And the hens lay soft-boiled eggs
The box-cars all are empty
And the sun shines every day
I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the sleet don't fall and the winds don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain.

In the Big Rock Candy Mountain
The jails are made of tin
You can slip right out again
As soon as they put you in
There ain't no short-handled shovels
No axes, saws nor picks
I'm bound to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountain

*Note:
Just so I don't have to put in any more similar versions,
What I learned (ca 1941) was:

On a summer's day in the month of May
A burly bum came a-hikin'.
Through a shady lane in the sugar cane
He was lookin' for his likin'.
As he strolled along, he sang a song
Of a land of milk and honey,
Where a bum can stay for many a day
And you don't need any money.
(same chorus, followed by verses 3 and 4 from above) RG

@hobo
filename[ BIGROCK2
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIG STEEL RAIL
(Gordon Lightfoot)

Well, I got my mail late last night
Letter from a girl who found the time to write
To her lonesome boy somewhere's in the night
Sent me a railroad ticket to take me to her loving arms
And the big steel rail gonna carry me home to the one I love

Well, I been out here many long days
I haven't found a place I can call my own
Not a two bit bed I can lay my body on
I been stood up, I been shook down
And I've been dragged into the sand
And the big steel rail gonna carry me home to the one I love

Well, I been up tight most every night
Walking along the streets of this old town
Not a friend around I can tell my troubles to
My good old car, she done broke down
Cause I drove her into the ground
And the big steel rail gonna carry me home to the one I love

Well, I look over yonder across the plain
The big drive wheel comes pounding along the ground
Gonna get on board and I'll be homeward bound
I ain't had a home-cooked meal
And Lord, I need one now
And the big steel rail gonna carry me home to the one I love

Now here I am with my hat in my hand
Standing on the broad highway, will you give a ride
To a lonesome boy, I missed my train last night
I went into town for one last round
And I gambled my ticket away
And the big steel rail won't carry me home to the one I love

@train @love
Copyright Warner Brothers Music Publishing Co.
recorded by Gordon Lightfoot
filename[ STELRAIL
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIG STONE JAR

In 'Frisco town there lived a man and Jack Marr was his name;
And in the days of the Cape Horn Trade, he played the Shanghai game.
His wife's name was Mary Ann, sailors knew both near and far;
An' when they [played the Shanghai game, the used the big stone jar.

cho: In the Old Virginia Lowlands, Lowlands Low
     In the Old Virginia Lowlands Low.

The pair thcy played the Shanghai game, wuz known both near an' far
They nevcr missed a lucky chance to use the big stone jar.

A hell-ship she wuz short o' hands, o' full red-blooded tars,
Missus an' Larry would prime the beer in their ol' big stone jar.

Shellbacks an' farmers jist the same sailed into Larry Marr's,
And sailed away around the Horn, helped by the big stone jar.

In 'Frisco town their names is known, as is the Cape Horn Bar,
An' the dope they serve out to ol' Jack, from the big stone jar.

From the Barbary Coast steer clear, me boys, an' from ol' Larry Marr,
Or else damn soon shanghaied ye'll be by Larry's big stone jar.

Shanghaied away in a skys'l-ship around Cape Horn so far,
Goodbye to all the boys an' girls an' Larry's big stone jar.

@sailor @shanghai
filename[ STONEJAR
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIG WILLIAM
(Swarbrick and  Lucas)

He never put a foot wrong
Until the day Joe met Big William
He made him an offer but he often was wrong

"I'll tell you where to stick it," said Big William to Joe
"You can put it where the monkey sticks his nuts"
"I wouldn't give you fourpence for your lousy rotten dough
And, anyway, you haven't got that much"

"Hey Joe, hear what I say
You want my time, I ain't giving away
Go make the money you want some other way"

"I don't want to go to Peru
Don't leave *Delhi, you're any guru*
I don't like work and I don't like you"
"I'll tell you where to stick it," said Big William to Joe
"You can put it where the monkey sticks his nuts"
"I wouldn't give you fourpence for your lousy rotten dough
And, anyway, you haven't got that much"

Copyright Warlock Music
Recorded by Fairport Convention on Nine
@fight
filename[ BIGWILLI
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIGLER'S CREW

Come all my boys and listen, a song I'll sing to you,
It's all about the Bigler and of her jolly crew.
In Milwaukee last October I chanced to get a sight
In the schooner called the Bigler belonging to Detroit.

cho:  Watch her, catch her, jump up on her juber ju,
     Give her the sheet and let her slide,
     The boys will push her through;
     You ought to seen us howling,
     The winds were blowing free,
     On our passage down to Buffalo
     From Milwaukee.

It was on a Sunday morning about the hour of ten,
The Robert Emmett towed us out into Lake Michigan;
We set sail where she left us in the middle of the fleet,
And the wind being from the southard, oh, we had to give her sheet.
Then the wind chopped round to the sou-sou'west and blew both
     fresh and strong,
But softly through Lake Michigan the Bigler she rolled on,
And far beyond her foaming bow the dashing waves did fling,
With every inch of canvas set, her course was wing and wing.

But the wind it came ahead before we reached the Manitous.
Three dollars and a half a day just suited the Bigler's crew.
From there unto the Beavers we steered her full and by,
And we kept her to the wind, my boys, as close as she could lie.

Through Skillagalee snd Wabble Shanks, the entrance to the Straits
We might have passed the big fleet there if they'd hove to and wait;
But we drove them on bebefore us, the nicest you ever saw,
Out into Lake Huron from the Straits of Mackinaw.

We made Presque Isle Light, and then we boomed away,
The wind it being fair, for the Isle of Thunder Bay.
But when the wind it shifted, we hauled her on her starboard tack
With a good lookout ahead for the light at the Point Au Barques.
We made the light and kept in sight of Michigan North Shore
A-booming for the river as we'd oftimes done before;
When right abreast Port Huron Light our small anchor we let go
And the Sweepstakes came alongside and took the Bigler in tow.

The Sweepstakes took eight in tow and all of us fore and aft,
She towed us down to Lake St. Clare and stuck us on the flats.
She parted the Hunter's tow-line in trying to gived relief
And stem and stern went the Bigler into the boat called Maple
     Leaf.

The Sweepstakes then she towed us outside the River Light,
Lake Erie for to roam and the blustering winds to fight.
The wind being from the southard we paddled our own canoe,
With her nose pointed for the Dummy she's hell-bent for Buttalo.

We made the Oh and passed Long Point, the wind was blowing free.
We howled along the Canada shore, Port Colborne on our lee
What is it that looms up ahead, so well known as we draw near?
For like a blazing star shone the light on Buffalo Pier.
And now we are safely landed in Buffalo Creek at last,
And under Riggs' elevator the Bigler she's made fast.
And in some lager beer saloon we'll let the bottle pass,
For we are jolly shipmates and we'll drink a social glass.

from Folk Songs Out of Wisconson, Peters
@sailor @lake  @midwest
filename[ BIGLRCRW
play.exe BIGLRCRW
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILL BAILEY
(Hughie Cannon)

One one summer's day,
Sun was shinin' fine,
The lady love of old Bill Bailey
Was hangin' clothes on the line
In her back yard, and weepin' hard.
She married a B&O brakeman
That took and throwed her down,
Bellerin' like a prune-fed calf
With a big gang hanging round
And to that crowd, she hollered loud:

cho: Won't you come home, Bill Bailey
     Won't you come home?
     She moans the whole day long.
     I'll do the cookin', darling
     I'll pay the rent,
     I know I've done you wrong;
     'Member that rainy eve that
     I threw you out,
     With nothing but a fine-tooth comb?
     I know I'm to blame,
     Well, ain't that a shame
     Bill Bailey won't you please come home.

Bill drove by that door
In an automobile,
A great big diamond, coach and footman
Hear that lady squeal.
He's all alone
I heard her groan.
She hollered through the door
Bill Bailey, is you sore?
Stop a minute, listen to me
Won't I see you no more?
Bill winks his eye
As he heard her cry:
@ragtime
filename[ BLLBAILY
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILL GROGAN'S GOAT

Bill Grogan's goat
     Bill Grogan's goat
Was feeling fine
     Was feeling fine
Ate three red shirts
     Ate three red shirts
Right off the line
     Right off the line.

Bill took a stick
Gave him a whack,
And tied him to
The railroad track.

The whistle blew
The train was nigh
Bill Grogan's goat
Was doomed to die!

He gave a cough
Of mortal pain,
Coughed up those shirts
And flagged the train!

@animal @train
filename[ GOATSHRT
play.exe GOATSHRT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILL MARTIN AND ELLA SPEED

Bill Martin he was long an' slender,
Better known by bein' a bartender.
Bill Martin he was long an' slender,
Better known by bein' a bartender.

Bill Martin he was a man whut had a very small hand
He worked ev'y night at de coffee stand.
Bill Martin he was a man whut had a very small hand
He worked ev'y night at de coffee stand.

He walked out for to borrow a gun'
Something Bill Martin had never done.
Ella Speed was downtown havin' her lovin' fun,
Long came Bill Martin wid his Colt 41.

De fust ball it entered in po' Ella's side,
De nex' ball entered in her breas',
De third ball it entered in her head;
Dat's de ball dat put po' Ella to bed.

All de young gals eome a-runnin'an'cryin',
All de young gals come a-runnin'an'a-cryin',
"It ain' but de one thing worry de po' gal's min'-
She lef' her two lil boys behin'."

De deed dat Bill Martin done'
Jedge sentence: "You gonna be hung."
De deed dat Bill Martin done'
Jedge sentence: "You gonna be hung."

They taken Bill Martin to de freight depot,
An' de train come rollin' by,
He wave his han' at de woman dat he love
An' he hung down his head an' he cry.

All you young girls better take heed'
Don' you do like po' Ella Speed;
Some day you will go for to have a lil fun
An'a man will do you like Bill Martin done.

From Leadbelly's singing
@murder
filename[ ELLASPED
play.exe ELLASPED
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILL VANERO

Bill Vanero heard them say
ln Arizona town one day,
"There's a band of 'pache indians,
They're on the trail this way."
  Bill had heard of a murder done,
  Two men killed on Rocky Run,
  Though his thoughts were with the cow ranch
  On the borders of Rocky Run.

Bill stood gazing all around,
Picked his lasso from the ground,
Caught his little brown Champion
Not many steps away .
  Now Bill, you hold your breath
  For you're riding straight to death,
  There's a band of approaching indians,
  They are on the trail this way.

Soon with bridle and hissing . . .
And jingling of the spurs,
The little brown Champion bore the cowboy
Away from friends and home,
  Over oakey spots he sped
  As his thoughts drift on ahead
  To little Bess at the cow ranch
  And the boys on Rocky Run.

Just then a rifle shot
Woke the echoes of the spot,
Bill Vanero said, "I'm wounded,"
As he reeled from side to side.
  "As long as there's life there's hope,
  Swiftly onward I will lope."
  Suddenly Bill Vanero halted
  In the shadow of the hills.

From his pocket then he took
With weak hands a little book,
He tore a blank leaf from it
Saying, "This will be my will."
  From a tree a twig he broke,
  Then he dipped his pen of oak
  Into the life-blood that was flowing
  From the wound above his heart.

This message he wrote fast,
His first love letter and his last,
Tied it safely to the saddle
And his lips grew white with pain,
  "Take this message, Champ," he said,
  "To little Bessie if not me,
  And if I never reach the cow ranch
  Little Bess will know I tried."

Cow ranch forty miles away
In a lonely spot that lay
In a green and shady valley
In a mighty wilderness .
  Just at dusk a horse of brown
  Covered with sweat come panting down
  From the lane into the cow ranch
  And stopped at Bessie's door.

The cowhoy was asleep
And his slumber was so deep,
Little Bessie tried to wake him,
She tried it o'er and o'er.
  Now you've heard tbe story told
  By the young and by the old,
  How the indians killed Bill Vanero
  On the trail of Rocky Run.

Many years have passed away,
And this maiden's hair turned gray,
But she still puts a wreath of roses
On Bill Vanero's grave.

Note: one of many folk derivations of a poem "The Ride of Paul
     Venarez" by Eben Rexford in the late 1800s.
From Ozark Folksongs, Randolph
Collected from the Penrod Family, Arkansas, 1941
@cowboy @warning @death @Indian
filename[ BVANERO
play.exe BVANERO
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BILLBOARD

As I was walking down the street, one dark and dreary day,
I came upon a billboard, and much to my dismay,
The sign was torn and tattered, from the storm the night before;
The wind and rain had done it's job, and this is what I saw:

Smoke Coca-Cola chewing gum, Chew Wrigley's Spearmint beer
Ken-L-Ration dog food keeps your complexion clear
Simonize your baby with a Hershey's candy bar
And Pepsi-Cola beauty cream is used by all the stars!

So... take you next vacation in a brand new Frigidaire;
Learn to play the piano in your winter underwear;
Doctors say that babies should smoke until they're tha-ree -
And people over sixty-five should bathe in Lipton tea!

(additional verses from SW)

Come smoke a Coca-Cola, drink ketchup cigarettes.
See Lillian Russell rassle with a box of oysterettes
The BVD's the best hotel the charge is half a dime
Overcoats are selling now, a little out of time.

Hello there, Lizzie Borden, make Colgates do your work
Let anyone who wears one take home an Arrow shirt.
Chauncey de Pew will lecture on Sapolio tonight
Castoria cures the measles if applied just right.

I thank you for your kindness
It certainly is immense
But I'm not going to sing anymore
because it's all nonsense.

filename[ BILLBORD
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BILLBOARD

As I was walking down the street
A billboard met my eye
The advertisements written there
Would make you laugh and cry
The wind and rain had been that day
And washed those signs away
And what was left upon that wall
Would make that billboard say:

"Come smoke a Coca Cola
Drink Ketchup Cigarettes
See Lillian Russel rassle
With a box of oysterettes.
The BVD's the best hotel
Let Colgates do your work
Let anyone who wears one
Take home an Arrow shirt.
Overcoats are selling now
Making spirits bright
Sapolio cures the measles if applied just right
I thank you for your kindness
It certainly is immense
But I'm not going to sing any more
Because it's all nonsense.

filename[ BILLBRD2
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILLY BOY

Where have you been all the day, my boy Willie?
Where have you been all the day, Willie won't you tell me now?
I have been all the day courting of a lady gay
But she's too young to be taken from her mother

Is she fit to be a wife, my boy Willie?
Is she fit to be a wife, Willie won't you tell me now?
She's as fit to be a wife as a fork fits to a knife
But she's too young to be taken from her mother

Can she cook and can she spin, my boy Willie?
Can she cook and can she spin, Willie won't you tell me now?
She can cook, she can spin, she can do most anything
But she's too young to be taken from her mother

Can she bake a cherry pie, my boy Willie?
Can she bake a cherry pie, Willie won't you tell me now?
She can bake a cherry pie quick's a cat can wink her eye
But she's too young to be taken from her mother

Does she often go to church, my boy Willie?
Does she often go to church, Willie won't you tell me now?
Yes, she often goes to church in a bonnet white as birch
But she's too young to be taken from her mother

Can she make a feather bed, my boy Willie?
Can she make a feather bed, Willie won't you tell me now?
She can make a feather bed and put pillows at the head
But she's too young to be taken from her mother

Did she ask you to come in, my boy Willie
Did she ask you to come in, Willie won't you tell me now
Yes, she asked me to come in, she's a dimple in her chin
But she's too young to be taken from her mother

Did she tell how old she is, my boy Willie?
Did she tell how old she is, Willie won't you tell me now?
She's three times six, seven times seven, twenty-eight and eleven
But she's too young to be taken form her mother

Child #12
@courting  @kids
printed in Burl Ives Songbook
filename[ BILLYBOY
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILLY BOY 2

Don't you want to go to war, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Don't you want to win a silver medal?
No desire do I feel
To defend Republic Steel
I'm a young thing, and cannot leave my mother.

Don't you want to see the world, Billy Boy, Billy Boy
Don't you want to see the world,  Charmin' Billy?
It wouldn't be much thrill
To die for DuPont in Brazil
I'ma a young thing, and cannot leave my mother.

Note: a parody of Billy Boy, Child #12
From Songs for John Doe, Almanac Singers (1941)
@parody @political @peace
filename[ BLLYBOY2
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILLY BOY 3

Where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Where have you been, charming Billy?
I've been down the lane to see Miss Betsy Jane,
She's a young thing and cannot leave her mammy!

Where does she live, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Where does she live, charming Billy?
She lives on the hill, forty miles from the mill,
She's a young thing and cannot leave her mammy!

Did she ask you in, Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Did she ask you in, charming Billy?
Yes, she asked me in with a dimple in her chin,
She's a young thing and cannot leave her mammy!

Did she take your hat,
Yes, she took my hat and she threw it at the cat,
Did she set you a chair,
Yes she set me a chair, but the bottom wasn't there,

How old is she,
Twice six, twice seven, three times twenty and eleven,

How tall is she,
She's tall as a pine and straight as a vine,

Can she fry a dish of meat,
Yes, she can fry a dish of meat as fast as you can eat,

Can she make a loaf of bread,
She can make a loaf of bread with her nightcap on her head,

Can she bake a cherry pie,
She can bake a cherry pie, in the twinkling of an eye,

Can she bake a punkin well,
She can bake a punkin well, you can tell it by its smell,
Can she sew and can she fell,
She can sew and she can fell, she can use her needle well

Can she make a pair of breeches,
She can make a pair of breeches fast as you can count the stitches

Can she make a feather bed,
She can make a feather bed that will rise above your head

Can she milk a muley cow,
She can milk a muley cow if her mammy shows her how

Is she fitted for your wife,
She's fitted for my wife as my pocket for my knife,

Did she sit close to you,
Yes, she sat as close to me as the bark upon a tree,

Did you ask her to wed,
Yes, I asked her to wed, and this is what she said,
Can she milk a heifer calf,
Yes, and not miss the bucket more than half,

Can she feed a sucking pig,
Yes, as fast as you can jig,

Can she pull the sheet away,
No, that's a game my wife can't play,

Are her eyes dark brown,
Yes, she was raised out of town,

Is she very, very fair,
Oh yes, she's fair, just touch her if you dare,

From American Ballads and Folk Songs, Lomax
Note: Francis Child considered this a version of Lord Randal.
     Sounds odd to me, but who am I to argue with Dr. Child? RG
Child #12
@courting
filename[ BLLYBOY3
play.exe BLLYBOY2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILLY GRIMES

Tomorrow morning I'm sweet sixteen
And Billy Grimes, a drover,
Has popped the question to me, ma
And wants to be my lover.

He says he's coming here, mama,
Tomorrow morning quite early.
To take a pleasant walk with me
Across the field of barley.

You must not go, my daughter dear,
It's no use now in talking.
You must not go across the field
With Billy Grimes a-walking.

To think of his presumption too,
The ugly, dirty drover.
I wonder where your pride has gone
To think of such a lover.

Old Grimes is dead, you know, mama,
And Billy he's so lonely.
Besides of Grimes's whole estate
Billy is the owner.

Surviving heir to all that's left,
That they say is nearly
A good ten thousand dollars, mama,
About six thousand yearly.

I did not hear, my daughter dear,
Your last remark quite clearly,
But Billy he's a clever lad,
And no doubt loves you dearly.

Remember then tomorrow morn
To be up bright and early
To take a pleasant walk with him
Across the field of barley.

From English Folk Songs in the Southern Appalachians, Sharp
  Collected from Mrs. Margaret Jack Dodd, VA 1918
@courting  @family @greed
filename[ BILGRIME
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILLY TAYLOR

Billy Taylor was a sailor
Full of joy and beauty gay,
'Stead of Billy gettin' married
He was pressed and forced away.              A*

cho: Fol rol lol, de rol lo lie do
     Fol rol lol, de rol lol lay.

But the bride soon followed after            B*
Under the name of Richard Carr;
Snow white fingers long and slender
A' covered over wi' pitch and tar.

cho:

She's buttoned on the sailor's clothing,     B*
Dressed herself up like a man;
Awa' she sailed like a tarry sailor
All aboard the Mary Anne.

cho:

A storm arose upon the ocean,                A*
She bein' there amang the rest;
The wind blew off her silver buttons,
There appeared her snow-white breast.

cho:

"Now," said the captain, "My fair lady,      B*
What misfortune brought you here?"
"I'm in search o' my true lover
Whom ye pressed the other year."

cho:

"Now," said the captain, "My fair lady,      B*
Come pray tell me what's his name?"
"Some folks ca' him Billy Taylor
but Willie Taylor is his name."

cho:

"If Billy Taylor's your true lover,          A*
He has proved to you untrue;
He got married tae another
Left ye here alone to rue."

cho:

"Rise ye early in the mornin',               B*
Early by the break o' day.
There ye'll see young Billy Taylor
Walkin' oot wi' his lady gay."

cho:
She rose early the next mornin'              B*
Early by the break o' day;
There she saw young Billy Taylor
Walkin' oot wi' his lady gay.

cho:

Gun and pistol she's commanded,              A*
Gun and pistol by her side;
She has shot young Billy Taylor
Walkin' oot wi' his new-made bride.

cho:

"Now," says the captain, "My fair lady       B*
Come pray tell me what you've done."
I have shot young Billy Taylor
Wi' a double-barreled gun."

cho:
When the captain did behold her              B:
And the deed that she has done,
He has made her a chief commander
Over a ship and a hundred men (or gun).

cho:

(Note: Cilla Fisher and Artie Trezise recorded this for Folk
Legacy; they use two variant melodies, Identified here as A* and
B*)
@Scots @love @murder @sailor @transvestite
filename[ BLLYTYLR
play.exe BLLYTYLR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BILLY THE KID

I'll sing you a true song of Billy the Kid,
I'll sing of the desperate deeds that he did,
Way out in New Mexico, long long ago
When a man's only chance was his own 44.

When Billy the Kid was a very young lad
In the old Silver City he went to the bad
Way out in the West with a gun in his hand
At the age of twelve years he first killed his man.

Fair Mexican maidens play guitars and sing
A song about Billy, the boy bandit king
How ere his young manhood had reached its sad end
He'd a notch on his pistol for twenty-one men.

'Twas on the same night when poor Billy died
He said to his friends: "I am not satisfied.
There are twenty-one men I have put bullets through
And sheriff Pat Garrett must make twenty-two."

Now this is how Billy the Kid met his fate,
The bright moon was shining, the hour was late
Shot down by Pat Garrett, who once was his friend
The young outlaw's life had now come to its end.

There's many a man with a face fine and fair
Who starts out in life with a chance to be square,
But just like poor Billy he wanders astray
And loses his life in the very same way.

Note: This song -- a pretty good one, I think -- is remembered
mainly because Woody Guthrie used the tune for the verse of So
Long, It's Been Good to Know You.

From Lomax-Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads
@cowboy @outlaw
filename[ BILLYKID
play.exe BILLYKID
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BINGO

There was a farmer had a dog,
And Bingo was his name, sir.
B-I-N-G-O,
B-I-N-G-O,
B-I-N-G-O
And Bingo was his name, sir.

The farmers black dog sat on the back fence, etc.

The farmer's dog's at our back door
begging for a bone, O etc.

Note: As a kid's singing game, do any one verse,
  and repeat it, each time silently mouthing one
  more letter of the spelling.
@kids @camp @playparty
filename[ BINGGO
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BINGO IN THE MORNING
(Mike Donald)

Once we had a lovely house; we even owned a yacht,
Now we have a caravan parked on the Council plot.
The cousin's playing Bingo, me Grannies at it too.
You'd better watch the Bingo, it's worse than Asian 'flu,

Cho: It's Bingo in the morning and it's Bingo late at night
     It's Bingo on our holidays - it gives you quite a fright
     Me mother sold me sister to buy a Bingo card
     Since mother took up Bingo, life's been very hard

The family had a funeral to lay an Aunt to rest,
So many solemn faces the Vicar tried his best
By shouting out the numbers so the people they could play
And someone shouted Bingo as the coffin slid away.

After courting ten years I decided I should wed.
I went to see the Doctor and the guidance books I read
But when I popped the question, my heart it really sank
I can't get married Saturday, it's Bingo at Top Rank.

copyright EFDS Publications 1974
@game @gambler
filename[ BINGOAM
play.exe BINGOAM
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BINNORIE

There lived twa sisters in yonder ha'
     Binnorie, o an' Binnorie,
They hid bit ae lad atween them twa,
     He's the bonnie miller lad o Binnorie.

It fell aince upon a day
That the auldest ane to the youngest did say
     At the bonnie mull dams o Binnorie.


O sister O sister will ye gang to the brooms,
An hear the little blackbirdie changing its tunes
     At the bonnie mull dams o Binnorie.


O sister O sister will ye gang to the dams
An see your father's fish boats safe on dry land
     An see the mullart lad o Binnorie.


They hidna been half an hour at the brooms
Till they thrice heard the blackbirdie changing its tunes
     At the bonnie mull dams O Binnorie.

They hidna been an hour at the dams
Till they saw their father's fish boats safe on dry land
     But they sawna the bonnie mullart laddie.

The youngest ane she stood on a stane
The aulest ane dung the youngest in
     To the bonnie mull dams o Binnorie.

She swam up an she swam down
Till she swam back tull her sister again
     In the bonnie mull dams o Binnorie.

Sister O Sister will ye reach me yere glove
An I'II make you heir o my true love
     The bonnie mullart lad O Rinorie.

It wisna for that, that I dang ye in,
It's because ye are fair an I am din*
     An ye'll droon in the dams o Binnorie.

Oot cam the aul' mullart's daughter to the dams
For water tae wash her father's hands
     Fae the bonnie mull dams o Binnorie.

O father O father go a-fishing your dams
For there's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan
     In the bonnie mull dams o Binnorie.

They socht up an they socht down
But they got naething but a droon'd woman
     In the bonnie mull dams O Binnorie.

Some o them kent her by her skin so fair
But weel kent the millart by her bonnie yellow hair
     She's the millart's bonnie lass o Binnorie.

Some o them kent her by her goon o silk
But the millart laddie kent her by her middle so jimp
'Twas his ain bonnie lass o Binnorie.

Mony a ane was at her oot takin
An mony ane mair at her green grave makin
     At the bonnie mull dams o Binnorie.

*din=dun, dark
From Grieg-Duncan Collection
Child #10
@family @murder
filename[ TWOSIS5
play.exe TWOSIS5
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BINNORIE (TWO SISTERS)

There were twa sisters sat in a bow'r
     Binnorie, O Binnorie
There cam a knight to be their wooer.
     By the bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie.

He courted the eldest wi' glove and ring
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a'thing.

He coorted the eldest wi' broach and knife
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon his life.

The eldest she was vexed sair
And sore envied her sister fair.

The eldest said to the youngest ane:
"Will you go and see our father's ships come in"

She's ta'en her by the lily hand
And led her down to the river strand.

The youngest stude upon a stane
The eldest cam' and pushed her in.

She took her by her middle sma'
And dashed her bonny back to the jaw.

"Oh sister, sister reach your hand
And ye shall be heir of half my land"

"Oh sister, I'll not reach my hand
And I'll be heir of all your land."

"Shame fa' the hand that I should take
It's twined me, and my world's make."

"Oh sister, reach me but your glove
And sweet William shall be your love."
"Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove
And sweet William shall better be my love."

"Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
Garr'd me gang maiden ever mair."

Sometimes she sunk, sometimes she swam
Until she cam to the miller's dam.

The miller's daughter was baking bread
And gaed for water as she had need.

"O father, father, draw your dam!
There's either a mermaid or a milk-white swan."

The miller hasted and drew his dam
And there he found a drown'd woman.

Ye couldna see her yellow hair
For gowd and pearls that were sae rare.

Ye coldna see her middle sma'
Her gowden girdle was sae braw.

Ye couldna see her lily feet
Her gowden fringes were sae deep.

A famous harper passing by
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy.

And when he looked that lady on
He sighed, and made a heavy moan.

"Sair will they be, whate'er they be
The hearts that live to beat for thee."

He made a harp o' her breast bone
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone.

The strings he framed of her yellow hair
Their notes made sad the listening ear.

He brought it to her father's ha'
There was the court assembled there.

He layed the harp upon a stane
And straight it began to play alane.

"O yonder sits my father the King
And yonder sits my mother, the queen."

"And yonder stands my brother Hugh
And by him, my William, sweet and true."

But the last tune that the harp played then
Was: "Woe to my sister, false Helen"

From Bronson, Singing Tradition of Child's Popular Ballads
Version from Bruce and Stokoe, 1882.
See also   TWOSIS
Recorded by Dyer-Bennett
Child #10
@ballad @love @murder @family
filename[ BINNORI
play.exe BINNORI
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIRD IN A CAGE

As I went out one May morning
To hear the birds sing sweet
I leaned my back to a garden wall
And watched two lovers meet

You courted me was what she said
You got me to comply
You courted me with a merry mood
All night with you to lie

And when your heart was mine false love
And your head lay on my breast
You could make me believe by the fall of your arm
That the sun rose in the west

I wish your breast was made of glass
That all in it might behold
I'd write our secret on your heart
In letters made of gold

My parents they have brought me up
Like a small bird in a cage
And now I am in child by you
Not fifteen years of age

There's many a girl can go about
And hear the birds so sweet
While I poor girl must stop at home
And rock the cradle and weep

Rock the cradle o'er and o'er
And sing sweet lullaby
Was ever there a poor young girl
So crossed in love as I

There's many a star shall fade in the west
There's many a leaf shall blow
There's many a curse shall light on a man
For treating a poor girl so

Go down in your father's garden love
Sit down and cry your fill
And when you think on what you done
You'll blame your own good will

@courting  @bastard
from Sedley, Seeds of Love
text collated from Sharp and Gardiner
SEE ALSO BLKWTRSD
filename[ BIRDCAGE
play.exe BIRDCAGE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIRD IN THE CAGE
(Ruthie Gorton)

My bird is learning how to fly
Soaring on the wings of her song
If sometimes she flies a bit too high
It's 'cause she was in my cage for so long

And I kept her in my cage, and I fed her every day
I said, Little bird if you watch me, I'll show you the way
I'll teach you how to fly so high, I'll teach you how to sing
But if you want to be like me I've got to clip your wings

She said, I see you have the wisdom that must come with age
It must be 'cause you love me that you keep me in this cage
Then one day my bird awoke and found her song was gone
She asked me, What can it be, did I do something wrong?

Well I got very angry and I said, Bird, hang your head
You're not singing like you should, you cry all day instead
How can you behave so, after all I've done for you
And the more she tried, the more she cried, and wondered what to do

I've seen her tears of anguish turn to tears of rage
She said, How can I learn to fly when you keep me in this cage?
Now I know that if I stay, I'll never learn to sing
So I am going far away, you can't teach me a thing

You know my freedom is not something you can give to me
Well I must take it for myself if I want to be free
I've got to trust my own wings if I want to learn to fly
In this cage I'll never sing, I've got to find the sky

My bird is learning how to fly
Soaring on the wings of her song
If sometimes she flies a bit too high
It's 'cause she was in my cage for so long

@feminist @animal @freedom
filename[ BIRDFLY
MC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIRDS IN THE SPRING
(The Copper Family)

One May morning I chanced for to roam,
And strolled through the fields by the side of the grove.
It was there I did hear the harmless birds sing
And you never heard so sweet as the birds in the spring.

At the end of the grove I sat myself down
And the song of the nightingale echoed all round.
Their song was so charming, their notes were so clear,
No music, no songster can with them compare.

All you that come here, the small birds to hear,
I'll have you pay attention, so pray all draw near.
And, when you're growing old, you will have this to say,
That you never heard so sweet as the birds on the spray.

@bird @animal @spring
filename[ BIRDSPRG
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIRKEN TREE

"Oh, lass gin ye wad think it richt tae gang wi' me this very nicht
We'll cuddle till the morning licht, by a' the lave unseen, O
It's ye shall be my dearie, my ain dearest dearie
An' ye shall be my dearie, gin you meet me at e'en, O"

"I dare nae frae my mammie gae, she locks the door and keeps the key
And e'en an' mornin' charges me, and aye aboot the men, oh
She said they're all deceivers, deceivers, deceivers
She said they're all deceivers, we canna trust tae ane, O"

"O never mind your mammie's yell, nae doot she met yer dad hersel'
And should she flyte ye may her tell she's aften done the same, O.
Sae lassie gie's yer hand on't, your bonnie milk-white hand on't,
So lassie gie's yer hand on't, and scorn tae lie your lane, O".

"O lad, my hand I canna gie, but aiblins I may steal the key
And meet ye at the birken tree that grows down in the glen, O.
But dinna lippen laddie, I canna promise laddie
But dinna lippen laddie, in case I cann win, O."

Noo he gane tae the birken tree, in hopes his true love there tae see
An' wha cam' trippin' o'er the lea, but just his bonnie Jean, O,
An' she sat doon beside him, beside him, beside him,
An' she sat doon beside him, upon the grass sae green, O.

"I'm overjoyed wi' rapture noo," cried he an' kissed her cherry mou'
And Jeannie ne'er had cause tae rue that nicht upon the green, O
For she has got her Johnnie, her sweet an' loving Johnnie,
For she has got her Johnnie, an' Johnnie's got his Jean, O.

From The Birken Tree, Blackfriars Music, Edinburgh
@Scots @courting
filename[ BIRKNTRE
play.exe BIRKNTRE
CC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BIRKS OF ABERFELDIE
(Robert Burns)

Now simmer blinks on flow'ry braes,
And o'er the crystal streamlet plays,
Come, let us spend the lightsome days
In the birks of Aberfeldie!.

Chorus:
     Bonnie lassie, will ye go,
     will ye go, will ye go,
     Bonnie lassie, will ye go
     To the birks of Aberfeldie?

The little birdies blithely sing,
While o'er their heads the hazels hing;
Or lightly flit on wanton wing
In the birks of Aberfeldie!

Chorus

The braes ascend like lofty wa's,
The foaming stream, deep-roaring, fa's,
O'er-hung wi'fragrant spreading shaws,
The birks of Aberfeldie.

Chorus

The hoary cliffs are crown'd wi'flowers,
White o'er the linns the burnie pours,
And, rising, weets wi' misty showers
The birks of Aberfeldie.

Chorus

Let Fortune's gifts at random flee,
They ne'er shall draw a wish frae me,
Supremely blest wi' love and thee
In the birks of Aberfeldie.
Note: Tune is Birks of Abergeldie (170)
filename[ABERFELD
play.exe ABERFELD
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIRMINGHAM BOYS

In Birmingham town there lived a man
And he had such a lov-e-ly wife
And so dearly she loved company
As dearly as she loved life, boys, life
As dearly as she loved life

And this poor man he goes to sea
His living for to get
And where he spent one penny, she spent two
And it's all for the want of wit, boys, wit...

When this poor man came home from sea
It being late in the night
Enquiring for his own dear wife
Was his joy and his heart's delight, boys, light...

"Oh she's just gone to her sister's oh
Shall I go fetch her in?"
Saying, "Oh my dear, I will go myself
And ask myself to drink, boys, drink..."

As he was a-going along the road
He heard such a dis-a-mal noise
And who should it be but his own dear wife
Along with the Birmingham boys, brave boys,...

So this poor man stood thinking
His heart was nearly broke
Then he went back and sent the maid
While he prepared a rope, boys, rope...

Then she came jumping, skipping in
Gave him such a joyful kiss
Saying, "You're welcome home, kind husband, dear
Long time you have been missed, boys, missed...

So we'll bar the door so neat and snug
And let us go to bed
For the pain that do lay in my breast
I can no longer rest, boys, rest..

So he took a switch and he beat her so
Till she was wonderful sore
"Oh forbear, forbear," she cried, "Husband dear,
I'll never do so no more, no more..."

"For if you do, I'll make you rue
And curse the hour you were born
For deceiving of your husband dear
I'll make you wear the horn, boys, horn..."

So come all you women in Birmingham
And listen unto me
And don't you spend your money a-waste
When your husband is on the sea, boys, sea...

@marriage  @abuse
Printed in Kennedy Folksongs of Britain and Ireland
Recorded by Martin Carthy
filename[ BIRMBOYS
play.exe BIRMBOYS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIRMINGHAM LADS
(John Freeth, Charles Dibden)

This day for our new navigation
We banish all cares and vexation;
The sight of the barges each honest heart glads
And the merriest of mortals are Birmingham lads.
     Birmingham lads, jovial blades,
     And the merriest of mortals are Birminhgam lads.

With pride every heart must be glowing
Stamps, presses and lathes shall be going;
The lads to the wharf with their lasses repair
And smile at the streamers that play in the air
     Play in the air, free and fair,
     And smile at the streamers that play in the air.

Let Stratford sons boast out of all measure
The fruits of their mulberry treasure;
Such treasure for once may cause Jubilee joys
But riches spring daily from Birmingham toys
     Birmingham toys, all men praise,
     But riches sp*ing daily from Birmingham toys

The Thames, Severn, Trent and the Avon,
Our countrymen frequently rave on;
But none of their neighbours are happier than they
Who peacably dwell on the banks of the Rea,
     Banks of the Rea, ever gay,
     Who peacably dwell on the banks of the Rea.

Not Europe can match us for traffic,
America, Asia and Afric;
Of what we invent each partakes of a share,
For the best of wrought metals is Birmingham ware
Birmingham ware , none so rare
For the best of wrought metals is Bilmingham ware.

Since by the canal navigation,
Of coals we've the best in the nation;
Around the gay circle your bumpers then put,
For the cut of all cuts is a Birmingham cut,
     Birmingham cut, fairly wrought,
     For the cut of all cuts is a Birmingham cut.

From Victoria's Inferno, Raven
Note: Tune written as "Warwickshire Lads. Verse written in 1780
     to mark the openiong of the Birmingham Canal in 1769 RG

@work @canal
filename[ BRMNGLAD
play.exe BRMNGLAD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BIRMINGHAM SUNDAY
(Richard Farina)

Come round by my side and I'll sing you a song
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
On Birmingham Sunday, the blood ran like wine
And the choir kept singing of freedom

That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun
And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one
At an old Baptist church, there was no need to run
And the choir kept singing of freedom

The clouds they were gray and the autumn winds blew
And Denise McNair brought the number to two
The falcon of Death was a creature they knew
And the choir kept singing of freedom

The church it was crowded but no one could see
That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three
Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me
And the choir kept singing of freedom

Young Carol Robertson entered the door
And the number her killers had given was four
She asked for a blessing, but asked for no more
And the choir kept singing of freedom

On Birmingham Sunday the noise shook the ground
And people all over the earth turned around
For no one recalled a more cowardly sounds
And the choir kept singing of freedom

The men in the forest, they asked it of me
How many blackberries grew in the blue sea
And I asked them right with a tear in my eye
How many dark ships in the forest

The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone
And I can't do much more than to sing you this song
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong
And the choirs keep singing of freedom

Note: in 1963 four girls were killed when a bomb exploded
 in a Negro church in Birmingham, Alabama.
recorded Baez /5
@political @murder
filename[ BIRMSUN
play.exe FLSEBRDE
SH
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BITTER WITHY

As it fell out on a high holiday
Small rain from the sky did fall
Sweet Jesus asked of his own mother dear
Whether he might play at ball

To play, to play, dear child she did say
It's time that you have been gone
And don't let me hear complaints about you
At night when you do come home

Now our Savior walked down into yonder town
As far as the holy, holy well
And there he met three of the finest children
That ever any tongue could tell

Good morn, good morn, good morn, said they
Good morning, then said he, said he
Now which of you three fine children
Will play at ball with me

Oh we are lords and ladies sons
Born in a bowery hall
And you are but a maiden's child
Born in an oxen stall

Now our savior built a bridge with the beams of the sun
and over the water ran he, ran he
And the three jolly children followed after him
And drowned they were all three

The upward ball and the downward ball
Their mothers they did wail and squall
Saying, Mary mild, fetch home your child
For ours are drownded all

Then Mary mild picked a handful of withies
And laid our dear savior across her knee
And with that handful of withy twigs
She gave him slashes three

Oh cursed be to the bitter withy
That has caused me to smart, to smart
And that shall be the very first tree
That shall perish right at the heart

recorded by MaColl & Lloyd- English & Scottish Ballads; Roberts &
Barrand - Nowell Sing We Clear
@religion   @kids
filename[ BITWITHY
play.exe BITWITHY
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLACK BALL LINE

I served my time on the Black Ball line
     To me way-ay-ay O Ri-o
On the Black Ball line I served my time
     Hurrah for the Black Ball line!

The Black Ball ships they are good and true
And they are the ships for me and you.

For once there was a Black Ball ship
That fourteen knots an hour* could clip.

You will surely find a rich gold mine
Just take a trip on the Black Ball line.

Just take a trip to Liverpool
To Liverpool, that Yankee school.

The Yankee sailors you'll see there
With their high-top boots and short-cut hair.

*I know. A knot is a rate of speed, and a knot an hour is bad
physics. Stan Hugill says that it was sung this way, though. RG
Recorded by LLoyd and MacColl- Haul On the Bowline.
@sailor
filename[ BLAKBALL
play.exe BLAKBALL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK BETTY

Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bam-ba-lamb,
Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bamhalamb,
Black Betty had a baby,
Bambalamb,
Black Betty had a baby,
Bambalamb.

Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bam-ba-lamb,
Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bam-ba-lamb,
It de cap'n's baby,
Bam-ba-lamb,
It de cap'n's baby,
Bam-ba-lamb.
Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bambalamb,
Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bambalamb,
But she didn' feed de baby,
Bambalamb,
But she didn' feed de baby,
Bambalamb.

Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bamhalamb,
Oh, Lawd, Black Betty,
Bambalamb,
Black Betty, where'd you come from?
Bambalamb,
Black Betty, where'd you come from?
Bambalamb.

From American Ballads and Folk Songs, Lomax
Note: Black Betty was the whip used in some southern prisons.
@chaingang @work
filename[ BLKBETTY
play.exe BLKBETTY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK BOXES
(Nick Krukovsky)

Black boxes on the prelim
Black boxes nice and linear
Black boxes, black boxes
Black boxes all the same

There's an active one and a passive one
And a simple one and a hairy one
And they're all made of ideal elements
And they all fake you out the same

And the ideal elements
Were made at the university
Where they all got put in boxes
Black boxes all the same

To make servos and counters
And other electronic elements
But they all have stray reactance
So they fake you out the same

And their fields have no fringing
And reactance has no losses
And the parts are nicely lumped
In the boxes all the same

And no matter what the input
You should always know the output
Of the boxes, black boxes
But they all fake you out the same

And the boxes go into radios
And lasers and computers
Into still bigger boxes
Black boxes all the same

And professors and authors
And engineers by the thousands
Build more boxes, black boxes
And they all fake you out the same

@parody @computer @school
filename[ BLACKBOX
play.exe LITBOX
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK CAVALRY

In the first of me downfall I put out the door,
And I straight made me way on for Carrick-on-Suir;
Going out by Rathronan 'twas late in the night
Going out the west gate for to view the gaslight

cho: Radley fal the diddle I
     Radley fal the riddle airo.

There I met with a youth and unto him I said
"Would you kindly direct me to where I'll get a bed?"
It was then he directed me down to Cook's Lane,
To where old Dick Darby kept an old sleeping cage

There I put up and down 'til I found out the door,
And I cried, "Must I then spend the night on the floor?"*
And the missus came out and these words to me said,
"If you give me three coppers I'll give you a bed."
She took me upstairs and she put out the light,
And in less than five minutes I had to show fight.
In less than five more, sure the story was worse,
For the fleas came about me and brought me a curse.

All round me body they formed an arch,
And all round me body they played the dead march.
The bloody old major gave me such a nip
That he nearly had taken the use of me hip.

Now I'm going to me study, these lines to pen down,
And if any poor traveler should e'er come to town,
If any poor traveler [be knighted] (benighted?) like me,
Oh, beware of Dick Darby and the black cavalry.

* line missing, faked by RG
From The Irish Songbook, Clancys
Recorded by Clancys

@Irish @bug    @animal
filename[ BLKCVLRY
play.exe BLKCVLRY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK CHIMNEY SWEEPER

Come all you pretty fair maids who wish for to marry,
From sixteen to eighteen, From eighteen to twenty,
From sixteen to eighteen, From eighteen to twenty,
For I'm twenty-five and I never hadn't any.

cho: Mush a whang torrel lorrel lorrel,
     Whang torrel laddie.

Now there's my sister Susie, she's younger than I am,
She's got sweethearts at twenty and is going to deny them,
But I'm twenty-five and I haven't gotten any,
Oh God knows in my heart I'd be thankful for any.

Now there's my sister Katie, she vowed and was taken,
At the age of sixteen a bride she was makin',
Now she is eighteen, got a son and a daughter
And I am twenty-five and I never had an offer.
I heard of a prophecy as spoken by my mother
That goin' to a weddin' would bring on another,
If I heard of a weddin' I would go without a biddin'
For God knows in me heart I'd be fond of a weddin'.

Come ink man, come pen man, come brewer, come baker,
Come fiddler, come fifer, come weaver, come tailor,
Come ragman, hangman, foolish man or whiddy (sic) ,
Will you let me die a maid, won't you marry me for pity?

No ink man, no pen man, no brewer, no baker,
No fiddler, no fifer, no weaver, no tailor,
No ragman, no hangman, foolish man or whiddy
But she's now in the arms of a black chimney sweeper.

Now he has got her and embraces her sweet charms,
Now he enfolds her in his black sooty arms,
Now he has got her and he swears he will keep her
For she's now in the arms of a black chimney sweeper.
From Folksongs from Southern New Brunswick, Creighton
Collected from Captain Cecil Jeffreys (between 1954 and 1960)
Note: (from the collector) "It is not revealed here how the chimney
     sweeper came into the picture, but the Fowke version from Ontario says
     the devil sent him."
@marriage @oldmaid
filename[ OLDMAID6
play.exe OLDMAID6
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLACK COOK

If you'll listen awhile, I will sing you a ditty
Concerning a doctor who lived in Carrtown,
By seamen so bold he was fairly outwitted
And fifty gold guineas was forced to pay down
     These jolly jack tars and their comrades, well grogged,
     Their money all spent and their credit far gone;
     From Fairport's bright town to the Keys they had wandered
     And bound to obtain some money for fun.

The cook of our ship, being one of their number
A bold lad was he, and his color was black,
For wit and for wisdom, hew always was ready
To think of a way to get cash in a crack.
     Said he to his comrades," I've heard people say
     That a corpse can be sold quite readily here.
     Go take me alive, wrap me up in my hammock
     And sell me to buy some whiskey and beer,"

The crew being glad to accept of his offer
Away to the house where the doctor did dwell,
And into his ear, most softly did whisper,
"Kind doctor. We have a fine corpse for to sell."
     "A corpse!" said the doctor, like one in amazement,
     "Oh, where did you get it? Oh, tell me, I pray!
     Get it and bring it unto me this evening,
     And fifty gold guineas to you I will pay!"

The crew being glad to accept of his offer,
Away to the ship, why, they quickly did steer.
And now pay attention to all that I mention,
And the rest of my story you quickly will here.
     They took the black cook, tied him up in his hammock
     And he, being a lad both steady and strong,
     Under his coat, in the way of protection
     Carried a knife with a blade about half a yard long.

That night, after dark, when the streets were deserted
The crew they struck out with the cook on their back;
When they got to the house where the doctor resided,
'Twas in a dark room they concealed the poor black.
     And after the doctor had paid them their money
     They told him the cook he had died upon sea,
     And rather than have his dead body for to bury,
     "Why, we've sold him to you, sir, now he's out of the way."

The doctor went up for the tools to dissect him,
And soon he came down with a saw in his hand.
When he got to the room where the corpse was residing
Why Jack, with his cutlass, most boldly did stand.
     And there stood the doctor, like one in amazement
     He thought the black cook was a very rich prize,
     In a voice loud as thunder, Jack boldly beheld him
     Crying "Damn your eyes, doctor, I'll skin you alive!"

The doctor was glad to retreat in a hurry
And of his late bargain was soon to repent,
While Jack he went out where his comrades were drinking
And the rest of the night was most pleasantly spent.

recorded Ellen Stekert- Songs of a New York Lumberjack; John
  Roberts - Across the Western Ocean
Tune: Var. of Larry O'Gaff
@sailor @death
filename[ BLCKCOOK
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK FOX

Well as we were out a hunting
One morning in the spring
Both hounds and horses were running well
Made the hills and the valleys ring

But to out great misfortune
No fox there could be found
Our huntsmen cursed and swore but still
No fox moved over the ground

And upspoke our master huntsman
At the head of the hounds rode he
"Well we have ridden for a good three hours
But no fox have we seen

"And there is strength in me
And I will have my chase
And if only the Devil himself came by
We'd run him such a race"

And then up there sprung like lightening
A fox from out of his hole
And his fur was the color of a starless night
And his eyes like burning coals

And they chased him over the valley
And they chased him over the field
And they chased him down to the riverbank
But never would he yield

And he's jumped into the water
and he's swum to the other side
And he's laughed so hard that the greenwood shook
And then he's turned to the huntsmen and cried

"Ride on my gallant huntsmen when must I come again?
Oh never shall you want for a fox to chase all over the plain
And when your need is greatest, just call upon My Name
I will come and you shall have the best of sport and game"

And the men looked up in wonder
And the hounds ran back to hide
For the fox had changed to the Devil himself
Where he stood on the other side

And the men, the hounds and horses
Went flying back to town
And hard on their heels came a small black fox
Laughing as he cried

"Ride on my gallant huntsmen when must I come again?
Oh never shall you want for a fox to chase all over the plain
And when your need is greatest, just call upon My Name
I will come and you shall have the best of sport and game"

@hunt @devil @myth @animal
recorded by Chris Foster
filename[ BLACKFOX
play.exe BLACKFOX
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK HAIRED LASS

Down in the lowland there did dwell
A comely maid I knew full well
And for her favor many did go
To tip a cup of kindness with her brothers, oh

  She's sublime with her delicate hair
  She's the flower beyond compare
  Many's the lad has tippled his glass
  All for the love of the black haired lass

Now, there was a youth I knew him well
All up on the mountain he did dwell
And for her favor he did go
To tip a cup of kindness with her brothers, oh
Then on his way her brothers did lie
By their blades this youth did die
As for her favor he did go
To tip a cup of kindness with her brothers, oh

Then in the twilight of the year
His ghostly form it did appear
And for her favor it did go
To tip a cup of kindness with her brothers, oh

Oh maiden, maiden hear me well
False-hearted kindred here do dwell
Take heed my plight to all who go
To tip a cup of kindness with her brothers, oh

@murder @courting
see also JEALBROS ROLLSTON
recorded by Beers Family
filename[ BLKHLASS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK IS THE COLOR OF MY TRUE LOVE'S HAIR

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
The purest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep
But satisfied I never can sleep
I'll write to you in a few short lines
I'll suffer death ten thousand times

I know my love and well she knows
I love the grass whereon she goes
If she on earth no more I see
My life will quickly fade away

A winter's past and the leaves are green
The time has past that we have seen
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I will be as one

Black is the color of my true love's hair
Her lips are like some rosy fair
The purest eyes and the neatest hands
I love the ground whereon she stands

____________
Well known arrangement by John Jacob Niles.  This version is from
Cecil Sharp.  Recorded by Jean Ritchie
@love

filename[ BLACKCOL
play.exe BLACKCOL
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK JACK DAVEY

O Black Jack Davy came riding by
A whistling so merrily
He made the woods all around him ring
And he charmed the heart of a lady (2x)

O come with me my pretty little one
O come with me my honey
I swear by the beard upon my chin
That you'll never want for money

Pull off, pull off your high heeled shoes
All made of Spanish leather
Put on, put on your low heeled boots
And we'll ride off together

She pulled off her high heeled shoes
all made of Spanish leather
She jumped behind him on his horse
And they rode off together

That night her husband he came home
A looking for his lady
Her maid she spoke before she thought
Said she's gone with Black Jack Davy

O saddle me up my coal black steed
My white one's not so speedy
I rode all day and I'll ride all night
And I'll bring home my lady

He rode all night till broad day light
He came to a rive raging
And there he spied his darling bride
In the arms of Black Jack Davy

Pull off, pull off your long black gloves
All made of Spanish leather
And jump behind me on my horse
And we'll ride home together

She pulled off her long black gloves
All made of Spanish leather
She gave to him her lily white hand
and said good-by for ever

Would you forsake your house and home;
Would you forsake our baby
Would you forsake your wedded love
And go with Black Jack Davy

Last night I slept in a warm feather bed
Beside my husband and baby
Tonight I'll sleep on the cold, cold ground
In the arms of Black Jack Davy.

(from the singing of Putnam String County Band)
@gypsy @courting
sung by Putnam County String Band
Child #200
 See also files starting with GYP
filename[ GYPBLJK
play.exe GYPBLJK
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK JACK DAVY (IN ATLANTIC CITY)
(Mark Cohen)

Oh, Black Jack Davy come a-riding by, all in his gold Mercedes
He dressed so flashy and he spoke so fine, and he's charmed the
   heart of a lady

"Turn off, turn off your TV soaps, turn off that Richard Simmons
Come along with me and I'll make you rich, the envy of other women"

So she's turned off her TV set, climbed into his Mercedes
"Go and tell my husband that I've gone away with Black Jack Davy"

"Oh, where is it we're going to, and how did you get that name-o?"
"We're going to Atlantic City," he said, "cause blackjack is my game-o

And how do you like my fancy car, with seats of Spanish leather?"
"Your car's OK, but did you say that we'd get rich together?"

"I'll buy for you a silken gown with shoes of Spanish leather"
"Well that would be all right," she said, "but cash would be much
   better"

They rode out to the Jersey shore, they drove across the channel-o
The lady sat and passed the time with tapes of Barry Manilow

"This town's OK," she said to him, "though the prices are outrageous
I like the Boardwalk and the beach, but the shows are better in Vegas"

He found a blackjack table there, bought chips of many colors
The lady was surprised to see each one was fifty dollars

He played one hand and he played some more, but not one did he win-o
She said, "I thought you were a shark, but you look more like a
   minnow"

He played one hand and he played some more, but not one did he win-o
She said, "Why don't I try my luck, cause yours is getting thin-o"

The very first card that she was dealt, it was the Ace of Spadey
The very next card that she was dealt, it was the Diamond Lady

Her husband soon arrived and said, "Come home with me, my lady"
"Oh, no, I'm thirteen hundred up, if I left now I'd be crazy"

"Would you forsake your house and home in Cherry Hill New Jersey?
Would you forsake your wedded love, not showing any mercy?"

"Last night I slept in a mobile home in Cherry Hill, New Jersey
Tonight I'll sleep on satin sheets, and dine on food so fancy"

"Oh will you then go riding off, away with Black Jack Davy?"
"Oh, no, he's lost his car and all, and I hear he's joined the Navy"

Oh, Black Jack Davy come a-riding by, all in his gold Mercedes
He dressed so flashy and he spoke so fine, and he's charmed the
   heart of a lady

Copyright Mark Cohen)
Child #200
see also files starting with GYP
@parody @gypsy @infidelity
filename[ GYPGAMB
MC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK ROCK PORK

I shipped aboard of a lumber boat
Her name was Charles O'Rourke.
And the very first thing that they rolled on board
Was a barrel of Black Rock Pork.

They fried a chunk for breakfast,
And a chunk for luncheon, too.
It didn't taste so goody-good,
And it was hard to chew.

From Buffalo to old New York,
They fed it to dear old me.
They boiled the barrel and the rest of the pork
And we had it all for tea.

From Songs of the Canallers, Hullfish
Collected from Lyman King
@canal @food @bitching
filename[ ROCKPORK
play.exe ROCKPORK
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLACK SHEEP

In a country village not so many years ago,
Lived an old and feeble man whose hairs were turning grey;
He had three  sons, three only sons, both Jack and Tom were sly,
And Ted was honest as could be and never told a lie.

The brothers then began to ruin Ted before the old man's eye
The poison soon begin to work and Ted was much despised.
One day the old man said to him, "Your're heartless to the core."
And this were the worst, as Ted explained, while standing near the door.

"Don't be angry with me, Dad, don't turn me from your door;
I know that I've been weaker, but I won't be anymore.
Just give me another chance and put me through the test,
And you'll find that the black sheep loves you, Dad, far better than the
     rest."

Year by year kept rolling on, the father growing old,
He called to him both Jack and Tom and gave to them his gold.
"All I want is a little room and a place by your fireside."
Then Jack came home one day, and brought with him a bride.

The bride began to hate the father, more and more each day.
One day he heard the three explain, "The old fool is in the way."
Then, they agreed to send him to a poorhouse that was near,
And like a flash the black sheep's words cam ringing in his ear.

"Don't be angry with me, Dad, don't turn me from your door;
I know that I've been weaker, but I won't be anymore.
Just give me another chance and put me through the test,
And you'll find that the black sheep loves you, Dad, far better than the
     rest."

A wagon rolled up to the door, it was the poorhouse van
The brothers pointed to their dad and said, "Here is the man."
Just then a man leaped from the road, came pushing through the crowd
 "Stop, stop, " the stranger cried,  "this shall not be allowed!"
"They took the old man's property and all that he had saved,
They even sold a little lot containing his wife's grave
I am his son, if you know him, from now 'til judgement day."
The old man grabbed the young man's hand, the crowd then heard him say.

"Don't be angry with me, lad, don't put me from your door;
I know that I've been foolish, but I won't be anymore.
I wish I gave to you my goldfor you have stood the test,
For I know the black sheep loves his dad, far better than the rest."

from Folk Songs out of Wisconsin, Peters
collected from Robert A. Steinback, Wausau, WI, 1941
@tearjerker @family @age
filename[ BLCKSHEP
play.exe BLCKSHEP
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
                           BLACK SOCKS

(GEDC)

Black socks, they never get dirty.
The longer you wear them, the stronger they get.
Some times I think of the laundry,
But something inside me says: "Don't send them yet."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

From the singing of Judy Cook
@kids @clothes
filename[ BLAKSOCK
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK VELVET BAND

In a neat little town they call Belfast
Apprenticed in trade I was bound
And many an hour of sweet happiness
I spent in that neat little town
Till bad misfortune befell me
And caused me to stray from the land
Far away from my friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band

  Her eyes they shone like the diamond
  You'd think she was queen of the land
  And her hair hung over her shoulder
  Tied up in a black velvet band

Well, I was out strolling one evening
Not meaning to go very far
When I met with a pretty young damsel
She was selling her trade in a bar
When I watched, she took from a customer
And slipped it right into my hand
Then the Watch came and put me in prison
Bad luck to the black velvet band

Next morning before judge and jury
For our trial I had to appear
The judge, he said, "Young fellow
The case against you is quite clear
And seven years is your sentence
You're going to Van Dieman's Land
Far away from your friends and relations
To follow the black velvet band"

So come all you jolly young fellows
I'd have you take warning by me
And whenever you're out on the liquor
Beware of the pretty colleen
They'll fill your with whiskey and porter
Until You're not able to stand
And the very next thing that you know
You're landed in Van Dieman's Land

@outlaw @drink @Irish @Australia
recorded by the Irish Rovers
filename[ BLKVEL2
play.exe BLACKVEL
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK VELVET BAND

In a neat little town they call Belfast
An apprentice boy I was bound
And many's the happy hour
I have spent in that neat little town
But bad misfortune o'ertook me
And caused me to stray from the land
Far away from my friends and relations,
Betrayed by the black velvet band

Oh, one evening late as I rambled
Not meaning to go very far,
When I met with a gay young deceiver
She was plyin' her trade in a bar.
Oh, her eyes they shone like the diamonds
And I thought her the pride of the land
And her hair hung over her shoulders
Tied up with a black velvet band.
Oh, one evening a flashman, a watchman
She happened to meet on the sly
I could tell that her mind it was altered
By the roll of her roving dark eye
Oh, that watch she took from his pocket
She slipped it right into my hand
Then she gave me in charge to the policeman
Bad luck to the black velvet band

Now before the Lord Mayor I was taken
My guilt they proved quite plain
And he said if I was not mistaken
I should have to cross the salt main
Now its sixteen long years have they gave me
To plough upon Van Dieman's land
Far away from my friends and relations
A curse on the black velvet band

So come all ye jolly young fellows,
I'll have ye take warning from me
Whenever you're out on the liquor,
Beware of them pretty colleens.
They'll treat you to whiskey and porter,
Till you are not able to stand;
And the very next thing that you know, my lads,
You'll end up in Van Dieman's land.
recorded by Clancys

@love @outlaw @Irish
filename[ BLACKVEL
play.exe BLACKVEL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK WATER SIDE

On a bright summer's morning as I went a-walking
Viewing the streams that gently did flow,
As the bright sun arose, the hills did adorn
Surrounding the banks of the Black Water Side.
     Says he, "My dearest jewel, it's long we have courted,
     We're both fit for marriage, I solemnly vow,
     And if you're inclined in wedlock to join,
     Either `Yes' or `No' you must answer me now."

She says, "I'm oppressed and quite in distress.
I'm quite unprepared to answer you now.
My fortune is low, as you very well know,
And to be your bride, you know I'm not fit.
     I had some friends went to America
     And with my old mother, I mean to reside.
     I'll here take my lot in this low little cot
     On the lovely sweet banks of the Black Water Side."
"Well, if you do, you may happen to rue.
I've another in view that won't me deny.
To labor in vain, I'll not ask again
I'm not set on coaxing, as you may rely.
     I gave you the proffer. Accept as the offer
     In wee bans of wedlock, we soon would be tied.
     You know I adore you and praise none before you,
     You blooming sweet maid of the Black Water Side.

"At the age of sixteen, if she's handsome and clean
As for her fortune, I'm sure I don't care;
As for her clothing, it never will grieve me.
With you I'd range this world so wide.
     -----------------------
     -----------------------
     You're the maid I admire, so grant my desire,
     It's you I require from the Black Water Side."

This maid she arose. To her mother she goes
Telling the story as plain as you see.
She got her consent and away they both went.
They were joined in Wedlock's sweet unity.
     Their health did increase and troubles grew less.
     In peace and in happiness they both do reside.
     The truth I am telling. You will find their dwelling
     On the lovely sweet banks of the Black Water Side.

From Ballads Migrant in New England, Flanders
Collected from James Shephard, Baltimore VT 1933

@courting
filename[ BLKWTR2
play.exe BLKWTR2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK WATERS
(Jean Ritchie)

  A                        E          A
I come from the mountains, Kentucky's my home
                                      E          A
Where the wild deer and black bear so lately did roam
       D                                      A
By the cool rushing waterfall the wildflowers dream
                                   E
And through every green valley, there runs a clear stream
            A                        D
Now there's scenes of destruction on every hand
A                         E            A
And only black waters run down through my land

       D                              A
   Sad scenes of destruction on every hand
                                   E            A
   Black waters, black waters, run down through my land


Well, the quail, she's a pretty bird and she sings a sweet tongue
In the roots of tall timber she nests with her young
The the hillside explodes with the dynamites roar
And the voice of the small bird is heard there no more
And the mountain comes a sliding so awful and grand
And the flooding black waters rise over my land

In the coming of springtime we planted our corn
In the ending of springtime we buried our son
In the summer come a nice man saying everything's fine
My employer just requires a way to his mine
Then they tore down my mountain and covered my corn
Now the grave on the hillside 's a mile deeper down
And the man stands a talking with his hat in his hand
While the poison black waters rise over my land

Well I ain't got no money, not much of a home
I own my own land, but my land's not my own
But, if I had ten million, somewheres thereabout
Well, I'd buy Perry county and throw them all out
And just sit down on the banks with my bait and my can
And watch the clear waters run down through my land

   Well, wouldn't that be just like the old promised land?
   Black waters, black waters no more in my land
   Black waters, black waters no more in my land

Copyright Geordie Music Publishing, Inc.
recorded by Jean Ritchie
@environment @miner @water
filename[ BLAKWATR
play.exe BLAKWATR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK, WHITE, YELLOW AND GREEN

There was an old woman, she kept fat hogs
She made plum puddings, they poisoned the dogs
They were black, white, yellow and green

  Black, white, yellow and green
  The rarest plum puddings you ever have seen
  They were black, white, yellow and green

She took them and dropped them into the pot
She boiled them until they were blazing hot
They were black, white, yellow and green

She baked them until they were blazing red
One was like leather, the other like lead
They were black, white, yellow and green

She took up a pin and pricked the skin
The gravy ran out and the maggots ran in
They were black, white, yellow and green

She took them and put them down on the floor
They each in turn ran out of the door
They were black, white, yellow and green

She took them and put them up on the shelf
If you want any more, you can help yourself
They were black, white, yellow and green

@food @color
sung by Roy Harris
filename[ BLWHYGR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK-EYED MARY

It was a Sunday mornin',
So early I arose
An' went to see my true love
It was my heart's delight (repose)

My true love she is handsome,
Both proper, neat an' small,
They say that she's good-natured,
An' that's the best of all.

Her hair is black as a raven
Her eyes are black as a crow,
Her cheeks resembles roses
All in the mornin' glow.

It was on Sunday mornin'
I passed my true love by,
I seen her mind was changin'
By the movement of her eye.

I seen her mind was changin',
Some other love degree,
I seen her mind was changin'
Most bitterly from me.

Oh Mary, don't you remember
You give me your hand an' said,
If ever you was married
That I should be the man?

But now you got your liberty
To wed with who you please,
While my poor heart is breakin'
You're a-restin'at your ease.

While sailin' o'er the deep, boys,
While sailin' o'er the deep,
I think of black-eyed Mary
Just as I go to sleep.

From Ozark Folksongs, Randolph
@infidelity @parting @love
filename[ HNDSMOL2
play.exe HNDSMOL2
play.exe HNDSMOL2.2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACK-EYED SUSIE

cho: Hey, black-eyed Susie
     Hey, pretty little black-eyed Susie
     Hey, Black-eyed Susie,
     Hey

All I want in this creation
'S a pretty little wife and a big plantation

Black-eyed Susie, 'bout half-grown
Jumps on a boy like a dog on a bone.


I got drunk and I got woozy
I woke up with black-eyed Susie

Susie and the boys went berry pickin'
Boys got drunk and Susie got a lickin'
Susie and the boys they went corn shuckin'
Boys got drunk and Susie got another lickin'

All I need to make me happy
'S two little boys to call me pappy.

@fiddle @banjo
filename[ BLKEYESZ
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACKBIRD
(John Lennon/Paul McCartney)

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly.
All your life,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night,
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see.
All your life,
You were only waiting for this moment to be free.

Black-bird, fly.
Black-bird, fly...
Into the light of a dark, black night.

copyright Northern Songs, Ltd.
@bird
filename[ BLACKBIR
SP
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACKBIRD

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly Blackbird fly
Into the light of a dark, black night

@bird
filename[ BLKBIRD
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLACKFLY SONG
(Wade Hemsworth)

'Twas early in the spring when I decide to go,
For to work up in the woods in North Ontario;
And the unemployment office said they'd see me through
To the Little Abitibi with the survey crew.

cho: And the black flies, the little black flies
     Always the black fly no matter where you go
     I'll die with the black fly a-pickin' on my bones
     In North Ontario, io, in North Ontario.

Now the man Black Toby was the captain of the crew,
And he said "I'm gonna tell you boys what we're gonna do;
The want to build a power dam and we must find a way
For to make the little Ab flow around the other way."

cho:
So we survey to the east and we survey to the west,
And we couldn't make our minds up how to do it best.
Little Ab, Little Ab, what shall I do?
For I'm all but goin' crazy on the survey crew.

cho:

It was blackfly, blackfly, blackfly, everywhere,
A-crawlin in your whiskers, a- crawlin in your hair;
A-swimmin' in the soup and a-swimmin' in the tea
Oh the Devil take the blackfly and leave me be.

cho:

Black Toby fell to swearin' cuz the work went slow,
And the state of our morale was a-gettin' mighty low,
And the flies swarmed heavy; it was hard to catch a breath,
As you staggered up and down the trail, talkin' to yourself.

cho:
Now the bull cook's name was Blind River Joe;
If it hadn't been for him, we'd've never pulled through.
For he bound up our bruises and he kidded us for fun,
And he lathered us with bacon grease and balsam gum.

cho:

At last the job was over; Black Toby said "We're through
With the Little Abitibi and the survey crew."
T'was a wonderful experience and this I know,
I'll never go again to North Ontario.

cho:

rec. by author on "Folksongs of the Canadian North Woods"
(Folkways) and Jon Bartlett & Rika Ruebsaat, "The Green
Fields of Canada" (Canadian Folk Workshop)
Copyright Southern Music Publishing Co.
@animal
filename[ BLAKFLY
play.exe BLAKFLY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACKJACK DAVEY

Blackjack Davey came riding by,
Whistling so merrily
He made the woods all around him ring
And he charmed the heart of a lady
And he charmed the heart of a lady

Come with me my pretty little one,
Come with me my honey
I swear by the beard upon my face
You'll never want for money
You'll never want for money

She took off her high heeled boots,
Made of spanish leather
Jumped behind him on his horse
And they rode off together
And they rode off together
That night her husband, he came home,
Looking for his lady
The maid she spoke before she thought
She's gone with the Blackjack Davey
She's gone with the Blackjack Davey

Saddle me up my coal black steed,
The white one's not so speedy
I rode all day, and I'll ride all night
And I'll overtake my lady
And I'll overtake my lady

He rode all night till the broad daylight,
The come to the river shady
And there he spied his own sweet bride
In the arms of Blackjack Davey
In the arms of Blackjack Davey

Would you forsake your house and home,
Would you forsake your baby
Would you forsake your own wedded lord
To ride with the Blackjack Davey
To ride with the Blackjack Davey

Last night I slept in a goosefeather bed,
Beside my husband and baby
Tonight I sleep on the cold, cold ground
In the arms of Blackjack Davey
In the arms of Blackjack Davey

A new world version of the traditional Gypsy Davey song with a
tune from Almeda Riddle.
Child #200
filename[ BLCKJCK2
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACKJACK DAVID

Blackjack David is the name that I bear
Been alone in the forest for a long time
But the time is come, and when a lady I find
I will love her and hold her, singing through the green green
     trees

The skin on my hands is like leather, alright.
My face is so hard from the cold wind
But my heart's so warm with the song that I sing
Will charm a fair lady, singing through the green green trees

Now fair Eloise rode out that day
From her fine fine home in the morning
In the flush of dawn, came a sound to her ear
Drifting, floating, singing through the green green trees

Now sixteen summers was all that she'd seen
And her skin was soft a velvet
But she's forsaken her fine fine home
And Blackjack David is singing through the green green trees

Saddle me up my fine grey mare
Cried the lord of the house next morning
For my servants tell me that my daughter is gone
With Blackjack David, singing through the green green trees

Well he rode all day and he rode all night
But he never did find his daughter
But he heard from afar, come drift on the wind
Two voices, laughing, singing through the green green trees

Oh, Blackjack David is the name that I bear
Been alone in the forest for a long time
But now I've found me a lady so fair
And I love her, hold her, singing through the green green trees

----------------------------------------------------------------

This version of the Gypsy Davey ballad was done by the Incredible
String Band (Mike Heron put the words together with this catchy
tune) on their "I looked up" album one the Electra EKS-74061
label.
Child #200
@gypsy @love
filename[ BLKJKDAV
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLACKLEG MINERS

Oh, early in the evenin', just after dark,
The blackleg miners creep te wark,
Wi' their moleskin trousers an' dorty short,
There go the backleg miners !

They take their picks an' doon they go
Te dig the coal that lies belaw,
An' there's not a woman in this toon-aw*
Will look at a blackleg miner.

Oh, Delaval is a terrible place.
They rub wet clay in a blackleg's face,
An' roond the pit-heaps they run a foot
Wi' the dorty blackleg miners.

Now, don't go near the Seghill mine.
Across the way they stretch a line,
Te catch the throat an' break the spine
O' the dorty backleg miners.

They'll take your tools an' duds as well,
An' hoy them doon the pit o' hell.
It's doon ye go, an' fare ye well,
Ye dorty blackleg miners !

Se join the union while ye may.
Don't wait till your dyin' day,
For that may not be far away,
Ye dorty blackleg miners !

*toon-raw = town-row
Note: A black-leg is a scab.
From Folk Song in England, LLoyd
@English @union @miner @work @scab
filename[ BLAKLEG
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLACKSMITH

A blacksmith courted me, nine months and better.
He fairly won my heart, wrote me a letter.
With his hammer in his hand, he looked so clever,
And if I was with my love, I'd live forever.

And where is my love gone, with his cheek like roses,
And his good black billycock on, decked with primroses?
I'm afraid the scorching sun will shine and burn his beauty,
And if I was with my love, I'd do my duty.

Strange news is come to town, strange news is carried,
Strange news flies up and down that my love is married.
I wish them both much joy, though they don't hear me
And may God reward him well for the slighting of me.

'What did you promise when you sat beside me?
You said you would marry me, and not deny me.'
'If I said I'd marry you, it was only for to try you,
So bring your witness, love, and I'll never deny you.'

'Oh, witness have I none save God Almighty.
And He'll reward you well for slighting of me.'
Her lips grew pale and white, it made her poor heart tremble
To think she loved one, and he proved deceitful.

Sung by Mrs. Powell, nr Weobley, Herefordshire (R.V.W. 1909)
@English @love @parting @work
filename[ BLAKSMT2
play.exe BLAKSMIT
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACKSMITH COURTED ME

A blacksmith courted me, I loved him dearly
He played upon his pipes both neat and trimly
With his hammer in his hand he strikes so steady
He makes the sparks to fly all round his smithy

I love to watch my love with his hammer swinging
I love to hear it fall on the anvil ringing
The note is loud and clear, the sparks are flying
My love is handsome then, there's no denying

My love's at the bellows now, the fire is roaring
It's getting mighty hot the flames are soaring
Nothing can be more gay when the flames are going
And at night 'tis bright as day when my love is blowing

Where is my love a-gone with his cheeks like roses?
He's gone across the fields gathering primroses
The sun does shine too clear, it will burn his beauty
I will go seek my love to do my duty

Strange news is come to town, strange news is carried
Strange news flies up and down: my love is married
I wish him joy though he's my love no longer
For I love my old love still, my blacksmith yonder

What did you promise me when you lay beside me?
You promised to marry me and not deny me
It's witness I've got none but the Almighty
And he will punish you for slighting of me

I looked in a glass, my head I shaked
To think I loved a lad who was false-hearted
I wish him well to do, he does not hear me
I shall not die for love, he need not fear me

@courting  @work
see also BRAVWOLF
Printed in Seeds of Love by Stephen Sedley
Collected by Cecil Sharp from a York broadside c 1825
sometimes a shoemaker (recorded by Steel Eye Span?)
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLACKWATERSIDE

One evening rare, I took the air
Down by Blackwaterside
And in gazing all around me
The Irish lad I spied

All for the first part of that night
We two did sport and play
Then that young man arose and gathered his clothes
Saying, "Fare thee well today"

That's not the promise that you gave to me
When you lay upon my breast
For you made me believe with your lying tongue
That the sun rose in the west

Go home, go home, to your father's garden
Go home and cry your fill
And think on your misfortune
That you've wrought with your wanton will

There's not one girl in this whole world
So easily led as I
The fishes will fly and the seas will run dry
Sure, it's then that you'll marry I

@courting
sung by Jean Redpath
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SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLANTYRE EXPLOSION

By Clyde's bonny banks where I sadly did wander
Among the pit heaps as evening drew nigh;
I spied a young woman all dressed in deep mourning
A-weeping and wailing with many a sigh.

I stepped up beside her and thus I addressed her:
"Pray tell me the cause of your trouble and pain."
Weeping and sighing, at last she made answer
"Johnny Murphy, kind sir, was my true lover's name."

"Twenty-one years of age, full of youth and good looking
To work down the mines of High Blantyre he came,
The wedding was fixed, all the guests were invited
That calm summer evening young Johnny was slain.

The explosion was heard, all the women and children
With pale anxious faces they haste to the mine.
When the truth was made known, the hills rang with their mourning
Three-hundred-and-ten young miners were slain.

Now husbands and wives and sweethearts and brothers
That Blantyre explosion they'll never forget;
And all the young miners that hear my sad story
Shed a tear for the victims who're laid to their rest.

From Songs and Dances of Scotland, Thomson
@Scots @miner  @disaster
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLEEDING HEARTS
(Si Kahn)


            A
Who's that new guy
                            D
Just can't learn to weld a fender
             A
Where's old Eddie
                        E
That could do it every time
          A
Fourteen years
            A
And he just empties out his locker
 D
Rolls on out the gate and says,
                         A
"I'll see you boys some time."


                      Dmi
        But now he's lying

        On some rocky Spanish mountain
                               Bb
        With his rifle on his shoulder
                                      A
        And his heart pinned to his sleeve
                   Dmi
        'Cross the valley
                                C
        As he sights along the barrel
                                Bb
        He can see the distant outlines
                                 A
        Of the things that he believes

He was never
The one who made the speeches
Down at Chrysler
Where we fought 'em from the line
Eddie never
Got his picture in the paper
He was never out in front
But he was always right behind

        But now he's lying
        On some rocky Spanish mountain
        With his rifle on his shoulder
        And his heart pinned to his sleeve
        'Cross the valley
        As he sights along the barrel
        He can see the distant outlines
        Of the things that he believes

Don't you think
That there's something inside people
Like a spring
That life winds up so tight
Till one day
Something snaps and all the power
That's been coiled up inside them
Comes breaking through like light

        But now he's lying
        On some bloody Spanish mountain
        With his rifle bent and smoking
        And his heart that pumps and bleeds
        Through the dying
        He can feel the future rushing
        And it feels a little closer
        To the things that he believes

--------------------------------------------
copyright Joe Hill Music 1982
recorded by Si Kahn on "Doing My Job" (1982)

This is my favourite Si Kahn song because words and music together create
a very dense atmosphere. If you can get your guitar to play some
Flamenco chords in the chorus, you may get there.

The song is about an American member of the International Brigade in the
Spanish Civil War 1936-39.

@war @union @death @Spanish @work
filename[ BLEEDHRT
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL (9)

Bless 'em all!   Bless 'em all!
The long and the short and the tall!
Bless all the Sergeants we have to obey,
Bless all the corp'rals who drill us all day,
'Cos we're saying goodbye to them all,
As back to their barracks they crawl
No ice cream and cookies for flat-footed rookies
Cheer up, my lads  Bless 'em all.

Bless 'em all!   Bless 'em all!
The long and the short and the tall!
Bless the Commander whose deck we must scrub;
Bless the Chief Steward who hands out the grub
Though we'd rather be caught in a squall
Than dine on that wormwood and gall
Forget all those notions, you're sailing the oceans
So cheer up, my lads, Bless 'em all!

Bless 'em all!   Bless 'em all!
The long and the short and the tall!
Bless the instructors who teach us to dive,
Bless all our stars that we still are alive,
For if ever the engine should stall,
We're in for one hell of a fall;
No champagne or vi'lets for dead fighter pilots
So cheer up, my lads, Bless 'em all!

Bless 'em all!   Bless 'em all!
The long and the short and the tall!
Bless all the posters with beautiful scenes
They swore we would see if we joined the Marines
'Cos we ain't seen no scenery at all
Except what we scrawl on the wall,
O what if we suffer, Marines have it tougher
So cheer up, my lads, Bless 'em all!

Bless 'em all!  Bless 'em all!
The long and the short and the tall!
Bless all the nurses when you're in dry dock
You know that your temp'rature's firm as a rock
But when one grabs your pulse you feel small,
And you know that you've had a close call,
So don't lose your head, just be glad you're in bed
And cheer up, my lads, Bless 'em all!

@war @WWII @America
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DI
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL (British Army WWII)

There's many a troopship just leavin' Bombay
Bound for old Blighty's shore;
Heavily laden with time-expired men
Bound for the land they adore.
There's many a soldier just finished 'is time
And many a twerp signin' on;
They'll get no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all

cho: Bless 'em all! Bless 'em all!
     The long and the short and the tall
     Bless all the sergents and WO/1s
     Bless all the corporals and their blinkin' sons
     For we're sayin' goodbye to 'em all
     As back to the barracks they crawl,
     You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean
     So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all
They say if you work hard you'll get better pay
We've 'eard it all before;
Clean up your buttons and polish your boots
Scrup out the barrack-room floor
There's many a swaddie 'as taken it in
'Ook line and sinker and all
They'll get no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all

They say that the sergeant's a very nice bloke
Oh! what a tale to tell!
Ask 'im for leave on a Saturday night
'E'll pay yer fare 'ome as well.
There's many a swaddie 'as blighted 'is life
Through writing rude words on the wall,
You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all

Officers don't worry me,
Officers don't worry me;
Bell-bottom trousers with stripes down the side
Whacking big pockets with damn-all inside
But we're saying goodby to them all
As back to their billings they crael,
You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all

Recorded by Ewan MacColl, British Army Songs
@English @army @bitching
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL (USAF Bombadiers WW lI)

A crippled old Fortress was leaving the Ruhr
Bound for old Blimy's shore
Holes in the fuselage, holes in the wings
Blood all over the floor
Many a Focke Wulf filled her with lead
Many a Messerschmitt, too,
Shot off her bollocks, shot up her hydraulics
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all.

(usual chorus)
@war @airplane
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL (USAF-Korea)

Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
The long and the short and the tall
Bless old man Lockheed for building this jet
But l know a guy who is cursing him yet
For he tried to go over the wall
With his tiptanks, his tailpipes and all
The needles did cross and the wings did come off
So cheer up my lads. bless 'em all.

Well, bless 'em all. bless 'em all
The needle, the airspeed and ball
Bless all those instructors who taught me to fly
Sent me to solo and left me to die
If ever your blow jet should stall
Well, you're due for one hell of a fall
No lilies or violets for dead fighter pilots
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all.
Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
The long and the short and the tall
Bless all the sergeants and their bloody sons
Bless all the corporals, the fat-headed ones
I'm saying goodbye to them all
The long and the short and the tall
Here's to you and lots others, you can shove it up brothers
I'm going back home in the fall.

From There I was, flat on my back... Bob Stevens
@airplane @army
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL - AIRBORNE

Thousands of gliders were leaving their base,
Bound for a foreign shore;
Heavily laden with my pals and me,
Going by air 'cos we daren't go by sea
So we're saying goodbye to them all
As into our gliders we crawl,
We are lucky fellers ---we've got no propellers
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all.

note: Hours before the naval invasion of Normandy on D-Day (June 6
1944), advance parties of airborne infantry were landed behind
the German lines in a fleet of gliders to help disrupt the German
defense.
@WWII @America  @flying @war @battle
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL - CORVETTES

Bless 'em all, bless 'em all,
These bloody corvettes are too small.
In a rough sea they'll heave and they'll pitch
They'll make you as sick as a son-of-a-bitch
And it's up on the railing you'll sprawl,
And spew up that good alcohol,
You'll finish the war on this one-funneled whore
So cheer up, my lads, bless 'em all.

From: Songs From the Front and Rear, Hopkins
Note: Corvettes were small ships, measuring 200 by 33 feet wide.
  The US called them subchasers. RG

@Canada @navy @war @bitching
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL - LANCASTERS

A Lancaster leaving the Ruhr
Bound for old Blighty shore,
Heavily laden with flak-frightened crew
Scared stiff (Shit-scared) and prone on the floor.
There's many a bomber long finished his tour
There's many a plonk signing on
We'll get no promotioon this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads, bless 'em all.

From: Songs from the Front & Rear, Hopkins
@English @WWII @airplane @war
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL - MUSTANG PILOTS

Now they say there's a convoy leaves New York tonight,
Bound for old England's shore
Heavily laden with browned-off young men
Bound for the land they "adore".
Now they all know their Mustangs are keen as can be
To catch a Focke-Wolf in their sights
They're experts at moaning and bitching and groaning
When everything's going just right.

cho: Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
     The needle, the airspeed, the ball
     (They sent us to school just to teach us to fly)
     They sent us to solo and left us to die
     And if ever your fighter should stall
     You're in for one helluva fall
     No lilies and violets for dead fighter pilots
     So cheer up, my lads, bless 'em all.
     (Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
     The needle, the airspeed, the ball)
     Bless all the harness that fastens us in
     Bless all the radio's ear-splitting din.
     So we'll loop and we'll roll and we'll dive
     'Til we are more dead than alive;
     No future in flying, unless you like dying
     So cheer up, my lads, bless 'em all.

From The Wild Blue Yonder, Getz (Missing words supplied by RG
     memory)
@army @airplane @war @bitching
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS  'EM ALL - WELLINGTONS

Worry me, worry me
Wellingtons don't worry me.
Oil-chewing bastards with flaps on their wings,
Buggered-up pistons and buggered-up rings,
The bomb-load is so fucking small
Four-fifths of five-eighths of fuck-all,
There'll be such a commotion when we're over the ocean
So cheer up my lads, fuck 'em all.

Note: The RAF Wellington bomber (two engines, 4500 pound bomb
 load) was nicknamed Wimpy. It was slow, messy and fuel-hungry,
 but it was all the Brits had in the early stages of the war.

From: Songs from the Front & Rear, Hopkins
@Canada   @WWII @war @airplane @bitching
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESS 'EM ALL -U.S. MARINES WWII VERSION

Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
The long and the short and the tall,
There'll be no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads bless 'em all

We sent for the Army to come to Tulagi
But General McArthur said no,
I'll tell you the reason it isn't the season
Besides you've got no USO.

Well we sent for the Navy to come to Tulagi
The dear little Navy agreed,
In ten thousand sections from eighteen directions
Oh Lord what a screwed up stampede.

Then we sent for the Air Force to come to Tulagi
The Air Force appeared on the scene,
And They bombed out two donkeys, five horses three monkeys
And seven platoons of Gyrenes.

Then we sent for the Coast Guard to come to Tulagi
And waited for them to appear,
They sent back a letter we like it here better
But maybe we'll make it next year.

Then we sent for the nurses to come to Tulagi
The nurses they made it with ease,
Their arse on the table each bearing this label
Reserved for the officers please.

Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
Bless 'em all, bless 'em all
The long and the short and the tall,
Bless all the sergeants and corporals too
Bless all the privates and above all bless you

So we're saying good bye to them all
As back to our fox holes we'll crawl,
There'll be no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up my lads bless 'em all.

From Tell It to the Marines, Oscar Brand
@war @America
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLESSED ARE THE MEEK

Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit.
Blessed is the lamb whose blood flows.
Blessed are the sat upon, spat upon rat-ted on.
O Lord, why have you forsaken me?
I got no place to go.
I've walked around Soho for the last night or so.
Ah, but it doesn't matter, no.

Blessed is the land and the kingdom.
Blessed is the man whose soul belongs to.
Blessed are the meth drinkers, pot sellers illusion dwellers.
O Lord, why have you forsaken me?
My words trickle down.
Like a wound that I have no intention to heal.

Blessed are the stained glass, windowpane glass.
Blessed is the church service makes me nervous.
Blessed are the penny rookers, cheap hookers, groovy lookers.
O Lord, why have you forsaken me?
I have tended my own garden
Much too long.

filename[ BLESMEEK
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLIND BEGGAR'S DAUGHTER

It's of a blind beggar who had lost his sight,
He had but one daughter most beautiful bright.
"May I seek my fortune, dear father?" said she,
And the favour was granted to pretty Betsy.

She started from Romford,  as I have heard say,
And arrived in London that very same day.
She's the fairest of creatures that I've ever seen,
Was the blind beggar's daughter of Bethnal Green.

She had not been there a very long time,
Before some rich lord a-courting her came.
"Your silks shall be lined with jewels," said he,
"If you can but love me, my charming Betsy."

"Oh! that I am willing to do then," said she;
"But first ask the father of charming Betsy."
"And who is your father?  Come tell unto me,
That I may go with you your father to see."

"My father is every day to be seen,
He is call'd the blind beggar of Bethnal Green,
He is call 'd the blind beggar,  God knows him " said she
"And he has been a good father to his daughter Betsy."

The lord was amazed that such things should be.
"You blind beggar's daughter,  you won't do for me.
No blind beggar's daughter my lady shan't be."
And he scornfully turned from charming Betsy.

Then up stepp'd another, a lad of high birth,
"Your blind beggar's daughter she's never the worse,
Her silks shall be lined with jewels, " said he,
And I will go with her her father to see."

They started from London,  as I have heard say,
And arrived in Romford the very same day,
And when they came there her father to see,
How gladly he heard of his daughter Betsy.

"My daughter's not clothed in velvet and pearl,
But I will drop guineas with you for my girl."
So they dropp'd and they dropp'd each a guinea on the ground,
Until they had each dropp'd quite three thousand pounds.

And when the young squire had dropp'd all his store,
He said,  "Loving father,  I can drop no more,"
"Then take her and make her your lady so bright,
And lords, dukes and squires this wedding will spite.

And when you are married then I will lay down,
A thousand bright guineas to buy her a gown."
Then the squire made answer,  "Contented we'll be,
There's none can compare with charming Betsy."

Now all things being ready to join hand in hand,
William and Betsy were tied in a band.
A more beautiful bride there never was seen,
Than the blind beggar's daughter of Bethnal Green.

From The Constant Lovers, Purslow
@beg @courting  @marriage
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLIND FIDDLER

I lost my eyes in the blacksmith's shop in the year of 56
While dusting out a T planch which was out of fix
It bounded from my tongs and there concealed my doom
I am a blind fiddler and far from my home

I've been to San Francisco, I've been to Dr. Lane
He operated on one of my eyes but nothing could he gain
He told me that I'd never see and it's no cause to mourn
I am a blind fiddler and far from my home

I have a wife and three little ones depending now on me
To share all my troubles, whatever they may be
I hope that they'll be careful while I'm compelled to roam
I am a blind fiddler and far from my home

dates back to about 1850, according to Sing Out (source of these
words), through Mrs. Emma Dusenberry.  American.
recorded by Joe Hickerson
@miner  @work
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLINK OVER THE BURN, SWEET BETTY

Blink over the burn sweet Betty,
 It is a cauld winter night;
It rains, it hails, it thunders,
 The moon she gies nae light:
It's a' for the sake o' sweet Betty,
 That ever I tint my way;
Sweet, let me lie beyond thee
 Until it be break o'day.

O, Betty will bake my bread,
 And Betty will brew my ale
And Betty will be my love,
 When I come over the dale:
Blink over the burn, sweet Betty,
 Blink over the burn to ine,
And while I hae life dear lassie,
 My ain sweet Betty thou's be.
Recalled by Robert Burns as two verses of "old words"
@Scots @love
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLIZZARD OF LIES

We must have lunch real soon.  Your luggage is checked through.
We've got inflation licked.  I'll get right back to you.
It's just a standard form.  Tomorrow without fail.
Pleased to meet you.  Thanks a lot.  Your check is in the mail.

     Marooned, marooned, marooned in a blizzard of lies.
     Marooned, marooned, marooned in a blizzard of lies.
     Your toes and knees aren't all you'll freeze
     When you're in it up to your thighs.
     It looks like snow, but you never know
      When you're marooned in a blizzard of lies.

You may have won a prize.  Won't wrinkle, shrink or peel.
Your secret's safe with me.  This is a real good deal.
It's finger lickin' good.  Strictly by the book.
What's fair is fair.  I'll be right there.  I am not a crook.

     Marooned, marooned, marooned in a blizzard of lies.
     Marooned, marooned, marooned in a blizzard of lies.
     Better watch your step when your old dog Shep
     Can't even look you in the eyes.
     You're cold and lost and you're double crossed
     When you're marooned in a blizzard of lies.

We'll send someone right out.  Now this won't hurt a bit.
He's in a meeting now.   The coat's a perfect fit.
It's strictly fresh today.  Service with a smile.
I'll love you darling 'till I die.  We'll keep your name on file.
     Marooned, marooned, marooned in a blizzard of lies.
     Marooned, marooned, marooned in a blizzard of lies.
     Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart.
     And you're in for a big surprise.
     When you're marooned, marooned, marooned
         marooned, marooned, marooned,
         marooned, marooned, marooned in a blizzard of lies.
     A blizzard of lies.

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Written by D & S (Josh) Frishberg
Recorded by the Short Sisters on "The Short Sisters Short Tape",
     copyright 1985 by Black Socks press.
filename[ BLIZLIES
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOOD ON THE SADDLE

There was blood on the saddle, blood all around
And a great big puddle of blood on the ground

The cowboy lay in it, all covered with gore
He'll never ride tall in the saddle no more

Oh pity the cowboy, all bloody and dead
A bronco fell on him and mashed in his head

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Recorded by Tony Kraber in the dark ages (Folkway or Stimson, I
think...RG)
@cowboy @death @work
filename[ BLOODON
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOOD RED ROSES

Our boots and clothes are all in pawn
     Go down, you blood red roses, Go down.
And its flamin' drafty 'round Cape Horn,
     Go down, you blood red roses, Go down.

cho: Oh, you pinks and posies,
     Go down, you blood red roses, Go down.

My dear old mother said to me,
My dearest son, come home from sea.

It's 'round Cape Horn we all must go
'Round Cape Horn in the frost and snow.

You've got your advance, and to sea you'll go
To chase them whales through the frost and snow.

It's 'round Cape Horn you've got to go,
For that is where them whalefish blow.

It's growl you may, but go you must,
If you growl too much your head they'll bust.

Just one more pull and that will do
For we're the boys to kick her through.

Recorded by Louis Killen- 50 South, also MacColl and LLoyd
@sailor @whale
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLOOD-STRAINED BANDERS

If you want to go to heaven
Just over on the other shore,
Keep out the way of the blood-strained banders
O good Shepherd, feedin' my sheep.

cho: Some for Paul, some for Silas
     Some for to make-a my heart rejoice;
     Don't you hear lambs a-cryin'?
     O good Shepherd, feedin' my sheep.

If you want to go to heaven
Just over on the other shore,
Keep out the way of the gunshot devils
O good Shepherd, feedin' my sheep.

If you want to go to heaven
Just over on the other shore,
Keep out the way of the long-tongued liars
O good Shepherd, feedin' my sheep.

From Our Singing Country, Lomax. Collected from Lightnin'
   Washington, TX 1933
Note: Should be "blood-stained", of course. AJS
@religion
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOODY ORKNEY

This bloody town's a bloody cuss
No bloody trains, no bloody bus
And no one thinks of bloody us
     In bloody Orkney.

The bloody folk are bloody mad
The bloody roads are bloody bad
Good night the bright is bloody sad
     In bloody Orkney.

Oh bloody crows, Oh bloody rain
No bloody kerbs, no bloody drains
The council's got no bloody brains
     In bloody Orkney.

The bloody things are bloody dear
A bloody bob for a bloody beer
And is it good? No bloody fear
     In bloody Orkney.

The bloody dances make you smile
The bloody bands are bloody vile
It only cramps your bloody style
     In bloody Orkney.

The bloody flicks are bloody old
The bloody seats are bloody cold,
You can't get in for bloody gold
     In bloody Orkney.

No bloody fun, no bloody games
No bloody times. The bloody dames
Won't even give their bloody names
     In bloody Orkney.

There's nothing greets your bloody eye
But bloody sea and bloody sky
Roll on the mob! we bloody cry
     In bloody Orkney.

@complaint
filename[ BLDYORK
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOODY ROTTEN AUDIENCE
(Tony Miles)

Well, here's a song I've written specifically for you
Who sit in the audience and talk through all I do
I cannot understand it cause I'm pretty good, you see
So there must be something wrong with you, there's nothing wrong with me

Ch.:    You're a bloody rotten audience whilst I am very good
        If brains were made of oak and ash then you'd have balsa wood
        I'm ethnic and authentic and I'm really full of class
        While you're ignorant, you're cultureless, you're philistines
                en masse.

I'm an artist and authority on music and what's more
I'm incredible informative on folksong and folklore
I'm a wonderful performer and so you all must be
So bloody thick and stupid not to like the like of me

I'm a folkie and that's obvious, you can tell it by me clothes
And when I sing traditional, I sing it through me nose
And if you insist on talking everytime I sing a song
I'll fix you with 'Bold Robin Hood', that's eighty verses long.

And when I sing contemporary, my heart and soul is pure
I must be bloody brilliant, cause my writing's so obscure
My hero's Leonard Cohen, I dig him perfectly
But I must be so much better, cause no-one here digs me.

But now I'm going to leave you, cause I feel I'm wasting time
Couldn't possibly be wasting yours, so you must be wasting mine
And let me tell you now that I'm not out here for me health
So if you don't come and pull with me, I'll go and pull meself

Ch.:    You're a bloody rotten audience whilst I am very good
        If brains were made of oak and ash then you'd have balsa wood
        I'm ethnic and authentic and I'm really full of class
        But underneath it all I'm just a pain in the flipping ass.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Eric Bogle & John Munro on "Plain And Simple"

A brilliant satire on the attitude of so many charlatan folksingers
who spoil the folk club scene with their amateurish and elitist attitude,
especially true for British folk clubs.

@humor @music @folk @complaint
filename[ ROTNAUD
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOODY WATERLOO

Was a lady was a-walkin alang the banks o Clyde,
The tears ran doon her rosy cheeks as I passed by her side;
I saw her bosom heavin, her voice was low and true
She wis weepin for her Willie lad, who sailed for Waterloo.

As a soldier was a-walking, he did a fair maid spy,
He says, "My love, what aileth thee? thy bosom doth heave high
"I've lost my ain dear Willie, the lad I do lo'e true,
And A hanna heard frae Willie since he sailed for Waterloo. "

"What were the marks your Willie wore:" the soldier did enquire
"He wore a Hielan bonnet, a feather standin high:
His big broadsword hung by his side and his dark suit so true,
These were the marks my Willie wore when he sailed for Waterloo."

"I was your Willie's comrade, I saw your Willie die;
Six bay'net wounds were in his sides afore he doon wad lie.
Then holdin up his hand he cried, 'Some Frenchman's slain me noo'
It was I that closed your Willie's eyes on bloody Waterloo. "

"Oh Willie, dearest Willie! " - and she could say no more,
She flung herself in the soldier's arms while she thus the tidings bore
"Death open wide your jaws and swallow me up too
For Willie lies among the slain on bloody Waterloo. "

"Stand up stand up, my fair maid; my dearest, do not frown! "
An flingin' off his grey coat, his tartans they hung down;
His big broadsword hung by his side and his dark suit sae true,
"I am your ain dear Wille lad who sailed for Waterloo. "

"Stand up stand up, my fair maid; my dearest, do not frown! "
An flingin off his grey coat, his tartans they hung down;
"Now since we've met we ne'er shall pairt, till Death shall us divide
And hand in hand in wedlock bands alang the banks o Clyde. "

From Willie Scott
@Scots @soldier @love
filename[ BLDYWLOO
play.exe BLDYWLOO
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOOMING CAROLINE OF EDINBURGH

Come all ye tender fair maids, give ear unto my rhyme,
I'll tell you of a fair maid, she was scarcely in her prime,
She beat the blooming roses, was admired all around,
This fair maid's name was Caroline of Edinburgh town.

Young Henry being a Highland lad, a-courting her he came,
And when her parents heard of it, they were angry at the same;
Young Henry being offended, he unto her did say,
"O, rise up, blooming Caroline, and we will go away."

"We will go to London, to London with great speed,
We will go to London, live happy there indeed"
She bundled up her costly clothes, the stairs came tripping down,
And away goes blooming Caroline from Edinburgh town.


O'er lofty hills and mountains together they did roam,
O'er lofty hills and mountains and far away from home;
She says, "True-hearted Henry, if ever you on me frown,
You'll break the heart of Caroline from Edinburgh town."

They had not been in London, in London half a year
Till cruel-hearted Henry began to prove severe,
He says,"Your friends and parents oftimes on me did frown,
Make no delay, but beg your way to Edinburgh town."

Now she's in grief without relief, to the green wood she is gone
To gather meat that she can eat upon the bushes grown
Some there are to pity her and some on her do frown,
And others say, "What made you stray from Edinburgh town ?"

She leaned her back up to an oak and she began to cry
To watch the little small boats and ships as they passed by;
Three sighs she gave for Henry and plunged her body down,
And away goes blooming Caroline of Edinburgh town.

A bonnet, cloak, likewise a note upon the shore was found,
And on the note these lines were wrote, "Here Caroline lies drowned,
She's fast asleep all in the deep, the small fish wavering round,
She's no more the blooming Caroline of Edinburgh town."

Come all ye tender parents and never hinder love,
For if you do, hard fortune will surely on you prove,
For if you do, hard fortune will surely on you frown,
For it broke the heart of Caroline of Edinburgh town.

From Songs of the People, Henry
@death @love @parting
filename[ CAROEDN2
play.exe CAROEDN2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW AWAY THE MORNING DEW
  or THE LADY'S POLICY
  or THE DISAPPOINTED LOVER
  or THE BAFFLED LOVER

There was a shepherd's son kept sheep upon a hill
He laid his pipe and crook aside and there he slept his fill

  And sing blow away the morning dew, the dew and the dew
  Blow away the morning dew, how sweet the winds do blow

He looked east and he looked west, then he gave an underlook
And there he spied a lady fair swimming in a brook

He raised his head from is green bed and then approached the maid
Put on your clothes, my dear, he says, and be ye not afraid

Tis fitter for a lady fair to sew her silken seam
Then to get up on a May morning and strive against a stream
If you'll not touch my mantle and let my clothes alone
Then I'll give you as much money as you can carry home

Oh, I'll not touch your mantle and I'll let your clothes alone
But I'll take you out of the clear water, my dear, to be my own

And when she out of the water came, he took her in his arms
Put on your clothes, my dear, he says and hide those lovely charms

He mounted her on a milk white steed, himself upon another
And all along the way they rode like sister and like brother

When she came to her father's gate, she tirled at the pin
And ready stood the porter there to let this fair maid in

And when the gate was opened, so nimbly's she whipped in
Pough, You're a fool without, she says, and I'm a maid within

Then fare ye well, my modest boy, I thank you for your care
But had you done what you should do, I ne'er had left you there
Oh, I'll cast off my hose and shoon and let my feet go bare
And when I meet a bonny lass, hang me if her I spare

In that you do as you please, she says, But you shall never more
Have the same opportunity; with that she shut the door

There is a cock in our father's barn, he never trod a hen
He flies about and flaps his wings, I think you're one of them

There is a flower in our garden, we call it marigold
He that would not when he might, he should not when he would

Child #112
found in Pills to Purge Melancholy(1719)
recorded by Cilia Fisher and Artie Trezise
@courting
filename[ MORNDEW
play.exe MORNDEW
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW THE CANDLES OUT

When I was apprenticed in London, I went to see my dear
The candles all were burning, the moon shone bright and clear
I knocked upon her window to ease her out of her pain
She rose up to let me in, then barred the door again

I like well your behavior and this I often say
I cannot rest contented when I am far away
The roads they are so muddy, we cannot walk about
So roll me in your arms, Love, and blow the candles out

Your father and your mother in yonder room do lie
A-hugging one another, so why not you and I?
A-hugging one another, without a fear or doubt
So roll me in your arms, Love, and blow the candles out

I pray thee speak more softly of what we have to do
Lest that our noise of talking should make our pleasure rue
The streets they are so nigh, Love, the people walk about
They may peep in and spy, Love, so blow the candles out

And if we prove successful, Love, please name it after me
Treat it neat and kiss it sweet and daft it on your knee
When my three years are over, my time it will be out
And I will pay my debt to you by blowing the candles out

Recorded by Dyer-Bennet
@English @love @courting
filename[ CANDLOUT
play.exe CANDLOUT
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW THE MAN DOWN

Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down
     To me way aye blow the man down
Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow him away,
     Give me some time to blow the man down!

As I was a walking down Paradise Street
A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet.

She was round in the counter and bluff in the bow,
So I took in all sail and cried, "Way enough now."

So I tailed her my flipper and took her in tow,
And yardarm to yardarm away we did go.

But as we were going she said unto me,
"There's a spanking full-rigger just ready for sea."
But as soon as that packet was clear of the bar,
The mate knocked me down with the end of a spar.

It's starboard and larboard on deck you will sprawl,
For Kicking Jack Williams commands the Black Ball.

So I give you fair warning before we belay,
Don't ever take head of what pretty girls say.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Probably the most famous of the halyard shanties.  The old melody
rarely varies, but there are many different versions of the
words.
@sailor @work
filename[ BLOWDOWN
play.exe BLOWDOWN
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW THE MAN DOWN

As I was a-walking down Paradise Street,
To me way, hey, blow the man down,
A fat Irish Bobby I chanced for to meet,
Give me some time to blow the man down.

Says he, ``You're a Black Baller from the cut of your hair;
I can tell by those high red-topped sea boots you wear.

``You've come from some ship that flies the Black Ball,
And you've robbed some poor Dutchman of his clothes, boots and
  all!''

Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow him away,
Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow him to stay.

Says I, ``Oh, no, sir, you do me great wrong,
I'm a Flying Fish sailor, just home from Hong Kong!''
So I blew him right down, and I stove in his jaw;
Says he then, ``Young feller, you're breaking the law!''

So six months I did, boys, in Liverpool town,
For kicking and punching and blowing him down.

Oh, blow the man, down, bullies, blow the man down;
And a crew of hard cases from Liverpool town.

@sailor @fight @police
filename[ BLOWDWN
play.exe BLOWDOWN
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW THE MAN DOWN

I'm a blue water sailor just back from Hong Kong
     Way, hey, blow the man down
If you give me some whiskey I'll sing you a song
     Give us some time to blow the man down

As I was a-walkin' down Paradise Street
A dashing young damsel I chanced for to meet

She was round in the counter and bluff in the bow
So I took in all sail and cried, "Way enough now."

I hailed her in English and I hailed her all round
I hauled up alongside and asked where she was bound

She said to me, "Sir, will you stand a treat?"
"Delighted," says I, "For a charmer so sweet."

So I tailed her my flipper and took her in tow
And yard-arm to yard-arm away we did go

It was up in her quarters she piped me aboard
And there on her bed I cut loose with my sword

Ah, but just as my cutter was forging ahead
She shouted, "My husband!" and jumped out of bed

He was seven feet tall, had a chest like a horse
A straight for my jawbone he plotted his course

He loosened my rigging, he kicked in my stays
I flew down the stairs like a ship on the ways

I chanced on a packet that happened on by
And when I awoke I was bound for Shanghai

So come all you young laddies that follow the sea
Don't never take heed of what pretty girls say.

SOURCE: Bob Pfeffer
SOURCE'S SOURCE: Garrett Warner (also recorded Oscar Brand)
@sailor @bawdy
filename[ BLOWDWN2
play.exe BLOWDOWN
RPf
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW THE MAN DOWN

As I was a-walking down Paradise street
  To me way, aye, blow the man down
A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet
  Give me some time to blow the man down

She was round in the counter and bluff in the bow
So I took in all sail & cried "Way enough now!"

I hailed her in English, she answered me clear
"I'm from the Black Arrow, bound to the Shakespeare"

She says to me  "Will you stand treat?"
"Delighted" says I "for a charmer so sweet"

So I tailed her my flipper and took her in tow
And yardarm to yardarm, away we did go

I bought her a two shilling dinner in town
And trinkets and laces and bonnet and gown

We walked and we talked and her name it was Gwen
I kissed her a couple and kissed her again

I says "Will you marry a seafaring man?"
She says "I'll ask Mother to see if I can."

Along comes a sailor, they call him Half Ton
He says to her "Mother" she murmers "My son"

She says to him "Son, here is your new dadee"
But I says "I'm bound for the rolling sea"

@sailor @courting
filename[ BLOWDWN4
play.exe BLOWDOWN
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW THE MAN DOWN

A ship was becalmed on a tropical sea.
Away, away, blow the man down,
For three long weeks no wind had she.
Oh, give us some time to blow the man down,

cho: Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down,
     Heave away, away, blow the man down.
     For three long weeks no wind had she.
     Oh, give us some time to blow the man do@n.

The wheel had been lashed; all the crew were asleep.
The skipper (stood) watch and (and did the) deck keep

Her canvas hung limply from not being fed.
Had no strength to carry the vessel ahead.

The skipper leaned over the poop afterrail.
He wished that a fair wind was filling his sail.

He prayed to King Neptune, the ruler of seas.
He prayed to King Neptune to send him a breeze.

A porpoise appeared with a kink in his tail.
He looked at the skipper and winked at the sail,

It then disappeared and a whale took his place.
It spouted and seerned to be eager to race.

The flying fish soared as though offering aid.
The skipper believed, and was glad he had prayed.

The Captain could hardly his senses believe.
Such an answer so soon he'd not thought to receive.

But he roused and he called all the hands out on deck.
For on the horizon appeared a black speck.

From Folk Songs Out of Wisconsin, Peters
Collected from Noble Brown, Millville, WI 1946

@sailor @fish @animal @myth
filename[ BLOWDWN3
play.exe BLOWDOWN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW YE WINDS (3)

They've advertised for whalermen, five hundred brave and true,
To fish for sperm on the whaling grounds of Chile and Peru.

cho: Singing blow ye winds in the morning and blow ye winds high, O
     Clear away your running gear and blow ye winds high, O.

It's now we are at sea, my boys, the wind comes on to blow;
One half the watch is sick on deck, the other half below.

But as for the provisions, we don't get half enough;
A little bit of stinking beef and a little bag of duff.

Then there's the running rigging which you're supposed to know;
It's "Lay aloft, you son of a whore, or overboard you go!"

The cooper's at the vice bench a-making iron poles;
The mate's upon the mainhatch a-blasting all our souls.

The skipper's on the quarterdeck a-squinting at the sails
When up aloft the lookout sights a bloody school of whales;

"Now clear away them boats, my boys, and after him we'll travel;
But if you get too near his flukes he'll flip you to the devil."

Then our waist-boat got down and we made a good start.
"Lay on me now, you bleeders, for I'm hell for a long dart."

Then the harpoon struck and the whale sped away,
But whatever he done, boys, he gave us fair play.

Now we got him turned up and we towed him alongside,
And we over with our blubberhooks and rob him of his hide.

Now the bosun overside the lift-tackle do haul,
And the mate there in the mainchains so loudly he do bawl.

Next comes the stowing down, boys, to take both night find day
"You'll have a tanner apiece, boys, on the hundred and ninetieth lay."'

Now we're all bound into Tumbez, that blasted whaling port,
And if you run away, my boys, you surely will get caught.

Now we're bound for Talcahuana, all in our manly power,
Where the skipper can buy a whorehouse for half a barrel of flour.

When we get home, our ship fast, and we get through our sailing,
A winding glass around we'll pass, and to hell with blubber whaling.

from the Oxford Book of Sea Songs, Palmer
@sailor @whale   @work
filename[ BLOWYE3
play.exe BLOWYE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW YE WINDS IN THE MORNING

       'Tis advertised in Boston, New York, and Buffalo:
       Five hundred brave Americans a-whalin' for to go.

 Chorus:
          Singing Blow ye winds in the morning,
          Blow ye winds, heigh-ho!
          Clear away your runnin' gear,
          And blow, boys, blow!
          (or: And blow, ye winds heigh-ho!)

      They send you to New Bedford, that famous whaling port,
      And give you to some land sharks to board and fit you out.

      They send you to a boardin' house, there for a time to dwell;
      The thieves there they are thicker than the other side of Hell.

      They tell you of the clipper ships a-runnin' in and out,
      And  say you'll take five hundred sperm before you're six months
       out.

      And now we're out to sea, my boys, the wind comes on to blow;
      One-half the watch is sick on deck, the other half below.

      The skipper's on the quarterdeck a-squintin' at the sails,
      When up aloft the lookout spots a mighty school of whales.

      Then lower down the boats, my boys, and after him we'll travel,
      But if you get too near his tail, he'll kick you to the Devil.

      When we've caught a whale, my boys, we'll bring 'im alongside,
      Then over with our blubber-hooks and rob him of his hide.

      When we get home,  our ship made fast,  when we get through  our
          sailin',
      A  brimming  glass  around we'll pass,  and  damn  this  blubber
          whalin'.

    Some singers invariably sing "me boys" for "my boys," and other variations
occur, too.
The song is sometimes called the "Boston Come-Ye-All,"( with the line "Come all
     you bold Americans, a-whalin' for to go." in verse one ) and sometimes
    "Blow, Boys, Blow."

learned, sort-of, from Rusty Thorpe, at Hawthorne. (1966-69)
Recorded by Pete Seeger and others
@sailor @work @whale
filename[ BLOWYE
play.exe BLOWYE
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW YE WINDS IN THE MORNING (II)

It's advertised in Boston, New York and Buffalo
A hundred brave Americans, a-sailing for to go.

 cho:
     And blow ye winds in the morning
     Blow ye winds hi oh
     It's clear away the running gear
     and blow boys blow.

A hundred brave Americans? My God! That is a laugh,
For all of you in the NMU could never sail a raft.

   cho:

You call yourselves seamen but I say that is a lie
'Cause greedy little men like you could never qualify,

   cho:

In Lunenberg in Canada they build great wooden ships,
And boatswains play guitars instead of cat o' nine tail whips,

   cho:

Instead of diesel engines we've got sails and running gear;
The work is hard, but then we don't pollute the atmosphere.

   cho:

Now here we are on deck again, now what do you think of that?
And all of you in the NMU can go shit in your hat!

   cho:

@parody @sailor @work
(This version was sung on the HMS Rose in Lunenberg, Nova Scotia,
in the spring of 1971. It was a response to an organizing drive
by the NMU)
filename[ BLOWYE2
play.exe BLOWYE
WPM
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW YE WINDS SOUTHERLY

cho:
     Blow the wind southerly, southerly, southerly
     Blow the wind south o'er the bonnie blue sea;
     Blow the wind southerly, southerly, southerly
     Blow, bonnie breeze, my lover to me.

They told me last night there were ships in the offing
And I hurried down to the deep rolling sea;
But my eye could not see it wherever might be it
The bark that is bearing my lover to me.

So,
cho:

Recorded by Jo Stafford.
@love @sailor
filename[ BLWSOUTH
play.exe BLWSOUTH
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOW, BOYS, BLOW

A Yankee ship came down the river
     Blow, boys, blow!
Her masts and spars they shone like silver
     Blow my bully boys blow!

How do you know she's a Yankee liner?
The Stars and Stripes float out behind her.

How do you know she's a Yankee packet?
They fired a gun, I heard the racket

And who d'you think is the captain of her?
Why, Bully Hayes is the captain of her.

Oh, Bully Hayes, he loves us sailors;
Yes, he does like hell and blazes!

And who d'you think is the mate aboard her:
Santander James is the mate aboard her.

Santander James, he's a rocket from hell, boys,
He'll ride you down as you ride the spanker.

And what d'you think they've got for dinner?
Pickled eels' feet and bullock's liver.

Then blow, my bullies, all together,
Blow, my boys, for better weather.

Blow, boys, blow, the sun's drawing water;
Three cheers for tlhe cook and one for his daughter.

A Yankee ship on the Congo River,
Her masts they bend and her sails they shiver.

From Rolla and Go, Colcord
@sailor @work
filename[ BLOWBOYS
play.exe BLOWBOYS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLOWING IN THE WIND
(Bob Dylan)

How many roads must a man walk down
Before they call him a man
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand
How many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they are forever banned
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind

How many years must a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea
How many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free
How many times can a man turn his head
And pretend that he just don't see
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky
How many years must one man have
Before he can hear people cry
How many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind

Copyright Warner Brothers, Inc.
@political
filename[ BLOWWIND
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUE BELLS OF SCOTLAND

Oh where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?
Oh where, tell me where, is your Highland laddie gone?
He's gone wi' streaming banners where noble deeds are done
And it's oh, in my heart I wish him safe at home

Oh where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie dwell?
Oh where, tell me where, did your Highland laddie dwell?
He dwelt in Bonnie Scotland, where blooms the sweet blue bell
And it's oh, in my heart I lo'ed my laddie well

Oh what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
Oh what, tell me what, does your Highland laddie wear?
A bonnet with a lofty plume, and on his breast a plaid
And it's oh, in my heart I lo'ed my Highland lad

Oh what, tell me what, if your Highland laddie is slain?
Oh what, tell me what, if your Highland laddie is slain?
Oh no, true love will be his guard and bring him safe again
For it's oh, my heart would break if my Highland lad were slain

@Scots @love @war
filename[ BLUEBELL
play.exe BLUEBELL
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUE BLEEZING BLIND DRUNK

I'll go and I'll get blue bleezing blind drunk
Just to give Mickey a warning
And just for to spite I will stay out all night
And come rolling home drunk in the morning

Now friends, I have a sad story
A very sad story to tell
I married a man for his money
And he's worse than the devil himself

For when Mickey comes home in the evening
He batters me all black and blue
He knocks me about from the kitchen
From the bedroom right through to the room

For of whiskey I ne'er was a lover
But what can a poor woman do
I'll go and I'll drown all my sorrows
But I wish I could drown Mickey too

Recorded by Sheila Stewart (Stewarts of Blair)
@drink  @marriage
filename[ BLUBLDNK
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUE BOTTLE

When I was a bachelor, brisk and young,
Courted a lady with a flattering tongue;
Kisses I gave her were a hundred and ten.
I promised to marry, but I didn't tell her when,
I promised to marry, but I didn't tell her when.

Monday morning I married me a wife,
Thinking I'd live a happier life.
Fiddlin' and dancin' and all the fine plays,
How happy we were in all those days, (2x)

Tuesday morning I carried her home,
I thought to my soul I had a wife of my own.
She curled her nose and scold and scold,
If ever I heard the like before. (2x)

Wednesday morning I went to the wood,
Thinkin' to my soul she would never be good,
Cut me a lash where the willows grow green,
Think she's the toughest that ever I seen. (2x)

Thursday morning I lashed her well,
Cuffed her more than tongue can tell;
"If this is the best that you're goin'' to do,
The devil may have you tomorrow before two." (2x)

Friday morning at break of day
On her death pillow she was scolding away;
Ruffets and the Cuffets and the little devils came,
And carried her away to the home of the same. (2x)

Saturday morning as I lay alone,
I had no wife, no bride of my home;
My blue bottle is my best friend,
My week's sorrow has now an end. (2x)

From Our Singing Country, Lomax. Collected from Mrs. Carlos
     Gallimore, VA 1937
@marriage @drink
filename[ BLUEBOTT
play.exe BLUEBOTT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUE HAWAII

Perfume in the air and rare flowers everywhere
And white shadows we could share at Waikiki
A sky full of stars
And soft far away guitars,
It seems to be only a reverie.

Night and you and blue Hawaii,
The night is heavenly
And you are heaven to me.
Lovely you and blue Hawaii,
With all this loveliness
There should be love.

Come with me - while the moon is on the sea;
The night is young - and so are we.
Dreams come true in blue Hawaii
And mine could all come true
This magic night of nights with you.

filename[ BLUHAWAI
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUE MOUNTAIN LAKE

     d                                     A7
Come all of you fellers, where'er you may be,
      d           g        A7
Come set down a while and listen to me.
      d                       C
The truth I will tell you without a mistake
           d                       A7           d
'Bout the rackets we had down at Blue Mountain Lake.
                  d           A7         d
[REFRAIN  Derry down, down, down derry down

There's the Sullivan brothers and big Jimmy Lou,
And old Moose Gilbert and Dandy Pat, too.
As fine lot of fellers as ever was seen
And they all worked for Griffin on Township 19.

Bill Mitchell you know, he kept our shantee.
As mean a damn man as you ever did see.
He laid round the shanty from mornin' till night.
If a man said a word he was ready to fight.

One mornin' 'fore daylight, Jim Lou he got mad,
Knocked hell out of Mitchell and the boys was all glad.
His wife, she stood there, and the truth I will tell,
She was tickled to death to see Mitchell catch hell.

Old Griffin he stood there, the crabby old drake.
A hand on the racket we thought he would take.
When some of the boys came and took him away,
"By Christ," says old Griffin, "I've nothin' to say."

You can talk of your fashions and styles to be seen,
But there's none to compare with the cook of 19.
She's short, thick, and stout, without a mistake,
And the boys call her Nellie, the belle of Long Lake.

And now my good fellers, adieu to you all,
For Christmas is comin' and I'm goin' to Glens Falls,
And when I get there I'll go out on a spree,
For you know when I've money, the devil's in me.

Lomax et al. Recorded Larry Older, Folk Legacy
@logger    @work
filename[ BLUEMTN
play.exe DERRYDWN
RPf
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BLUE VELVET BAND

In that city of beauty and fashion,
In Frisco I first saw the light;
And the numerous adventures and frolics
That live in my memory tonight.

I was walking the streets of old Frisco,
The hour was just turning nine;
When I chanced on a girl, tall and slender
On the corner of Kearney and Pine.

Her face was a vision of beauty,
Her eyes, they seemed to expand.
And her hair it was long, rich and golden
Entwined in a blue velvet band.

To a place where they served us strong liquor,
She invited me with a sweet smile.
She seemed so refined, gay and charming
That I thought I would tarry awhile.

She took me back to her apartment,
It was up on the third floor above;
And I thought myself truly in heaven
As I looked at this goddess of love.

But what struck me most was an object
Designed by an artistic hand,
'Twas the costly layout of a hop-fiend!
And the fiend was my blue velvet band.

On a pile of fine satins and pillows,
She reclined, I declined on the floor,
Then we both hit the pipe and I slumbered,
I pondered it over and o'er.

'Tis months since the craven arm grasped me;
And in bliss did my life slip away.
From opium, to "dipping" and thieving
She artfully led day by day.

One evening, coming home wet and weary
With the swag from a jewelry store;
I heard the soft voice of my loved one
As I quietly opened the door.

"If you'll give me a clue to convict him,"
Said a stranger, in tones soft and bland,
"You'll then prove to me that you love me."
"It's a go," said my blue velvet band.

Ah!, How my heart then filled with anger,
At this woman, so fair false and vile,
And the thought that I once truly loved her
Forced my lips to a sad, bitter smile.

All ill-gotten gains we had squandered
And my life, it was hers to command;
Deserted and left for another ---
Could this be my blue velvet band?

What happened to me I will tell you.
I was ditched for a desperate crime.
For during that jewelry store hold-up
A man was shot down in his prime.

As a convict of hard reputation,
Ten years of hard grind did I land;
And I often recalled all the pleasures
I had with my blue velvet band.

Many months have gone by since this happened,
And the story belongs to the past.
I forgave her, but just retribution
Claimed this fair but false one at last.

She slowly sank lower and lower,
Downward through life's shifting sands;
Till finally she died in a hop-joint
The girl in the blue velvet band.

Now when I get out I will hasten
To live honest in some other land,
For I'm bidding farewell to old Frisco
And the grave of the blue velvet band.

note: I first heard this from an old (1940s) Montana Slim
record, in a shortened form. This is a paste-up of fragments from
a bunch of sources: a more complete (!) version exists in Shay's
More Pious Friends and Drunken Companions. This is an earlier, or
later, version of Black Velvet Band (BLAKVEL). RG

@love @outlaw @death
filename[ BLUEVEL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUE-EYED BOY

cho: Bring me back my blue-eyed boy
     Bring, O bring him back to me
     Bring me back my blue-eyed boy
     What a happy, happy girl I'd be.*


There is a tree I love to pass
And it has leaves as green as grass
But not to green as love is true
I love but one and that is you.

Must I go bound and he go free?
Must I love one that don't love me?
Or must I act a childish part
And love the one that broke my heart?

Go bear, go bear, go bear in mind
That a good true friend is hard to find.
And when you find one good and true
Never change the old one for a new.

Adieu, adieu, kind friends, adieu
I can no longer stay with you.
I'll hang my heart in a willow tree
And give it to the one that first loved me.

from American Ballads and Songs, Pound
@love
filename[ BLUEYEBY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUE-EYED GIRL

cho: Fly around, my blue-eyed gal
     Fly around my daisy;
     Fly around my blue-eyed gal
     Dam' near drive me crazy. *

The higher up on the cherry tree
The riper grows the cherry
More you hug and kiss the gals
Sooner you will marry.

cho:

Blue-eyed gal won't marry me
Brown-eyed gal won't have me;
If I can't have the gal I want
Single I will tarry.

cho:

Eighteen horses in my team
Leader he is blind;
Everywhere I drive that team
Pretty gal on my mind.

cho:

Possum up in a 'simmon tree
Raccoon on the ground;
Possum up in a 'simmon tree
Shakin' 'simmons down.

*Methodists sang "Almost drives me crazy."


@banjo
filename[ BLUEYEGL
play.exe BLUEYEGL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUEBEARD

A maiden from the Bosporus,
     with eyes as bright as phosphorus,
Once wed the mighty bailiff
     of the caliph of Kelat.
Though diligent and zealous,
     he was somewhat prone to jealousy,
(Considering her beauty,
     'twas his duty to be that!)

cho: Yuazuram,
          oh yuazuram,
     Glory hallelujah,
          yuazuram.

It might be mentioned, casually,
     that blue as lapuz lazuli,
He dyed his lips, his lashes,
     his mustaches and his beard.
And, just because he did it, he
     aroused his wife's timidity;
Her terror she dissembled,
     yet she trembled when he neared.

This feeling insalubrious
     soon made her most lugubrious,
And bitterly she missed her
     elder sister, Marie Anne;
She asked if she might write her to
     come down and spend a night or two,
And Bluebeard answered rightly
     and politely, "yes, you can!"

When business would necessitate
     a journey, he would hesitate,
But, fearing to mistrust her,
     he would trust her with the keys,
Bidding her most prayerfully,
     "I beg you'll use them carefully.
Don't look what I deposit
     in the closet, if you please."

Bluebeard, the Monday following,
     his jealous feeling swallowing,
Packed all his clothes together
     in a leather-bound valise,
And, feigning business, sensibly,
     he started out, ostensibly
By traveling to learn a
     bit of Smyrna and of Greece.

His wife made but a cursory
     inspection of the nursery,
The kitchen and the airy
     little dairy were a bore,
Likewise the large and scanty rooms,
     the billiard, bath, and ante-rooms,
But not that interdicted
     and restricted little door!

At last, her curiosity
     awakened by the closet he
So carefully had hidden,
     and forbidden her to see,
This damsel disobedient
     did something inexpedient,
And in the keyhole tiny
     turned the shiny little key.

She shrieked aloud convulsively
     and started back repulsively
Ten heads of girls he'd wedded
     and beheaded met her eye!
And turning 'round, most terrified,
     her darkest fears were verified,
For Bluebeard stood behind her,
     come to find her on the sly!

Perceiving she was fated to
     be soon decapitated, too,
She telegraphed her brothers
     and some others what she feared.
And Sister Anne looked out for them,
     in readiness to shout for them
Whenever in the distance
     with assistance they appeared.

But only from the battlement
     she saw some dust that cattle meant.
The ordinary story
     isn't gory, it's a jest!
For here's the truth unqualified,
     her husband wasn't mollified
Her head is in his bloody
     little study with the rest !

Note: I don't know who wrote this, but it sounds like Newman
     Levy. Anybody know? RG
@murder @marriage
filename[ BLUBEARD
play.exe BLUBEARD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUES CHASE UP A RABBIT

When the blues chase up a rabbit
Little rabbit run one solid mile
Poor little rabbit cry like a newborn child

Way out in cruel Colorado
Where the lonesome hobo squall
I chase my baby up cruel Colorado's wall

I wish I was a headlight
On some lonesome southbound train
I'd follow you baby, wouldn't be back again

When the blues chase up a rabbit
Little rabbit run one solid mile
Poor little rabbit cry like a newborn child

@animal
filename[ BLUECHAS
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUES IN THE NIGHT

My mamma done tol' me,
 When I was in knee pants,
 My mamma done tol' me, "Son!
 A woman'll sweet talk, and give ya the big eye,
 But when the sweet talkin's done,
 A woman's a two-face,
 A worrisome thing who'll leave ya t' sing
 The blues in the night"

Now the rain's a-fallin'
Hear the train a-callin' "whoo-ee"!
(My mamma done tol' me.)
Hear that lonesome whistle
Blowin 'cross the trestle, "whooee,"
(My mamma done tol' me.)
A whooee-a-whooee,
Ol' clickety clack's a-echo-in' back the blues in the night
(Hum---)
My mamma was right, there's blues in the night

@train @blues
filename[ BLUENITE
SW
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLUEY BRINK

There once was a shearer, bename Bluey Brink
A devil for work and a devil for drink.
He could shear his hundred a day without fear
And drink without winking, four gallon of beer.

Now Jimmy, the barman, who served out the drink,
He hated the sight of this here Bluey Brink,
Who stayed much too late and who come much too soon;
At evening, at morning, at night and at noon.

One morning as Jimmy was cleaning the bar
With sulfuric acid he kept in a jar,
Old Bluey come yelling and bawling with thirst,
"Whatever you got, Jim, just hand me the first."

Now, it ain't in the history, it ain't put in print
But Bluey drank acid with never a wink,
Saying, "That's the stuff, Jimmy! Well, strike me stone dead.
This'll make me the ringer of Stevenson's shed."

Now all that long day, as he served out the beer
Poor Jimmy was sick with his trouble and fear.
Too worried to argue, too anxious to fight,
Seeing the shearer a corpse in his fright.

Now early next morning he opened the door,
And along come the shearer asking for more;
With his eyebrows all singed and his whiskers deranged,
And holes in his hide like a dog with the mange.

Says Jimmy, "And how did you find the new stuff?"
Says Bluey, "It's fine, but I ain't had enough.
It gives me great courage to shear and to fight,
But why does that stuff set me whiskers alight

I thought I knew drink, but I must have been wrong;
For that stuff that you give me was proper and strong.
It set me to coughing, and you know I'm no liar
And every cough set me whiskers on fire."


Per AL Lloyd on Australian Bush Songs (Riverside RLP 12-606.)  The
tune is a variant of "Dinah and her Villikins" (without the refrain &
softened out & syncopated a bit) which tune, Lloyd notes, has probably
been used for more texts than any other in the English-speaking
world. AJS

@Australia  @drink @shear    @humor
filename[ BLUBRINK
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BLYTHE WAS SHE
(Robert Burns)

By Oughtertyre grows the aik,
   On Yarrow banks the birken shaw;
But Phemie was a bonier lass
  Than braes o Yarrow ever saw.

ch.  Blythe, blythe and merry was she,
        Blythe was she butt and ben,
     Blythe by the banks of Ern,
        And blythe in Glenturit glen!

Her looks were like a flow'r in May,
  Her smile was like a simmer morn:
Shc tripped by the banks o Ern,
   As light's a bird upon a thorn.

Her bonie face it was as meek
  As onie lamb upon a lea.
The evening sun was ne'er sae sweet
  As was the blink o Phemie's e'e.

The Highland hills I've wander'd wide,
  As o,er the lawlands I hae been,
But phemie was the blythest lass
  That ever trod the dewy green.

@love
tune:Andrew an' his Cutty Gun (179)
filename[ BLYHWSHE
play.exe BLYHWSHE
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BO LAMKIN

Bo Lamkin was as fine a mason
As ever laid a stone
He built a fine castle
And pay he got none (repeat last 2 lines)

He swore by his Maker
He`d kill then unknown;
Beware of Bo Lamkin
While I'm gone from home.

Bo Lamkin he comes to the castle
And he knocked loud and long,
There was none as ready as a faultress, (false nurse)
She arose and let him in.

Oh where is the landlord ?
Or is he at home?
Oh, no, he's gone to merry England
For to visit his son.

How will we get her downstairs
Such a dark night as it is?
Stick pins and needles in the little baby,
Stick pins and needles in the little baby.

Bo Lamkin rocked the cradle
And the faultress she sung,
While the tears and the red blood
From the cradle did run.

The lady comin' downstairs
Not thinking no harm,
Bo Lamkin stood ready
He cotched her in his arms.

Bo Lamkin, Bo Lamkin,
Spare my life one hour,
You can have my daughter Betsy
My own blooming flower.

Bo Lamkin, Bo Lamkin,
Spare my life one day,
You can have all the gay gold
Your horse can tote away.

Oh keep your daughter Betsy,
For to go to the flood,
To scour the silver basin
That catches your heart`s blood.

Daughter Betsy was a-settin'
In the castle so high,
She saw her dear father come
A-ridin' hard by.

Dear father, dear father,
Come see what's been done.
Bo Lamkin has been here
And he's killed your dear son.

Bo Lamkin has been here,
He's killed your baby,
Bo Lamkin has been here
And killed your lady.

Bo Lamkin was hung
To the scaffold so high,
And the faultress was burned
To a stake standin' by.

@murder
recorded by Frank Profitt, Folk Legacy
Child #93
filename[ BLAMKIN
play.exe BLAMKIN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOAR'S HEAD CAROL

The boar's head in hand bear I
Bedecked with bays and rosemary
I pray you, my masters, be merry
Quot estis in convivio (so many as are in the feast)

CHO:  Caput apri defero, Reddens laudes domino
 (the boar's head I bring, giving praises to God)

The boar's head, as I understand,
Is the rarest dish in all this land,
Which thus bedecked with a gay garland
Let us servire cantico. (let us serve with a song)

CHO:

Our steward hath provided this
In honor of the King of bliss
Which, on this day to be served is
In Reginensi atrio: (in the Queen's hall)

Queens College Version, Oxford, England first published 1521

Recorded by John Langstaff - Christmas Revels. Also by Deller
     Consort
@religion  @Xmas      @English @seasonal
filename[ BOARHEAD
play.exe BOARHEAD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOASTER

      D       A7    D                       A7          D
I've been to gay Paree, where the women at half past three
        A7
Come strolling along where the boys belong
 A7                D
Hollering ta-rara-boom-teeyay;

I've danced the oyster can, down on the American plan;
I shed great tears when I got three years
For stealing a couple of extra steers;

I've been to Kansas C.; I've been out on a spree;
I've been in jail and out on bail
And I've been on a ship that would not sail;

I've been to Ohio, likewise to Buffalo,
Indianapolis, Cincinnata,
Louisville and Camay-o;

I've been up in a balloon; I've been to a saloon;
I've been in a soak and I've been dead broke
And I drank and I drank till I thought I would croak,

And I've been an awful dude, and sometimes rather rude;
I've had hard luck and I've been dead stuck
And I've been the driver of a two-horse truck;

I've been in many a scrap; I've had a real hard slap;
Mine eyes have been draped in mourning and crepe;
For a year and a half I've been stuck on the shakes;

I've slept in bum hotels, paid prices that were swell,
Slept in bum beds and dying bled
And chasing the bedbugs round my head;

Played bumper once or twice, with cards and shaking dice;
Bet a house and a lot and a fourteen-spot;
I pulled my leg plumb full of knots;

I've often played baseball; I've been umpire and all;
Been hit with clubs and sticks and bricks
And bounded about in a terrible fix;

Been to Chicago too, that place where the wind was rude;
I went to a fair where they clipped my hair
And charged me a dollar an inch for air;

I've been down on the track, at a racehorse not too crack;
Bet a ten or two on a horse I knew
But the horse dropped dead and he never came to;

I've lived on pork and beans; I've slept in rooms thirteen;
Been out at night and I've seen the sights
And I've hit the pike by the candlelight;

I've been to Salt Lake too; 'twas the only place I knew
Where the girls are beauties and they does their duties
And they chews the gum called the Tuttsi-Frutties;

I've been to Indi-ann; I've stepped on a banann;
I slipped, I fell, I hurt like hell,
But the words I used I must not tell;

I also rode a wheel, and I run on an automobile;
I made a gold strike and I had a prizefight
And since that night I've never been right;

I fought for the blue and the gray; I've slept on a bale of hay;
I drove a mule, taught public school,
But I never could find that golden rule;

I drank red lemonade that's made with a posthole spade;
I've shot snipes by electric lights
And I marched with the Salvation Army at night;

I've been in politics, too; oh, how the money flew;
In Tammany Hall I had a close call,
But I never could learn to sing "After the Ball";

I've been where I didn't belong; you've heard this lovely song;
Now these are all facts, but I made some cracks
And I'll get it in the neck where the two men got the ax.

Deseret String Band (Salt Lake City)
@humor
filename[ BOASTR
RPf
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOATIE ROW

O weel may the boatie row and better may she speed,
And leesome may the boatie row that wins the bairns' bread.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows indeed,
And weel may the boatie row that wins my bairns' bread.
O weel may the boatie row and better may she speed,
And leesome may the boatie row that wins my bairns' bread.

I cast my line in Largo Bay and fishes I catched nine,
There was three to boil and three to fry, and three to bait the line.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows indeed,
And happy be the lot o' a' who wishes her to speed.

O weel may the boatie row that fills a heavy creel,
And cleads us a' frae head to feet and buys our pottage meal.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boarie rows indeed,
And happy be the lot o' a' that wish the boatie speed.

When Jamie vowed he would be mine and wan frae me my heart,
O muckle lighter grew my creel; he swore we'd never part.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows fu' weel,
And muckle lighter is the load when love bears up the creel.

My kurtch I put upo' my head and dressed mysel' fu' braw,
I true my heart was douf an' wae when Jamie ga'ed awa';
But weel may the boatie row and lucky be her part,
And lightsome be the lassie's care that yields an honest heart.

When Sawney, Jock an'Janetie are up and gotten lear
They'll help to gar the boatie row and lighten a' our care.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows, the boatie rows fu' weel,
And lightsome be her heart that bears the murlain and the creel.

And when wi' age we're worn down, and hirpling round the door,
They'll row to keep us dry and warm as we did them before.
Then weel may the boatie row, she wins the baim's bread,
And happy be the lot o' a' that wish the boat to speed.

@sailor @fish @love
from Roy Palmer, Oxford Book of Sea Songs
filename[ BOATROW
play.exe BOATROW
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOATING ON A BULLHEAD

I was sleepin' in a line barn and eatin' beans and hay
While the boss was kickin' my starn ev'ry night and ev'ry day
So I hired out canawlin' as a horny hand of toil
Drivin' mules that kept a-bawlin' 'long the towpath's smelly soil.

Well, my feet raised corns and blisters
While the mules but raised a stink;
I took and threw them twisters
Plumb into the dirty drink.

I thought I'd give up driving
And the Cap he thought so, too
He said,"Hire out a diving
Or go bowing a canoe."

I was drying on the heel path
Watching boats haul up and down,
Shivering from the first good bath
I got since I left town.

When a boat tied up in the basin
At the wood dock for the night.
And I lost no time to hasten
'Round the bridge to ask for a bite.

They filled me up with beans and shote
And they lighted me a cob.
They asked if I could steer a boat
And they offered me a job.

The next morning I was boosted
To the stern cabin's roof.
With the tiller there I roosted
And watched the driver hoof.

Now the boat she was a Bullhead
Decked up to the cabin's top.
Many canawlers now are dead
Who had no place to drop.

When the bowsman he forgot to yell
"Low bridge, duck 'er down."
The Bullhead steersman went to Hell
With a bridgestring for a crown.

We were loaded down with Star Brand salt
The Captain was loaded, too.
I wouldn't say it was all his fault
But what was a man to do?

The bridge was only a heave away
When I saw it 'round the bend.
To the Cap a word I didn't say
While tumbling end over end.

So canawlers take my warning
Never steer a Bullhead boat.
Or they'll find you some fair morning
In the E-ri-e afloat.

Do all your navigating
From a line barn filled with hay.
And low bridge you won't be hating
And you'll live 'til Judgement Day.

From The Canaller's Songbook
Collected from Lyman King
@canal @work
filename[ BULLHEAD
play.exe BULLHEAD
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOATMAN

How often haunting the highest hilltop
I scan the ocean, a sail to see
Will it come tonight, love, will it come tomorrow
Or ever come, love, to comfort me

        Fear-a-uata, no horoway-la
        Fear-a-uata, no horoway-la
        Fear-a-uata, no horoway-la
        O fare thee well, love, where'er thou be

They call thee fickle, they call thee false one
And seek to change me but all in vain
Thou art my dream yet throughout the dark night
And every moment I watch the main

There's not a hamlet, too well I know it,
Where you go wandering or stay awhile
But all its old folk you win with talking
And charm its maidens with song and smile

Doth thou remember the promise made me,
A token plead, a silken gown
That ring of gold with your hair and portrait
That gown and ring I will never own

----------------------------------------------------------------------
sung by Sandy Denny in the London Folk Song Cellar in 1967. These are
probably the earliest existing tapes of Sandy's singing. The chorus is
Gaelic and I provide a phonetic transcription only. "Fear-a-uata"
(certainly spelled very differently) means "The Boatman".

@love @ship
filename[ THEBOATM
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOATMAN (round)

A boat, a boat
Haste to the ferry,
And we'll cross over
And be merry.
And laugh and quaff
And drink old sherry.

@round @boat
filename[ BOATMAN
play.exe BOATMAN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOATS THEY COME
(Bryan Bowers)

Cho: The boats they come and the boats they go
     Their bright lights are flashin to mexico
     I wonder if someday they'll ever know
     As they sail on the deep blue sea (2x)

He used to sit on the rocks as the sun went down
Wavin his arms like some colorful clown
Callin' to the seabirds a-flyin' down
Over the deep blue sea (2x)

Some thought he was crazy cause he said he could fly
Some thought he was crazy from the look in his eye
Mostly he's a character constantly high
Singing by the deep blue sea

Now he is gone and his hose is torn down
His white beard is never seen around
But children still recall the sound
Of music by the sea

Some thought he was crazy cause he said he could fly
He just leaned into life as it went on by
And like a sail in the wind oh it carried him high
Over the deep blue sea

filename[ BOATSCOM
ED
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOATSMAN AND THE TAILOR

It was an old boatsman down in Dover he did dwell
And he had a little wife and he loved her so well
But when the old boatsman he got out of the way
His frolicsome young wife with some tailor she would lay

cho: To my rally daIly da do rally daIly day

Now she was a walking down through the street
This pretty little tailor she chanced for to meet
Saying my husband's gone on board with the rest of his crew
And now this very night I will lie along with you

Then straight away home this couple they did go
A kissing and courting and loving also
But they hadn't been to bed about an hour by the clock
Before the old boatsman at the door he did knock

Now you get into my husband's chest and there you lie still
And then you'll be so safe as any mouse in the mill
And then she went downstairs for to let her husband in
And there stood the boatsman with three of his men

Now what has brought you here so late in the night
You've put the little tailor in a terrible fright
Why I have not a come to rob you nor disturb you of your rest
But since I have come here I must have my chest

Now these three able fellows being so stout and strong
They took up the chest and carried it along
But they hadn't carried the chest but a mile outside the town
Before the heft of the chest made the sweatings to run down

Says one to the other let us sit down and rest
Says one to the other why the devil's in the chest
Says one to the other I heard something knock
Then up jumps the old boatsman and his chest he did unlock

Now the chest he did unlock and was greatly surprised
To see the little tailor all rubbing of his eyes
Saying ,"Hullo my little fellow and how came you here
Well you cuckolded me ever this last seven year."

Now I'll press you to the seas and a slave thou shalt be
And if I don't sweat thee there the devil shall sweat me
Now I'll press you to the seas and a slave thou shalt be
Thou shalt never stay at home to make a cuckold of me.

@infidelity @revenge @marriage
filename[ BOATTAIL
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOB, THE PEDIGREE SHEEPDOG
(Mike Cross and Roger Chappell)

I've got a dog, his name is Bob
And I know he's a pedigree sheepdog
'Cos if walkers stray on the Pennine Way
He'll prove he's a Dalesbred sheepdog
And he'll fill the pen with assorted men
Something to sharpen his teeth on
And his picnic taste for salmon paste
Proves he's a Dalesbred sheepdog
So if you see Bob, the outlaw dog
Better leave him well alone
"Cos he likes little girls with long blond curls
Much better than a bone.

Now  at Sheepdog Trials they come for miles
Just to see a pedigree sheepdog
And his country fans all clap their hands
'Cos they know he's a Dalesbred sheepdog.
Whilst others leap to round up sheep
He's a nowhere to be seen dog.
Knocking down Newcastle Brown
Proves he's a pintsize sheepdog.

Now cars and bikes and folks on hikes
Are clogging all the Dales up
And if it goes on there won't be none
For our littermen to clean up.
But Bobs works hard in his own farmyard;
He doesn't need a reason.
A tourist a day keeps pollution away
And it's always open season.

A dog-food man with a can in his hand
Full of marrowbone jelly and noodles
Said he's had enough of dogs from Crufts
And temp'ramental poodles.
He could take us far - make Bob a star -
Gold-plated kennels and houses
But Bob gave a grin as he opened the tin
And took the backside out of his trousers.

Now a man came round from the Skipton Pound;
In his hand he carried a Summons
'Cos Bob put a paw outside the law -
By gum, he is a rum'un;
They'd had complaints to use restraints
And swore out an injuncture.
Bob's offense was he'd no license
To practice acupuncture.
So if you see Bob, the outlaw dog,
Better leave him well alone
'Cos he likes little girls with long blonde curls
Much better than a bone.

copyright EFDS Publications 1974
@dog @animal @outlaw
filename[ SHEEPDG
play.exe SHEEPDG
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOBBIE SHAFTO

     Bobbie Shafto's gane to sea,
     Siller buckles on his knee,
     He'll come back and marry me,
       Bonnie Bobbie Shafto.

     Bobbie Shafto's fat and fair,
     Combing down his yellow hair;
     He's my love for evermair,
       Bonnie Bobby Shafto.
     ________________________________________________________

     Nicht at Eenie (1932), 12, with music; Montgomerie SNR
     (1946), 90 (no. 112). This is a Northern song, shared by
     both sides of the border; but originally English.  See
     ODNR 90; Cuthbert Sharp, Bishoprick Garland (1834),
     [54], and tune, [85], from Topliff; Tyneside Songs
     (1891), 2; Bell RNB (1812), 283.  [With music in Bruce &
     Stokoe (1882), 115]:

     Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea,
     With silver buckles on his knee;
     He'll come back and marry me,
       Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.

     Bobby Shaftoe's bright and fair,
     Combing down his yellow hair,
     He's ma' ain for ever mair,
       Bonny Bobby Shaftoe.

     Bobby Shaftoe's getten a bairn,
     For to dandle in his airm;
     In his airm, and on his knee,
       Bobby Shaftoe loves me.
          Bobby Shaftoe's gone to sea, &c.

@Scots @kids
filename[ BOBSHAFT
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BODY IN THE BAG
(Charles O'Hegarty)

Our old cat died last night
Me wife says to bury it out of sight
But we didn't have a garden;
We was livin' in a flat
So what was I to do with the body of a cat,
Then a big brown paper bag I spied
I put our old dead kittycat inside.
And now I'm off down the street with the body in the bag,
The body in the bag, ta ra ra.

I went off down the street to have a whisky neat
And carefully laid my dead cat underneath my seat.
Then I got down on my hands and knees;
Went halfway through the town,
When the barman stops me,
``Here's your parcel Mr. Brown,''
So I had to thank the silly fool
And give him half a crown
For bringing me the body in the bag.

I threw it in the river but the hero of a play,
Well he jumped right in after,
Shouting, ``Hip hip hip, hooray!''
Then he crawled out on the bank
And he stood there in a pool.
He said, ``I'm really rather wet
And also rather cool.''
So I had to take me trousers off
And give 'em to the fool
For bringing me the body in the bag.

Well, I crept off down the street as quiet as a mouse
An' carefully laid me burden on
The doorstep of a house,
When the door it was flung open
And a lady dressed in blue
said, ``Pardonnez-moi monsieur,
But do you want a room?''
I said, ``Good heavens no, an' I've got
Something else to do!''
And skeddaddled with the body in the bag.

I crept into a garden, feeling very brave,
And with a pick and shovel I commenced to dig a grave,
But I got an awful shock when a voice behind me said,
``You're digging my potatoes!''
Oh, you could've shot me dead.
But there I was a-diggin' in his cauliflower bed
So I hit him with the body in the bag.

All at once from in the bag
There came a plaintive meow
Say Puss, ``I'm dead no longer,
You needn't bother now.
You've often heard it said
That a cat has got nine lives,
Well, I'm a married Tabby,
One of Tommy's wives
And our families they usually come
In threes, and fours, and fives...''
But there were seven little bodies in the bag!

note: see CATBACK
@animal @death @cat
sung by Jean Redpath
filename[ BODYBG
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOGIE'S BONNIE BELLE

At market day in Huntley toon, an' it was there I did agree
Wi' Bogieside the farmer a twelvemonth for to fee
Tae drive his twa best horses, that's a task that I could do
Tae drive his twa best horses in the harrow and the ploo

Now Bogie had a dochter, her name was Isabelle
She was the lily o' the valley  an' the primrose o' the dell
An' when she went oot walkin', she chose me for her guide
Doon by the burn at Cairnie, tae watch the fishes glide

And when three months was scarcely o'er, the lassie lost her
  bloom
An' the red fell frae her bonnie cheeks an' her eyes began to
  swoon
Noo, the neist nine months were past and gone, she brought tae me
  a son
And I was quickly sent for tae see what could be done
I said that I would marry her, but oh that widna dae
For, "You're nae match for Bonnie Belle, an' she's nae match for
  thee"
He sent me packin' doon the road, wi' nae penny o' my fee
Sae a' ye lads o' Huntley toon a lang fareweel tae ye.

But noo she's marrit tae a tinker lad, wha bides in Huntley toon
He mends pots and pans and paraffin lamps, an' scours the country
  roon
Maybe she's gotten a better match - auld Bogie canna tell -
But it was me wha's ta'en the maidenheid o' Bogie's bonnie Belle

recorded by Ian Manuel on the Frosty Ploughshare
@farm @Scots @courting  @bastard
filename[ BOGIEBEL
play.exe BOGIEBEL
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOGLE BO (or Bugaboo)

When I was in my prenticeship and learning of my trade,
I courted my master's daughter, which made my heart right glad.
I courted her both summers days and winter nights also
But I never could her favor win till I hired the Bogle Bo.

Day being gone, and night coming on, my neighbor he took a sheet
And straight into her room he went just like a wandering spirit.
She went (went) running up and down, not knowing where to go
But right into my bed she went for fear of the Bogle Bo.

And so my true love and me, (we both) fell fast asleep,
But ere the morn at fair daylight, sore, sore did she weep
Sore, sore did she weep; sore, sore did she mourn
But ere she rose and put on her clothes, the Bogle bo was gone.

You've done the thing to me last night, the thing you cannot shun
You've taen from me my maidenhead, and I am quite undone.
You've taen from me my maidenhead, and brought my body low
But, kind sir, if you'll marry me, I will be your jo.

Now he's married her and taen her hame, and it was but his part
She's proved to him a loving wife, and joy of all his heart;
He never told her of the joke, nor ne'er intends to do
But aye when his wife smiles on him, he minds the Bogle bo.

note: Foggy Dew variant; Collected by John Bell (1783- ??);
printed in Lloyd's Folk Song in England. Lloyd suggests that the
mysterious "foggy dew" of later versions is a corruption of this
one: in any case, it makes for a reasonable explanation, and this
version tells a good story. LLoyd doesn't give a tune, but it
fits nicely to th "Banks and Braes" version of Foggy Dew" Words
in parentheses were inserted by RG to attempt scansion. RG
@love @ghost
filename[ BOGLEBO
play.exe FOGGYDEW
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOGLED
(Dave Houlden)

Some go to folk clubs to listen to songs,
Song go young women to ogle.
But there's more, and their numbers increase day by day
Go to impersonate Eric Bogle.
Once it was Dylan they all used to ape,
Carthy and Jones you could never escape
Now it's Eric they study on record or tape
Though sometimes it's a bit of a failure.

     So let's go no more Waltzing Matilda
     At least for a week, two or three,
     You can soon have too much, even of a good thing
     No more Waltzing Matilda for me.

Nearly sixty times this year I've heard the Cocky
And I think you will agree that that is plenty,
To the bar I will repair when I hear that plaintive air
And I think he's playing it now and I feel queasy!
I'll go and chatter to the landlord's daughter
And I'll buy a drink, some whisky laced with water
However gentle, it's a sin to drink blackcurrant mixed with gin
And I think he's playing it now and I feel queasy!

How do you feel, Private William McBride
With this great host of folksingers sat 'round your graveside
I wept when your song the forst time I did hear
Now just the announcement brings forth a quiet tear!
It's a beautiful song, and to jest gives me pain
But to hear it eight times every week gives me pain
And they sing it again and again and again
And again and again and again!

     Did they beat the drums slowly?
     Did they sound the fifes lowly?
     Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
     Did the bugles sing The Last Post in chorus?
     Did the pipes play The Flowers of the Forest?

Tunes: obvious
@parody @folkmusic @music
filename[ BOGLED
CT,AG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD ARCHIE

"Come, come," Bold Archie he cried
"Come and speak a word with me
For I've a brother in yonder prison
Who is condemned and this day must dee"

"Oh no, oh no," the other he said
"Oh no, that never can be
For I have ten men as good as myself
We will go and set the poor prisoner free"

So they mounted their horses and away rode they
Who but they so merrily
Until they came to the prison gate
There they all dismounted most sorrowfully

"Bold Dickie, Bold Dickie," Bold Archie he cried
"Come and speak a word with me
For I have come with full forty men
And I am determined to set thee free

"Oh no, oh no," Bold Dickie he cried
"Oh no, that never can be
For I've full forty weight of good Spanish iron
Betwixt my anklebone and my knee"

But they broke bolts and they broke bars
And they broke whatever came in their way
And they took the poor prisoner under his arms
And they marched him out courageously

So they mounted their horses and away rode they
Who but they so merrily
Until they came to the riverside
Where they all dismounted sorrowfully

"Bold Archie, Bold Archie," Bold Dickie he cried
"Come and speak a word with me
My horse is lame and he cannot swim
And oh, I fear this day I dee"

"Oh no, oh no," Bold Archie he cried
"Oh no, that never can be
My horse is strong and I know he swims
He will take us both over most joyfully"

So they mounted their horses and away rode they
Who but they so merrily
Until they came to the other side
Where they all dismounted most sorrowfully

"Bold Archie, Bold Archie," the sheriff he cried
"Come and speak a word with me
If you'll bring back the iron that you carried off
I am sure we will set the poor prisoner free."

"Oh no, oh no," Bold Archie he cried
"Oh no, that never can be
Well the iron will serve to shoe our horses
And a blacksmith he rides in our company"

So they mounted their horses and away rode they
Who but they so merrily
Until they came to the tavern gate
Where they all dismounted most joyfully

They hired a fiddle, they hired a room
Who but they so merrily
And one of the best dancers that was in the room
Was this poor prisoner just set free

From the Frank Warner collection
@outlaw
Child #187 and/or
Child #188
This seems to be assumed to be local on both sides of the
Atlantic.
Recorded by Tony Rose
filename[ BOLDARCH
play.exe BOLDARCH
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD BENJAMIN

Brave Admiral Cole he's gone to sea, oh, my boys, oh!
Brave Admiral Cole he's gone to sea, oh!
Brave Admiral Cole he's gone to sea,
Along of our ship's company,
On board the bold Benjamin, oh!

We sailed our course away for Spain, oh, my boys, oh!
We sailed our course away for Spain, oh!
We sailed our course away for Spain,
Our silver and gold for to gain,
On board the bold Benjamin, oh!

We sailed out five hundred men, oh, my boys, oh!
We sailed out five hundred men, oh!
We sailed out five hundred men,
And brought back but sixty one.
They were lost in bold Benjamin, oh!
And when we came to Blackwall, oh, my boys, oh!
And when we came to Blackwall, oh!
And when we came to Blackwall,
Our captain so loudly did call:
'Here comes the bold Benjamin, oh!'

Here's the mothers crying for their sons, oh ,my boys, oh!
Here's the mothers crying for their sons, oh!
Here's the mothers crying for their sons,
And the widows for their husbands
That were lost in bold Benjamin, oh!

Sung by Mr. Taunton Corscombe, Dorset (H.E.D.H. 1907)
@sailor @war
filename[ BOLDBENJ
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLD BLACK AND TAN

Says Lloyd-George to Macpherson, "l give you the sack,
To uphold law and order you haven't the knack,
I'll send over Greenwood, a much stronger man,
And fill up the Green Isle with the bold Black and Tan."


He sent them all over to pillage and loot
And burn down the houses, the inmates to shoot .
" To re-conquer Ireland, he said, is my plan
With Macready and Co. and his bold Black and Tan."


The town of Balbriggan they've burned to the ground
While bullets Like hailstones were whizzing around;
And women left homeless by this evil clan.
They've waged war on the children, the bold Black and Tan.

From Dublin to Cork and from Thurles to Mayo
Lies a trail of destruction wherever they go;
With England to help and fierce passions to fan,
She must feel bloody proud of her bold Black and Tan.

Ah, then not by the terrors of England's foul horde,
For ne'er could a nation be ruled by the sword;
For our country we'll have yet in spite of her plan
Or ten times the number of bold Black and Tan.

We defeated Conscription in spite of their threats,
And we're going to defeat old Lloyd-George and his pets;
For Ireland and Freedom we're here to a man,
And we'll humble the pride of the bold Black and Tan.

from Irish Songs of Resistance, Galvin
@Irish @rebel
filename[ BLACKTAN
play.exe BLACKTAN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLD DESERTER

My parents reared me tenderly, I being their only son,
But little did they ever think that I should follow the drum;
Till at length I courted a fair pretty maid who soon did gain my
     heart,
She first advis'd me to enlist and then for to desert.

Oh! once I thought I never should be in this dejected state,
A poor distracted effigy expos'd to hardships great.
The birds that flutter in the trees strike terror to my heart,
And every star alarmeth me;  Oh! why did I desert?

'Twas under cover of a tree that I was forc'd to lie,
To shelter from my enemies although my friends were nigh;
Just like an owl that hides by day I dare not show my face,
But soon my journey I'll pursue and seek some friendly place.

My brother he came riding by not knowing I was there,,
My voice aloud to him did cry but me he could not hear;
His horse bore him from me away,  I could not bring him to,
So here distress'd Oh! I must be not knowing what to do.

My sword and sash and blue coat, too; all these I left behind,
And on my journey I'll pursue some secret place to find.
To the Light Horse I must bid adieu, which once was my delight,
And now my journey I'll pursue and travel in the night.

Now to conclude and make an end to my deserting song,
I hope to shine in armour bright and that before too long;
Here's my Colonel and my officers have got clothes for me to wear
And if they'll combine and pardon me I will desert no more.

From The Constant Lovers, Purslow
@army @deserter
filename[ BOLDDSRT
play.exe BOLDDSRT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD FISHERMAN

C G7 C / G7 / F C G7 C / F C G7 C

There was a bold fisherman who sailed out from Pimlico
To slew the wild codfish and the bold mackerel.
When he arrived off Pimlico, the stormy winds did wildly blow
His little boat went wibble, wobble, and over board sprang he.

     G7 C G7 / G7 C /

     Singing:
     Twinki doodle dum, twinki doodle dum, twas the highly
          interesting song he sung.
     Twinki doodle dum, twinki doodle dum sang the bold fisherman.

He wriggled and scriggled in the water, so briny-O.
He yellowed and bellowed for help but in vain.
Then downward he did gently glide to the bottom of the silvery tide;
But previously to this he cried: "Fare the well Mar-i-Jane."

     Singing: . . .

His ghost walked at midnight to the bedside of his Mar-i-Jane
He told her how dead he was; said she: "I'll go mad."
"Since my love he is so dead," said she, "All joy on earth has fled
     for me."
"I never more will happy be.", and she went raving mad.

     Singing: . . .

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Sung by Humphrey Bogart, deadpan, in "The African Queen".

Words and music in 101+5 Folk Songs for Camp, page 54.
@kids @humor
filename[ BOLDFISH
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLD FISHERMAN

As I walked out one May morning
Down by the riverside;
'Twas there I saw a bold fisherman
Come rowing o'er the tide.
Come rowing o'er the tide,
'Twas there I saw a bold fisherman
Come rowing o'er the tide.

"Good morning, brother fisherman,
What brings you down this way?"
"I come to court some lady gay
From o'er the rolling sea." etc.

He tied his boat unto the strand
And straightway to her went,
He took her by the lily-white hand,
Which was his full intent. etc.
Then he pulled off his morning gown
And throwed it on the ground;
When then she saw three chains of gold
Around his neck hung down. etc.

She fell upon her bended knee,
"O pardon, sir, I crave
For calling you a bold fisherman
From o'er the rowing wave." etc.

"Now nothing have you done amiss
That has offended me;
But come unto your father's house
And married we will be." etc.

from Ballads Migrant in New England, Flanders
Collected from Charles Fenimore, ME, 1942
tune "FISHBLD2" from English Folk Songs, Sharp
filename[ FISHBOLD
play.exe FISHBOLD
play.exe FISHBLD2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLD LIBRARIAN
(Joy Rutherford)

Oh, some, they like the sailor man
When he comes back to shore,
And some they like the beggar man
That begs from door to door,
And some, they like the soldier man
With his musket and his can,
But my delight can read and write,
He's the bold librarian.

Now, this librarian, he rode out all in the dewy morn,
And he met with the farmer's daughter and loudly he blew his horn.
"Come in my bold librarian, and I'll mek thee a pot of tea.
Me father, and mother have gone to town and there's nobody here but me."

"I have a book for your mother, dear, called, `Love that dare not speak,'
And another for your old father called, `Gunfighters of Mustang Creek,'
But nothing I have for you, my dear," this librarian did say,
"But anything you shall request you shall have it right away."

"OO'," said the farmer's daughter and she glowed all over with fire.
"Is it true you can bring your readers anything they desire?"
"Oh, yes," said the bold librarian, "Oh, yes, indeed I will.
Take me up to your chamber and I'll show you my ... professional skill."

So they went upstairs together and they laid down on the bed,
And he faceted her in every detail from `A' unto `Zed',
'Til he couldn't classify her under maidens anymore.
He said, "Such dynamic service you've never had before."

Now this librarian he arose and he put on all his clothes,
And out of his pocket he drew handfuls of gold,
Saying, "Take this, my dearest Polly, for thee and thy baby.
It really belongs to the Book Fund, but I'll give it all to thee."

Oh come, my bold librarian and won't you marry me?
Oh no, my dearest Polly, such things can never be,
For married I am already to a quiet little thing.
I've a first and second edition and a third coming out in spring.

"But dost tha truly love me?" the farmer's daughter said.
"What d'you mean," said the librarian, "Just because we've been to bed?
In my most high profession love and sex cannot combine,
[spoken]
Because SEX is 612.6 and LOVE, which I classify under virtues not
otherwise accounted for, is 179.9

Come all you pretty fair maids, this warning you must heed;
You must marry some simple ploughboy who can neither write nor read.
For he may be poor and humble, but he'll love you the best he can.
And have naught to do with that roving blade who drives the library van.

@sex @love @work @parody
filename[ BOLDLIBR
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLD NAVIGATORS (THE NAVVIES)

On Monday morning we make it a rule
For every man to choose his own tool
For he that come first may choose of the best
And he who comes last may take all the rest.

cho: For that's the rule of the bold navigator
     For we are jovial banksmen all.

On Tuesday morning when we go to work,
We strip off our jackets and tighten our shirts
We strip off our jackets and let them go free
We drive our poles by one, two or three.

It's when we come to the bottom run
We fill our barrows to our chin
We fill our barrow breast high
If you don't whell it another will try.

It's when that we come to the main plank wheel
We lower our hands and hold fast on our heels
For if the plank dows bend or go
Our ganger on the top cries "lookout below!"

When wqe are struck by heavy frost or snow,
We'll blow up our mess and away we'll go
We'll call to our timekeeper without any damp
To let us have our time before we go on tramp.

When that it does begin for to rain
We'll take our barrows and all gang in
For it's into a whiskey shop we go
We don't give a damn whether we work or no.

Well tell our landlady without any damp
We'll ____ up her tommy shop before we go on tramp,
For that's the rule of the bold navigator
For we are jovial banksmen all.

We'll tell our gaffer before we do go
That it's not our rule to pay what we owe,
For that's the rule of the bold navigator
For we are jovial banksmen all.

From Victoria's Inferno, Raven
From a broadside (Manchester library); tune "structured
     from  traditional elements by Jon Raven"
"tommy shop"= company store
@work @navvy
filename[ BLDNAVVY
play.exe BLDNAVVY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD O'DONAHUE

Well, here I am from Paddy's land, a land of high renown
I've broke the hearts of all the girls for miles round Keady town
And when they hear that I'm awa' they'll raise a hullabaloo
When they hear about that handsome lad they call Jack Donahue!

cho: For I'm the boy to squeeze her, and I'm the boy to tease her
     I'm the boy that can please her, ach, an' I'll tell you what I'll do
     I'll court her like an Irishman
     Wi' me brogue and blarney too is me plan
     With the holligan, rolligan, swolligan, molligan bold O'Donahue!

I wish my love was a red. red rose growing on yon garden wall
And me to be a dewdrop and upon her brow I'd fall!
Perhaps now she might think of me as a rather heavy dew
And no more she'd love that handsome lad they call O'Donahue!

Well I hear that Queen Victoria has a daughter fine and grand
Perhaps she'd take it into her head for to marry an Irishman
And if I could only get the chance to have a word or two
I'm sure she'd take a notion to the bold O'Donahue!

Recorded by the Clancy Brothers
@Irish @brag
filename[ BOLDODON
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLD PIRATE

`Twas on the eighteenth day of March
  We sailed from Bristol Town,
And we sail-ed all that livelong day
  Till the night came rolling on.

And then we saw a bold pirate
  Sailing three foot to our one;
He hail-ed us in English,
  And asked us whence we come,

We told him we was from Bristol Town,
  And on our course was bound,
And ask-ed of him the reason why
  He ran us so fast down.

Up spoke this bold old pirate,
  `I soon will let you know!
Haul down your fore and main courses
  And let your ship lie to,

`And if you fire one shot at me,
  This instant you I'll sink,
And every man you have on board
  This day shall walk the plank.'

Then up spoke our brave commander,
  And says, `No such thing can be
While we have twenty-eight brass guns
  To bear us company.

`Besides, we have three hundred men,
  All British seamen hold.
Who value more their honor
  Than a miser does his gold.'

Then this bold pirate boarded us
  With three hundred of his men;
With pistols, pikes and cutlasses
  We soon did slaughter them.

He haul-ed down our ensign flag,
  Thinking our royal ship to take;
We ran them such a rig, my boys,
  Made their very hearts to ache.

Then this bold pirate boarded us
  With the remainder of his men;
By the word of our commander bold,
  We soon did slaughter them.

And out of that five hundred men
  We reduc-ed them to three,
And down on their knees for mercy cried,
  But none it was their due.

Then this bold pirate strove from us,
  And tried to run away;
But a broadside from a rounded gun
     Caus-ed him to stay.

We h'isted out our boats from the buoys
  And boarded her immediately;
And there we saw this bold commander
  With both legs shot off to his knees.

We took her all in tow, my boys,
  What a glorious sight to see
We towed her in to the sight of land,
  Beside the Bristol quay,

Where each one had his fortune made
  And we all got safe on shore.
We'll ask one another to dine together
  And not plough thu sea any more.

Collected from three ladies over eighty years old in 1924, of Baker &
Little Cranberry Islands. They learned it when children from their
father, Joseph Gilley.  _Minstrelsy of Maine_ (Eckstorm & Smyth, 1927)
Page 254.  There was no prior record of this song. AJS

@pirate @sailor @battle
filename[ BOLDPRT
AJS

























--- Blue Wave/RA v2.12 [NR]
--
|Fidonet:  Abby Sale 1:363/137
|Internet: [e-mail]|
| Standard disclaimer: The views of this user are strictly his own.
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD POACHERS

Concerning of three young men
One night in January
According law's contrary
A-poaching went straight way

They were inclined to ramble
Amongst the trees and brambles
A-firing at the pheasants
Which brought the keepers up

The keepers dared not enter
Nor cared the woods to venture
But outside near the centre
In them old bush they stood

The poachers they were tired
And to leave they were desired
And at last young Parkins fired
and spilled one keeper's blood

Fast homeward they were making
Nine pheasants they were taking
When another keeper faced them
They fired at him also

He on the ground lay crying
Just like some person dying
With no assistance nigh him
They can't forgive their crime

Then they were taken with spee
For their inhumanity
It caused their heart to bleed
For they're of tender years

That scene before was never
Three brothers tried together
Three brothers condemned for poaching
Found guilty as they stood

Exiled in transportion
Two brothers they were taken
And the other one hang as a token
They can't forgive his crime

recorded by Steeleye Span on "Parcel Of Rogues" (1973)
@hunt @law @murder @poaching
filename[ POACHRS
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLD PRINCESS ROYAL

On the fourteenth of April we sailed from the strand
In the bold Princess Royal, bound to Rio Grande.
We had not left the shore more than one day or two
A man from the main-top cried, "Sail ho in view."

She came bearing down on us with sail set so high;
On her main topmast black colors did fly.
"If it should be a pirate what are we going to do?
She'll give us a broadside, she'll soon heave us to!"

She came bearing down on us with sail set so neat;
With a loud-speaking trumpet to us he did speak.
Our captain jumped on deck and answered him so,
"I'm out from Gibraltar bound to Callao! "

"Back your maintops'l, heave your ship to!
I am a close pirate, I've a message for you."
"I'll back my maintops'l, I'll heave my ship to,
But 'twill be in some harbor, not alongside of you!"

We shook [out?] our close reefs, spread topgallant sails also;
With royals and skysails from the pirate we did go.
He chased us the whole day but held us no play
He brailed in the spanker and then bore away.

Now, all my brave boys, since the pirate has gone,
Here's a cask of good whiskey, another of rum.
Go down to your hammocks, boys; there drink till day,
For the bold Princess Royal from the pirate sailed away!

From Shantymen and Shanty-Boys, Doerflinger
Note: two tunes given are from the same source; second tune
  collected by Bayard.
@sailor @battle @pirate
filename[ PRNCRYL
play.exe PRNCRYL
play.exe PRNCRYL2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD PRIVATEER

1.  "Oh Mary, darling Mary, since you and I must part,
     I'm going to cross the ocean and leave with you my heart;
     Since you are the mistress of ten thousand pounds a year
     I must venture my life on board of the bold privateer."

2.  "Oh, Willie, darling Willie, stay at home if you can,
    Many a man has lost his life since this cruel war began.
    Stay at home, dear Willie, with the girl who loves you dear
    Do not venture your life on board of the bold privateer."

3.  "Your father and your mother both owe me a great spite,
    Likewise your brother has threatened my life.
    I'm in hopes that soon from their anger I'll get clear
    If I once set my foot on board of the bold privateer."

4.  "Oh, Mary, darling Mary, ten thousand times adieu
    Our good ship lies at anchor will all her jolly crew,
    We'll run up our colours till our purpose we make clear
    We will soon let them know that we are the bold privateer.

5.  And now this war is over and God has spared our lives,
    Some men are returning to their sweethearts and their wives,
    But I am returning to the arms of my dear
    For I ventured my life on board of the bold privateer."

@parting @sailor @reunion
filename[ BOLDPRIV
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD RILEY

Our anchor's aweigh and our sails are all set,
     Bold Riley-oh, boom-a- lay!
And the folks we are leaving, we'll never forget,
     Bold Riley-oh, gone away!

cho: Goodbye, me darlin', goodbye, me dear-oh,
     Bold Riley-oh, boom-a-lay,
     Goodbye, me darlin' goodbye, me dear-oh,
     Bold Riley-oh, gone away.

Wake up Mary Ellen, and don't look so glum,
By Whitestocking time, you'll be drinking hot rum.

The rain it is raining now all the day long,
And the northerly wind, it does blow so strong.

We're outward and bound for Bengal bay,
Get bendin', me boys, it's a hell of a way.

Recorded by Warner and Davis
@sailor
filename[ BOLDRILY
play.exe BOLDRILY
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD ROBIN HOOD AND THE PEDLAR

"What have you got, you pedlar trim?
What have you got, pray tell to me?"
"It's seven suits of the gay green silk,
Beside my bow-strings two or three."

"If you've seven suits of the gay green silk,
Besides your bow-strings two or three,
Upon my word," said Little John,
"One half of them belong to me."

The pedlar then took off his pack,
And laid it down most manfully,
Saying, "The man that can drive me two feet from this,
The pack and all I will give to thee."

Then Little John he drew his sword.
The noble pedlar held his hand.
They swaggered swords till the sweat did drop,
Saying, "Noble pedlar, stay your hand.

Then Robin Hood, he drew his sword.
The noble pedlar held his hand.
They swaggered swords till the blood did drop,
Saying, "Noble pedlar, stay your hand."

"What is your name, you pedlar trim?
What is your name, pray tell to me?"
"Not one bit of it; of my name you'll get
Till both of yours you tell to me." .

"My name is Bold Robin Hood,
The other Little John so free,
And now it lies within your breast
To tell us what your name can be."

"My name is Bold Gammon gay,
And I came far beyond the sea;
For killing a man in my father's court
I was banished from my own country."

"Your name it is Bold Gammon gay,
And you came far beyond the sea;
And if we are two sister's sons ;
What nearer kindred need we be?"

From Ballads Migrant in New England, Flanders
Collected from Mrs. W. H. Smith, Houlton, ME 1940

Note: one of the very few Robin Hood ballads collected in this
 century. RG
Child #132
@ballad @fight @outlaw
filename[ RHPEDLAR
play.exe RHPEDLAR
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD ROBIN HOOD AND THE THREE SQUIRES

Bold Robin Hood marched along the highway,
Along the highway marched he,
Until he met with a lady fair
A-weeping along the highway,

"O do you mourn for gold," he says,
"Or do you mourn for fee,
Or do you mourn for any high knight
That deserted your company?"

"No, I don't mourn for gold," she said,
"Nor I don't mourn for fee,
Nor I don't mourn for any high knight
That deserted my company.

"But I do mourn for my three sons
Today they're condemned to die;
In Nottingham town so fast they lie bound,
In Nottingham prison they lie."

"O have they sat any temple on fire
Or any high knight have they slain
Or have they enticed fair maidens to sin
Or with married men's wives have they lain?"

"No, they've not sat any temple on fire
Nor any high knight have they slain
Nor they've not enticed fair maidens to sin
Nor with married men's wives they've not lain."

"But they have killed the King's fallow deer.
Today they're condemned to die.
In Nottingham town so fast they lie bound,
In Nottingham prison they lie."

"Go home, go home," said bold Robin Hood.
"And weep no more to-day
And I will stand hangman this livelong day
To hang the Squires all three."

Then Robin Hood called on his merry men
By one, by two and by three.
"When you hear three blasts on my bugle horn
You must hasten most speedily."

Bold Robin Hood marched along the highway.
Along the highway marched he,
Until be met with an old beggarman
A-begging along the highway.

"Good morning, good morning, my old beggarman,
What news do you bring to me?"
"There is weeping and wailing in all Nottingham
For the loss of the Squires all three.' '

"Come change your clothing," said bold Robin Hood,
"Come change your clothing for mine.
Here's fifty bright guineas I'II give in exchange.
'Twill buy you cake and wine."

Robin Hood put on the beggarman's clothes.
They were made of hemp and tow.
"They will cause me to scrub," said bold Robin Hood,
"But further to-day I must go."

Bold Robin Hood marched along the highway,
Along the highway marched he,
Until he met with the Master High Sheriff,
And with him the Squires three.

"Good morning, good morning, my old beggarman,
What can I do for thee?"
"I want to stand hangman this livelong day
To hang the Squires three."

"Yes you can have all of their gay clothing,
And all of their bright money
And you may stand hangman this livelong day,
To hang the Squires three."

"I don't want none of their gay clothing,
Nor none of their bright money;
But I want three blasts on my bugle horn
That their souls in Heaven might be."

Bold Robin Hood marched to the gallus so high,
To the gallus so high marched he,
And by his side was the Master High Sheriff
And with him the Squires three.

He put the bugle unto his mouth,
He blew it loud and shrill.
A hundred and ten of bold Robin Hood's men
Come trippeling over the hill.

"Whose men, whose men?" cried the High Sheriff,
"Whose men?,I pray, tell me."
"They are mine and not thine." Said bold Robin Hood
"Come to borrow three squires of thee."

"O take them, O take them," then cried the High Sheriff;
"O take them, O take them," cried he.
"But there's not another beggar in all Nottingham
Could borrow three more from me."

Note: One of the few Robin Hood ballads collected during this
past century. RG
Child #140
@ballad @outlaw @rescue
filename[ RH3SQUIR
play.exe RH3SQUIR
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD ROBINSON

Come all you young fellows
That delight in a little game;
Come listen unto me
And I will tell you plain.
It's of two champions bold
They fought for a sum of gold
And the talk was that young Robinson
Was sure to win the day.

cho: Young Tiley, huzzoo!
     Brave Tiley, huzzoo!
     Brave Robinson forever
     And young Tiley, huzzoo!
Their stage it had been builded
And the champions on the ground;
And fifty bright new guineas
These champions did put down.
And for fifty bright new guineas,
These champions they did play
And the talk was that young Robinson
Was sure to win the day.

'Twas in the fourteenth round, boys,
These champions they did meet,
With their bodies sorely wounded
And their hearts all full of grief,
When suddenly, young Tiley
Gave brave Robinson a blow,
Saying, I will be the champion,
Wherever I do go.

The battle being over
And young Tiley he had won.
A lady fell in love with him
For the victory be had gained.
And if he do recover
A gay wedding shall be seen.
But young Tiley he died
At the end of days three.

 Last chorus:
    Young Tiley, huzzoo!,
    Brave Robinson, huzzoo!
    And the ladies went in mourning
    For young Tiley, huzzoo.

From Room for Company, Palmer
Note:Robinson actually fought Tyler in 1856, resulting in a draw
after 16 rounds, or knock-downs, when the police broke it up
(boxing was illegal). Tyler died in 1858.
@fight @sport @death
filename[ BLDRBNSN
play.exe BLDRBNSN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLD THADY QUIL

Ye maids of Dunhallow who're anxious for courting
A word of advice I will give unto ye:
Proceed to Banteer, to the athletic sporting
And hand in your name to the club committee.
But do not commence any sketch of your progress
till a carriage ye see comin' over the hill,
And down through the valleys and glens of Kilcorney
With that Muskerry sportsman, the bold Thady Quill

cho: For ramblin', for rovin', for football or courtin'
     For drinkin' strong liquor as fast as you fill;
     In all your days rovin', you'll find none so jovial
     As the Muskerry sportsman, the bold Thady Quill.


Thady was famous in many other places;
At the athletic meeting held out in Cloghroe
He won the long jump without throwing off his braces
Goin' fifty=four feet every sweep he woultd throw.
At the pullin' o' the weight there was a Dublin man foremost
But Thady outreached and exceeded him still
And around the whole field rang the wild ringing chorus
"Here's luck to our hero! the bold Thady Quill."

At the great hurlin' match between Cork and Tipperary
'Twas played in the park by the banks of the Lee
Our own darlin' boys were afraid of being baten,
So they send for bold Thady to Ballinagree.   '
He hurled the ball left and right in their faces
And show'd those Tipp'rary boys learnin' and skill
If they came in this way, shure he surely would brain' em
And the papers full of the praise for Thade Quill.

In the year ninety-one before Parnell was taken,
Thade was outrageously breaking the peace
He got a light sentence for causin' commotion,
And six months hard labour for batin' police.
But in spite of coercion he's still agitatin'
Ev'ry drop of his life's blood he's willing to spill,
To gain for old Ireland complete liberation,
"Till then there's no rest for me" says bold Thady Quill

At the Cork Exhibition there was a fair lady,
Whose fortune exceeded a million or more;
But a bad constitution had ruined her completely,
And medical treatment had failed o'er and o'er.
"Oh Mama" said she, I know what'll cure me
And all me diseases most certainly kill,
Give over your doctors and medical treatment,
I'd rather one squeeze outa bold Thady Quill.

Recorded by Clancys
@Irish @sport
filename[ THADQUIL
play.exe NELLFLAH
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLL WEEVIL

Oh, have you heard de lates',
Dc lates' of de songs?
It's about dem little Boll Weevils,
Dey's picked up bofe feet an' gone

     A-lookin' for a home,
     Jes a-lookin' for a home.

De Boll Weevil is a little bug
F'um Mexico, dey say,
He come to try dis Texas soil
En thought he better stay,

De nigger say to de Boll Weevil
"Whut makes yo' head so red?"
"I's been wanderin de whole worl' ovah
Till it's a wonder I ain't dead
First time I saw Mr. Boll Weevil,
He wuz on de western plain;
Next time I saw him,
He wuz ridin' on a Memphis train

De nex' time I saw him,
He was runnin' a spinnin' wheel;
De nex' time I saw him,
He was ridin' in an automobile

De fus' time I saw de Boll Weevil
He wuz settin' on de square,
The nex' time I saw de Boll Weevil
He had all his family dere

Then the Farmer got angry,
Sent him up in a balloon;
"Good-by, Mr. Farmer;
I'll see you again next June."

De Farmer took de Boll Weevil
An' buried him in hot san';
De Boll Weevil say to de Farmer
"I'll stan' it like a man"

Den de Farmer took de Boll Weevil
An' lef' him on de ice;
Says de Boll Weevil to de Farmer,
"Dis is mighty cool an' nice."

Mr. Farmer took little Weevil
And put him in Paris Green;
"Thank you, Mr. Farmer,
It's the best I ever seen."

Den de Farmer say to de Merchant:
"We's in an awful fix;
De Boll Weevil's et all de cotton up
An' lef' us only sticks."

Den de Merchant say to de Farmer,
"Whut do you tink o' dat ?
Ef you kin kill de Boll Weevil
I'll give you a bran-new Stetson hat"

Oh, de Farmer say to de Merchant,
"I ain't made but only one bale,
An' befo' I bring yo' dat one
I'll fight an' go to jail"

De Sharpshooter say to de Boll Weevil,
"What you doin' in dis square? "
An' the Boll Weevil say to de Sharpshooter,
"I'se makin' my home in here."

Oh de Boll Weevil say to the Dutchman,
"Jes' poison me ef yo' dare,
An' when yo' come to make yo' crop
I'll punch out every square"

De Boll Weevil say to de Farmer,
"You better lemme alone,
I've et up all yo' cotton
An' now I'll begin on de co'n"

Boll Weevil say to de Doctor,
"Better po' out all yo' pills,
When I git through wid de Farmer,
He cain't pay no doctor's bills."

Boll Weevil say to de Preacher,
"You better close yo' chu'ch do',
When I git through wid de Farmer,
He cain't pay de Preacher no mo'"

De Merchant got half de cotton,
De Boll Weevil got de res'
Didn't leave de nigger's wife
But one old cotton dress.
 (And it's full of holes, etc.)

Rubber-tired buggy,
Decorated hack,
Took dem Boll Weevils to de graveyard,
An' ain't goin' bring 'em back.

Ef anybody axes you
Who wuz it writ dis song,
Tell 'em 'twuz a dark-skinned nigger
Wid a pair o' blue duckins on,
  A-lookin' for a home etc.

From American Ballads and Folk Songs, Lomax
Note: Use a bit of imagination in adapting the chorus to the
     verses.."It'll be my home", or "Ain't got no home" etc.
@animal @cotton @farm   @bug
filename[ BOLLWEEV
play.exe BOLLWEEV
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOLL WEEVIL

The Boll Weevil is a little black bug
From Mexico they say
Come all the way to Texas
Just a lookin'for a place to stay.

 Chorus:
  Gonna get yo'home.
  Gonna get yo'home.
  ( Repeat after each verse)

The Farmer said to the Boll Weevil
I see you on the Square.
Yes,  sir,  said the Boll Weevil
My whole dam family's there.

The Farmer said to the Merchant
I want some meat and meal
Get outta here,  you Son of a Gun
Got Boll Weevil in yo' field.

The Farmer said to the Finance Man
I'd like to make out a note.
Go to hell,  you rascal you,
Gotta Boll Weevil on yo' coat.

Farmer said to the Banker,
I'd like to cash this check
Get outta here you Clodhopper,
Gotta Boll Weevil down yo' neck.

Boll Weevil said to the Farmer
I'll swing right on yo' gate,
When I git through with yo' cotton,
You'll sell that Cadillac Eight!

Boll Weevil said to the Doctor,
Better put away your pills,
When I git through with the Farmer,
Caint pay no Doctor bills!

Boll Weevil said to the Preacher,
Better close up them church doors
When I git through with the Farmer,
Caint pay no Preacher no more!

Boll Weevil said to the Business Man,
Boy, drink that cool lemonade.
When I git through with you, boy,
Gonna drag you outta that shade!

Boll Weevil in yo' field, boy,
It's just like shooting dice,
Work the whole dam year round,
But the cotton won't bring no price:

The Boll Weevil knocked on my front door,
He said I've come to eat,
I'm gonna starve you plumb to death
And get the shoes right off yo' feet.

From Hard Hitting Songs, Guthrie et al
Copyright (would you believe it) by John A. Lomax and Alan Lomax
@bug    @farm
filename[ BLLWEEV2
play.exe BLLWEEV2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOLOGNA

Two Irishmen and a Hebrew once went out for recreation.
They took enough provisions along to spend a week's vacation.
But they got lost out in the woods. The nights grew dark and lonely
'Till last of all of their food ran out, except a piece of bologna.

Now one of them said as he picked up a knife,
``There's no use in us carvin' for there's not enough nutrition in here,
To keep us all from starvin'. so I suggest we go to bed,
And tomorrow,'' said Mahoney, ``Whoever has the nicest dream,
Will win the piece of bologna.''

The following morning when they awoke, a quarter after seven,
The first one said, ``I had a dream, I died and went to Heaven.
Saint Peter met me at the gate, he said `Hello, Mahoney,'
I don't think you can beat that dream. I win the bologna.''

The next one said, ``I had a dream too, and mine was a world-beater.
I also died and went to heaven, welcomed by Saint Peter.
He rushed to me, held out his hand, he said `Hello, Maloney,'
I don't think you can beat that dream, I win the bologna.''

The Hebrew said, ``I'm dreamin' too, a dream that couldn't be sweeter.
I saw you both go up to Heaven, welcomed by Saint Peter.
I waited and waited and waited some more, and oh, I got so lonely,
I thought you was not coming back, so I got up and ate the bologna!''

@food @dream
filename[ BOLOGNA
play.exe WEASLPOP
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOMB

Some friends and I have worked for years in deepest secrecy
The work went on around the clock and I look for a treat
We've built the perfect weapon, we're unveiling it today
It turns the tanks to butter, but the people walk away.

     The bomb, the bomb, we finally built the perfect bomb
     It's impossible to stop, I can hardly wait to drop
     The bomb, the bomb, we finally built the perfect bomb
     I'll tell you what I'm counting on, the bomb, the bomb

The blast extends for miles and it doesn't harm a soul
Every missile warhead turns into a lump of coal
The guns all turn to licorice, the knives all break in two
The grenades are filled with flowers, colored red and white and
blue.

     CHORUS
The wonders of our perfect bomb are very strange to tell
It doesn't only change the guns, it changes hearts as well
An instant of exposure to its penetrating ray
Will turn a Yassar Arafat into a Danny Kay

     CHORUS

But perhaps its greatest feature, its happiest surprise
Is the way our perfect weapon searches out the meanest lies
It captures them completely, and before the bomb is through
Every word a politician says is absolutely true

     CHORUS

I'll tell you what I'm counting on, the bomb, the bomb.
Copyright Tom Paxton
By Tom Paxton on his Bulletin Album on HogEye label.
@political @war
filename[ THEBOMB
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONEY

Boney was a warrior
     Away, a- yah!
A warrior and a tarrier
     John Franswor!

Boney fought the Roo-shi-ans
The Rooshians and the Proo-shi-ans.

Moscow was a-blazing
And Boney was a-raging.

Boney went to Elbow
Boney he came back again.

Boney went to Waterloo
There he got his overthrow.

Then they took him off again
Aboard the Billy Ruffian.

Boney broke his heart and died
Away in Saint A-lee-ay-na

Give her the t'gan's'ls
Its a weary way to Baltimore.

Drive her, Cap'n, drive her
And bust the chafing leather.

Short drag chanty. This version From Colcord, Songs of American
     Sailormen. Elbow = Elba; Billy Ruffian = H.M.S. Bellerophon;
     t'gan's'ls = topgallantsails; A-lee-ay-na = Helena
Recorded by John and Lucy Allison
@sailor
filename[ BONEYNAP
play.exe BONEYNAP
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONIE LESLEY
(Robert Burns)

O, Saw ye bonie Lesley,
   As she gaed o'er the Border?
She's gane, like Alexander,
  To spread her conquests farther!

To see her is to love her,
   And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
  And never made anither!

Thou airt a queen, fair Lesley-
   Thy subjects, we before thee!
Thou art divine, fair Lesley-
  The hearts o' men adore thee.

The Deil he could na skaith thee,
   Or aught that wad belang thee,
He'd look into thy bonie face,
  And say:-'I canna wrang thee!'

The Powers aboon will tent thee,
   Misfortune sha'na steer thee:
Thou'rt like themsels sae lovely,
   That ill they'll ne'er let near thee

Return again, fair Lesley,
   Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag we hae a lass
   There's nane again sae bonie.

Tune: The Colliers Dochter (339)
filename[ BONLSLEY
play.exe BONLSLEY
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNET OF BLUE

A ship's crew of sailors from London did steer
On a voyage to the West Indies they were bound
There is one lad among them that I wish I never knew
He is my bonny sailor lad with his jacket so blue so blue.

Very early one morning as I arose from my bed
I called for my Betsy my chief serving maid
Saying come now and dress me nice as your two hands can do
And I'll run away with my sailor lad with his jacket so blue

Now as I walked down all by the sea side
My love like the lightning away she did glide
And I for my true love oh what could I do
And away went my heart with her bonnet so blue

She says honored sailor I will be your discharge
I'll free you from a man-of-war and set you at large
And if you'll prove constant and always prove true
You'll never set a stain on my bonnet so blue

But I have a fair girl in my own country
And I never could forsake her for her poverty
For she always proved constant and always proved true
I would never set a stain on her bonnet so blue

From Songs the Whalemen Sang, Huntington
Collected from the Journal of Catalpa, 1856
@sailor @courting
filename[ BONTBLU2
play.exe BONTBLUE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNET OF BLUE

It was down in Woolwich, a town in Yorkshire.
I lived at my ease and was free from all care.
I lived in great splendour, had sweethearts ane or twa
Till stuck wi' the lad in his bonnet o' blue.

His cheeks were like roses, his eyes were like sloes
He's handsome and proper where'er that he goes
Likewise he's good-natured and comely to view.
Right well he becomes his fine bonnet o' blue.

'Twas a regiment of soldiers, as now you shall know.
From Scotland to Queenstown abroad for to go.
But there's one amongst them I wish I'd ne'er knew.
He's a fine Scottish lad wi' his bonnet o' blue.

"Twas early next morning I rose out of bed
I called on Sally, she's my dressing maid
"Come dress me as quick as your twa hands can do
And I'll go and see the lad wi' his bonnet o' blue'

So quickly she dressed me, so quickly I came
To mingle with them and to hear my love's name
Charlie Stewart that they called him, I felt it twas true
A prince o' that name wore a bonnet o' blue

When I came to the regiment, it was on parade.
I stood with great pleasure to hear what was said;
Charlie Stewart that they ca'd him I felt it was true.
He's a fine Scottish lad wi' his bonnet o' blue.

My love he marched by wi' his gun in his hand.
I strove to speak to him, but he would nae stand.
l strove to speak to him, but away quick he flew.
Away wi' my hairt an' that bonnet o' blue.

I said, "Wait a wee, laddie, an' I'll buy your discharge
Free you frae the regiment and set you at large
If you will be promised to be constant and true
An' ne'er put a stain on your bonnet o' blue

He says, "Ma wee lassie, you'll buy my discharge
Free me frae the regiment and set me at large
For a' your kind of offers I'm oblig-ed to you
But I'll ne'er put a stain on my bonnet o' blue

"I've a lass o' my ain in my ain countrie
And I'll never forsake her for her poverty.
To the lass that I lo'e I will always prove true.
But ne'er put a stain on my bonnet o' blue."

I'll send for a limner from London or Hull
And have my love's portrait taken out in the fu'.
And in my bed-chamber each morning I'll view
That fine Scottish lad wi' his bonnet o' blue."

Recorded by Jean Matthew on A Soldier's Life for Me
  (Folksongs of Britain, vol 8)
tune "BONTBLUE" from Songs the Whalemen Sang, Huntington
@soldier @love
filename[ BONTBLUE
play.exe BONTBLUE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE ANNIE

There was a rich merchant wha lived in Strathdinah.
And he had ae dochter whose name it was Annie.

There was a rich merchant wha cam' frae Dumbarton.
And he's got this bonnie lassie big, big wi' bairn.

Ye'll tak' ship wi' me and ye'll be my honey;
What more could a woman do than I'll do for ye?"

"O captain, tak' gold, O captain' tak' money'
And steer for dry land for the sake of my honey."

"How can l tak` gold. how can I tak' money?
There's fey folk on my ship, she winna sail for me."

"Tak' me by the fingers and lift me up heely
And throw me owre board and hae nae pity on me."

He's ta'en her by the fingers and did lift her up heely
And thrown her owre board though she was his ain dearie.

Her goon it was wide and her pettycoat narrow.
And she swam afore them till they cam' to Yarrow.

His love she was there when they ca'd to dry land,
And her lyin' deid on the saut'sea strand.

Her baby was born and lying at her feet
For the loss of his bonnie love sair did he greet.

He's caused mak' a kist o' the gowd sae yellow,
And they a' three sleep i' the braes o' Yarrow.

Child #24
From Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland, MacColl
@ballad @death
filename[ BONNYANN
play.exe BONNYANN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE AT MORN

The sheep's in the meadow and the kye are in the corn
Thou's o'er lang in thy bed Bonnie at morn
The sheep's in the meadow and the kye are in the corn
Thou's o'er lang in thy bed Bonnie at morn

  Canny at e'en, bonnie at morn
  Thou's o'er lang in thy bed
  Bonnie at morn

We're a laid idle wi' the keeping o' the bairn
The lad widnae work and the lass widnae learn
We're a laid idle wi' the keeping o' the bairn
The lad widnae work and the lass widnae learn

The birdie's in the nest and the trout is in the burn
Thou hinders thy mother at every turn
The birdie's in the nest and the trout is in the burn
Thou hinders thy mother at every turn

@baby
sung by Jean Redpath
filename[ BONMORN
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE BLACK BESS

When fortune's blind goddess
Had fled my abode,
And friends proved unfaithful
I took to the road;
To plunder the wealthy
And relieve my distress,
I bought you to aid me,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

No vile whip nor spur
Did your sides ever gall,
For none did you need,
You would bound at my call;
And for each act of kindness
You would me caress.
Thou art never unfaithful,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

When dark, sable midnight
Her mantle had thrown
O'er the bright face of nature,
How oft we have gone
To the famed Hounslow heath,
Though an unwelcome guest
To the minions of fortune,
My Bonnie Black Bess!

How silent you stood
When the carriage I stopped!
The gold and the jewels
Its inmates would drop.
No poor man I plundered
Nor e'er did oppress
The widows or orphans,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

When Argus-eyed justice
Did me hot pursue,
From York town to London
Like lightning we flew.
No toll bars could stop you,
The waters did breast,
And in twelve hours we made it,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

But hate darkens o'er me,
Despair is my lot,
And the law does pursue me
For the many I've shot;
To save me, poor brute,
Thou hast done thy best,
Thou art worn out and weary,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

Hark! they never shall have
A beast like thee;
So noble and gentle
And brave, thou must die,
My dumb friend,
Though it does me distress.
There! There! I have shot thee,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

In after years
When I am dead and gone,
This story will be handed
From father to son;
My fate some will pity,
And some will confess
'Twas through kindness I killed
My Bonnie Black Bess.

No one can e'er say
That ingratitude dwelt
In the bosom of Turpin-
'Twas a vice never felt.
I will die like a man
And soon be at rest
Now, farewell forever
My Bonnie Black Bess.

From Cowboy Songs, Lomax
Note: "said to have been the most popular song among the cowboys
     in the Indian Territory". I haven't come across it in any
     other collection, though. RG
@outlaw @animal
filename[ BONNBESS
play.exe BONNBESS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE BLACK BESS

When blindness did guide me, I left my abode
When friends proved ungrateful, I took to the road
For to plunder the wealthy and relieve my distress
I bought you to aid me, my bonnie Black Bess.

How nobly you stood, when a coach I have shook
And the gold and the silver from its inmates I took
No poor man did I plunder or ever yet oppress
No widow, no orphan, my bonnie Black Bess

O'er hills and o'er valleys, through glens I rode you
From London to Yorkshire, like lightning you flew
No toll bars could halt you as rivers I breast
In twelve hours you reached it, my bonnie Black Bess.

Hark! the bloodhounds are howling and bugles loud sound
But the likes of my noble will never be found.
To part with you now it does me oppress
But my hand shall not waver, my bonnie Black Bess.

As the ages roll onward, and I'm dead and gone
This tale will be told from father to son
And some they will pity, while others confess
Through friendship I shot you, my bonnie Black Bess

No one will dare say that ingratitude dwelt
In the breast of Dick Turpin, 'twas a vice he never felt
I'll die like a man, and soon be at rest
Then farewell forever, my sweet bonnie Black Bess.

@outlaw @horse
filename[ BLCKBESS
play.exe BLCKBESS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE BLACK HARE

One morning in autumn by the dawn of the day
With my gun in good order I straight took my way
To hunt for some game to the woods I did steer
To see if I could find my bonnie black hare

I met a young damsel, her eyes black as sloes
Her teeth white as ivory, her cheeks like a rose
Her hair hung in ringlets on her shoulders bare
Sweet maiden, I cried, Did you see my bonnie black hare

This morning a-hunting I have been all around
But my bonnie black hare is not to be found
The maid she then answered and at him did stare
I never yet heard of, or saw, a black hare

My gun is in good order, my balls are also
And under your smock I was told she did go
So delay me no longer, I cannot stop here
One shot I will fire at your bonnie black hare

His gun he then loaded, determined he was
And instantly laid her down on the green grass
His trigger he drew, his balls he put near
And fire one shot at her bonnie black hare

Her eyes they did twinkle and smiling did say
How often, dearest sportsman, do you come this way
There is few in this country can with you compare
So fire once again at my bonnie black hare

His gun he reloaded and fired once more
She cried, draw your trigger and never give o'er
Your powder and balls are so sweet I declare
Keep shooting away at my bonnie black hare

He said, my dear maiden, my powder is all gone
My gun is out of order, I cannot ram home
But meet me tomorrow, my darling so fair
And I'll fire once more at your bonnie black hare

Recorded by Carthy & Swarbrick on Byker Hill; Fairport
Convention on Angel Delight
@bawdy
filename[ BLACKHAR
play.exe BLACKHAR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE BROOM (questions)

There was a lady lived in the North
     Lay the bend tae the bonnie broom
And she had lovely daughters three
     Fa la la la la la la la la la

There was a knight of noble worth
Who also lived into the north

O late one night it was cold and bright(?)
This knight he knocked at the lady's gate

The eldest daughter she let him in
O bend(?) the door with a silver pin

The second daughter she's made his bed
And linens face(?) so fine she spread

The youngest daughter so fair and bright
In one bed lay with this noble knight

Now that you've had your will of me
O then kind sir, will you marry me?

When you have answered me questions three
O then fair maid, we will married be

O what is louder than the horn
and what is sharper than the thorn

O thunder's louder than the horn
and hunger's sharper than the thorn

And what is longer than the way
and what is deeper than the sea

O love is longer than the way
and hell is deeper than the sea

O what is greener than the grass
And what's more wicked than a woman e'er was

O envy's greener than the grass
And the devil more wicked than a woman e'er was

As soon as she the fiend did name
He flew away in a blazing flame

_______
Child #1
from the collection of Ann O'Hayen Price
@myth
filename[ BONBROMQ
play.exe BONBROMQ
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNIE HOOSE O' AIRLIE

It fell on a day, on a bonnie summer's day,
When the sun shone bright and clearly,
That there fell oot a great dispute
Atween Argyll and Airlie.

Argyll he has mustered a thousand o'his men,
He as marched them oot richt early;
He has marched them in by the back  o' Dunkeld,
To plunder the bonnie hoose o'  Airlie.

Lady Ogilvie she looked frae her window sae high,
And O but she grat sairly,
To see Argyll and a' his men
Gome to plunder the bonnie hoose o' Airlie.

"Come doon, come doon, Lady Ogilvie" he cried:
"Come doon and kiss me fairly,
Or I swear by the hilt o'my guid braidsword
That I winna leave a stan'in' stane in Airlie."


"l winna come doon, ye cruel Argyll,
I winna kiss ye fairly;
I wadna kiss ye, fause Argyll,
Though ye sudna leave a stan'in' stane in Airlie."

"Gome tell me whaur your dowry is hid,
Gome doon and tell me fairly."
"l winna tell ye whaur my dowry is hid,
Though ye sudna leave a stan'in' stane in Airlie."

They socht it up and they socht it doon,
I wat they socht it early;
And it was below yon bowling green
They found the dowrie o' Airlie.

"Eleven bairns I hae born
And the twelfth ne'er saw his daddie,
But though I had gotten as mony again,
They sud a' gang to fecht for Charlie.

"Gin my guid lord had been at hame,
As he's awa' for Charlie,
There dursna a Campbell o' a' Argyll
Set a fit on the bonnie hoose o' Airlie."

He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
But he didna lead her fairly;
He led her up to the tap o' the hill,
Whaur she saw the burnin' o' Airlie.

The smoke and flame they rose so high
The walls they were blackened fairly;'
And the lady laid her doon on the green to dee
When she saw the burnin' o' Airlie. '

From Folksongs and Ballads of Scotland, MacColl
@Scots @war
Child #199
filename[ BONAIRLI
play.exe BONAIRLI
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE JEANNIE O' BETHELNIE

There was four and twenty nobles stood at the king's ha'
And bonnie Glenlogie was the flooer o' them a'
There was six and six nobles rade thro' Banchory fair
And bonnie Glenlogie was the flooer o' them there

There was nine and nine ladies sat in the king's ha'
Bonnie Jean o' Bethelnie was the flooer o' them a'
Doon cam Jeannie Gordon she cam tripping doonstairs
And she's favoured Glenlogie o' a' that was there

Glenlogie, Glenlogie gin ye will prove kind
My love's laid on you and I've told ye my mind
He turned him roond lightly as the Gordons does a'
I thank ye, Jeannie Gordon but I'm promised awa'

She ca'ed tae her maidens for tae make her a bed
Wi' ribbons and napkins tae tie up her head
Then oot spak' her faither and a wae man was he
I'll wad ye tae Dumfendrum he's mair gowd than he

O haud your tongue faither for that maunna be
Gin I get nae Glenlogie for him will I dee
Then her faither's ain chaplain a man o' great skill
He wrote a braid letter and indited it weel

A pox of ye Logie noo sin' it is so
A lady's love is on ye must she die in her woe?
A pox on ye Logie noo sin' it is time
A lady's love laid on ye, must she die in her prime?

When Glenlogie got the letter he being amang men
It's oot spak' Glenlogie what does young women mean?
When he looked on the letter a light lauch gied he
But e'er he read ower a tear blint his e'e.

Gae saddle me the blach horse and gae saddle me the broon
Bonnie Jeannie o' Bethelnie will be dead e'er I win
But the horses wisnae saddled nor led on the green
Till bonnie Glenlogie was three mile his lane

Pale and wan was she when Glenlogie cam in
But red and rosy grew she when she kent it was him
Whaur lies your pain lady does it lie in your head
Whaur lies your pain lady does in lie in Your side?

Oh, na, na Glenlogie you're far frae the pairt
The pain I lie under it lies in my heart
Turn roond Jeannie Gordon turn on your side
And I'll be the bridegroom and ye'll be the bride

Noo, Jeannie's gotten mairried and her tocher doon told
Bonnie Jean o' Bethelnie was scarce sixteen years auld
Bethelnie, Bethelnie ye shine whaur ye stand
And the heather bells aroon ye shine ower Fyvie's land

Child #238
@love @Scots
recorded by Dick Gaughan
filename[ GLENLOG
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE KELLSWATER

Here's a health to you, bonnie Kellswater
For its there you'll find the pleasures of life
And its there you'll find a fishing and farming
And a bonnie wee girl for your wife

On the hills and the glens and the valleys
Grows the softest of women so fine
And the flowers are all dripping with honey
There lives Martha, a true love of mine

Bonnie Martha, you're the first girl I courted
You're the one put my heart in a snare
And if ever I should lose you to another
I will leave my Kellswater so fair

For this one and that one may court her
But no other can take her from me
For I love her as I love my Kellswater
Like the primrose is loved by the bee

Here's a health to you, bonnie Kellswater
For its there you'll find the pleasures of life
And its there you'll find a fishing and farming
And a bonnie wee girl for your wife

@love
recorded by the Irish Rovers
filename[ KELLWATR
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE LASS AMONG THE HEATHER
  or QUEEN AMONG THE HEATHER

It was down in yonder lonely place
Where first I spied my roving fancy
She was gathering slaes on yonder braes
When first I spied my lovely Nancy

And oh but she was wondrous fair
Her features they were wondrous bonnie
She said her faither was frae hame
And she's gathering her faithers yowes together

Her goon it was so neatly trimmed
The color of it was broon and yellow
And in between the stripes were seen
Was the belles of the bonnie bloomin' heather

Would ye come wi' me my bonnie, bonnie lass
Would ye be my bride and leave the heather
In silk and satins ye may gang
If ye'd be my bride and leave the heather

Oh kind sir, your offer's fair
But I fear that it's meant in laughter
Some rich squire's son ye micht hae been
While I am but a poor shepherd's daughter

But had ye been a plooboy lad
Ploo'in in the morning early
If a plooboy lad ye micht hae been
Then wi' a' my heart, I wad lo'e thee

I've travelled East and I've travelled West
I've travelled ower moor and mountain
But the bonniest lass that e'er I spied
She was gatherin' her faither's yowes together

@courting  @animal @Scots
recorded by Dick Gaughin
filename[ LASHEATH
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE LASS O' BENACHIE

Once I loved a lady fair
She was a beauty I do declare
The fairest flower in the north country
The bonnie lass o' Benachie

She was an heir o' house and lan'
And I was but a poor man's son
It was her birth and high degree
That parted my true love and me

Great knights and squires from a distance came
To court this fair and lovely dame
But all their offers proved in vain
For none her favor could obtain

But when her parents came to know
That I did love their daughter so
They judasly betrayed me
For keeping o' her company

Twas at Auld Rayne that I was ta'en
A prisoner for Lady Jean
In fetters strong then I was bound
And carried on to Aberdeen

I was enbarked at the shore
Never to see my darling more
In Germany a soldier to be
All for the lass o' Benachie

When I arrived in foreign lands
A letter from my true love came
With her respects in each degree
Signed by the lass o' Benachie

The answer which to her I sent
Never to my true love went
For her cruel parents told her then
That in foreign lands I was slain

Which made this lady weep full sore
To think she'd never meet me more
It caused her weep most bitterly
Such tidings from high Germany

Her father said, "Your tear refrain
To weep for him it is in vain
I have a better match for thee
To enjoy the lands o' Benachie"

"He was the lover of my youth
In pledge he had my faith and troth
I've made a vow, I'll wed with none
Since my true love is dead and gone"

Oh, she's put on the robes o' green
Which was most comely to be seen
Oh had he been a crowned king
This lady fair might been his queen

Oh every finger she put a ring
On her mid finger she put three
And she is on to high Germany
In hopes her true lover to see

When she came to high Germany
By fortune her lover she did see
Upon a lofty rampart wall
As he was standing sentery

The first she met was the Colonel then
And he asked her most courteously
From whense she came and where she was boun'
Her name and from what countery

"From fair Scotland," she said, "I came
In hopes my lover true to see
And now I hear he's a grenadier
Into your lordship's company."

"Wha's thy lover's name, my comely dame
Oh lady fair come tell me than
For it's a pity that thy love should be
In the station of a single man"

"Willie Knight is my lover's name
All this hardship's suffered for me
Tho' it should cost me thousands ten
A single man nae mair he'll be"

Willie Knight was called then
His own true love once more to see
And when he saw her well fared face
The tears o' joy did blin' his e'e

Wi' kisses sweet the lovers met
Most joyfully as we are told
She changed his dress from the worsted lace
To the crimson scarlet trimmed with gold

But when her parents came to know
That their daughter abroad was gone
They sent a letter on express
To call these two fond lovers home

To Willie went a free discharge
All for the sake o' Lady Jean
And now they live in sweet content
Into the shire o' Aberdeen

refers to incident in 1770 involving heiress Miss Erskine
printed in Gavin Grieg
@Scots @courting
filename[ LASBENCH
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE LASS OF ANGLESEY

There he sits and there he stands
Alone and o what a frightened king is he
Fifteen lords have all come down
To dance and gain the victory

Our king he keeps a good treasure
And he keeps it locked with a silver key
And fifteen lords have all come down
To dance his gold and his lands away

There he stands at the castle high
And so loud, so loud, I heard him cry
Go saddle your horse and bring to me
The bonnie lass of Anglesey

Some rode North and some rode South
But some to the East they rode straightway
Spied her there on the mountain high
The bonnie lass of Anglesey

Up she starts as white as the milk
Between the king and all of his company
Crying what is the prize I have to ask
If I do gain the victory

Fifteen plows, a house and a mill
I will give to thee till the day thou dies
The fairest knight in all my court
To take your husband for to be

Fifteen plows, a house, and a mill
Come now, that's no prize for the victory
And there is no knight in all your court
That shall have me as a wife to be

Up she starts as white as the milk
She dances light as a leaf on the broken sea
Fifteen lords all cried out loud
For the bonnie lass of Anglesey

She's taken fifteen, one by one
Saying, sweet kind sir, will you dance with me
But e'er it's ten o'clock at night
They gave it o'er right shamefully

But up and rose the fifteenth knight
And o, what an angry man was he
He laid aside his buckler and sword
Before he strode so manfully

He's danced high and he's danced low
And he has danced the livelong day
He swore, My feet will be my death
Before she gains the victory

O my feet shall be my death
Before this lass shall gain the victory
But e'er it's ten o'clock of the morn
He gave it o'er right shamefully

She's taken the king all by the hand
Saying, Sweet kind sir, will you walk with me
But e'er the king had gone one step
She danced his gold and his lands away

Saying fifteen plows, a house, and a mill
Come now, that's no prize for the victory
And away she's gone with his treasure
The bonnie lass of Anglesey

She's taken all their bucklers and swords
She's taken their gold and their bright money
And back to the mountains she's away
The bonnie lass of Anglesey

There's fifteen lords come a swaggering down
To dance and gain the victory
There's fifteen lords and one high king
Go ragged and bare today

Child #220
recorded by Cindy Mangsen and Carthy on Crown of Horn
@magic @contest @ballad
filename[ ANGLELAS
play.exe ANGLELAS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE LASS OF FENARIO

D             Bm   F#m   G  D
As we marched down to Fenario (2x)
    G               D                       Bm
Our captain feel in love with a lady like a dove
        D            Bm         F#m    G     D
And the name she was called was pretty Peggy-o

Come go along with me, Pretty Peggy-o (2x)
In coaches you will ride with your true love by your side
Just as grand as any lady in the areo

What would your mother think, Pretty Peggy-o (2x)
What would your mother think for to hear the guineas clink
And the soldiers all a marching before you o

You're the man that I adore, Handsome Willi-o (2x)
You're the man that I adore, but your fortune is too low
I'm afraid my mother would be angry-o

Come a tripping down the stairs, Pretty Peggy-o (2x)
Come a tripping down the stair, tie up your yellow hair
Bid a last farewell to handsome Willy-o

If ever I return, Pretty Peggy-o (2x)
If ever I return, The city I will burn
And destroy all the ladies in the areo

Our captain, he is dead, Pretty Peggy-o
Our captain he is dead, he died for a maid
And he's buried in Louisiana county-o

@courting  @soldier
recorded by Joan Baez on her Ballad Book
  and by Judy Collins on Golden Apples
filename[ FENARLAS
play.exe FENARLAS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE LASS OF FYVIE, O

There once was a troop of Irish dragoons
Come marching down thru Fyvie, O
And the captain feel in love with a very bonnie lass
And the name she was called was pretty Peggy-o

There's many a bonnie lass in the glen of Auchterlass
There's many a bonnie lass in Gairioch-o
There's many a bonnie Jean in the streets of Aberdeen
But the flower of them all lives in Fyvie, O

O come down the stairs, Pretty Peggy, my dear
Come down the stairs, Pretty Peggy-o
Come down the stairs, comb back your yellow hair
Bid a long farewell to your mammy-o

It's braw, aye it's braw, a captain's lady for to be
And it's braw to be a captain's lady-o
It's braw to ride around and to follow the camp
And to ride when your captain he is ready-o

O I'll give you ribbons, love, and I'll give you rings
I'll give you a necklace of amber-o
I'll give you a silken petticoat with flounces to the knee
If you'll convey me doon to your chamber-o

What would your mother think if she heard the guineas clink
And saw the haut-boys marching all before you o
O little would she think gin she heard the guineas clink
If I followed a soldier laddie-o

I never did intend a soldier's lady for to be
A soldier shall never enjoy me-o
I never did intend to gae tae a foreign land
And I will never marry a soldier-o

I'll drink nae more o your claret wine
I'll drink nae more o your glasses-o
Tomorrow is the day when we maun ride away
So farewell tae your Fyvie lasses-o

The colonel he cried, mount, boys, mount,boys, mount
The captain, he cried, tarry-o
O tarry yet a while, just another day or twa
Til I see if the bonnie lass will marry-o

Twas in the early morning, when we marched awa
And O but the captain he was sorry-o
The drums they did beat a merry brasselgeicht
And the band played the bonnie lass of Fyvie, O

Long ere we came to the glen of Auchterlass
We had our captain to carry-o
And long ere we won into the streets of Aberdeen
We had our captain to bury-o

Green grow the birks on bonnie Ethanside
And low lie the lowlands of Fyvie, O
The captain's name was Ned and he died for a maid
He died for the bonny lass of Fyvie, O

@Scots @courting  @soldier
recorded by Redpath and the Clancy Brothers
see also FENARLAS
filename[ FYVIOLAS
play.exe FYVIOLAS
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE SAINT JOHN

     Faer hae ye been, my bonny Saint John,
       Ye've bidden sae lang, ye've bidden sae lang?
     Faer hae ye been, my bonny Saint John,
       Ye've bidden sae lang, ye've bidden sae lang?

     Up in yon hill, and down in yon glen,
       And I cou'dna win hame, and I cou'dna win hame;
     Now fat will ye gie me unto my supper,
       Now fan I come hame, now fan I come hame?

     A clean dish for you, and a clean spoon,
       For byding sae lang, for byding sae lang;
     A clean dish for you, and a clean spoon,
       For byding sae lang, for byding sae lang.
     ________________________________________________________

     Peter Buchan, Anc. Ballads & Songs (1828; repr. 1875,
     264); with altered spelling in Montgomerie SC (1948),
     182 (no. 344).

     This is a bowdlerised descendant of "The Shepherd and
his Wife", in Herd 1776 I.182 (Hecht, Herd MSS. 163 ff.), a
dialogue between the two:

     The shepherd's wife cries o'er the lee,
     "Come hame will ye, come hame will ye?"
     The shepherd's wife cries o'er the lee,
     "Come hame will ye again e'en, jo?"

     "What will ye gie me to my supper,
     Gin I come hame, gin I come hame?
     What will ye gie me to my supper,
     Gin I come hame again e'en, jo?"

     [similarly:]

     "Ye's get a panfu' of plumpin parrage,
     And butter in them . . . ."

     "Ha, ha, how! It's naething that dow;
     I winna come hame, and I canna come hame! . . ."

     [repeat st. 1, 2]

     "Ye's get a cock well totled i' the pat,
     An ye'll come hame, &c."

     [repeat st. 4, 1, 2]

     "Ye's get a hen well boiled i' the pan,
     An ye'll come hame, &c."

     [repeat 4, 1, 2]

     "A well made bed, and a pair of clean sheets,
     An ye'll come hame, &c."

     [repeat 4, 1, 2]

     "A pair of white legs and a good cogg-wame,
     An ye'll come hame, &c."

     "Ha, ha, how! that's something that dow,
     I will come hame, I will come hame!
     Ha, ha, how! that's something that dow,
     I'll haste me hame again e'en, jo!"

     Burns altered this for SMM (IV, no. 362).  With the
"good cogg-wame" of 19.1 cf. the coggie (= "womb") in Burns'
version of "The Ploughman"; but here perhaps it means "bowl-
shaped belly".  Note that all the items offered by the wife
have sexual connotations: cock and hen are self-explanatory,
while porridge and butter occur as aphrodisiacs in several
sources.  (See note to "A' the Nicht".)  The Opies (Singing
Game, 1985, 270) contrast this with "Lazy Mary", which does
not seem to have a Scottish version; it is probably of U.S.
extraction.

@questions @family @Scots
filename[ BONSTJON
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE SUSIE CLELAND

There lived a lady in Scotland
  Hey my love, ho my joy
There lived a lady in Scotland
  So dearly she loved me
There lived a lady in Scotland
She fell in love with an Englishman
  Bonnie Susie Cleland, she's to be burned in Dundee

The father to his daughter came
Will you forsake this Englishman?

If you will not this Englishman forsake
Then I will burn you at the stake

Where may I find a pretty little boy
To carry tokens to my joy

Bring to him this right hand glove
Tell him to find another love

Bring to him this wee pen knife
Tell him to find another wife

Bring to him this gay gold ring
Tell him I'm going to my burning

The father he put up the stake
The brothers the fire did make
  Bonnie Susie Cleland, she was burned at Dundee

_________
From the singing of Lisa Null, can be heard on her record "The
Feathered Maiden".
Child #65
@Scots @love @death
filename[ SCLELAND
play.exe SCLELAND
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE TAMMY

     Whaur has du been a' the day,
     Bonnie Tammy, bonnie Tammy?
     Whaur has du been a' the day,
     Bonnie Tammy Skolla?

     At the back o' Staney Hool,
     Bonnie Minnie, bonnie Minnie.
     At the back o' Staney Hool
     Courtin' Betty Baulie.
     ________________________________________________________

     Saxby Shetland Trad. Lore (1932), 70, summarising the
     rest: "The grandmother (Minnie) begins a list of
     questions, such as, `What's du goin' to feed her on?'
     and Tammy replies, `White bread and mill-gruel.'  After
     a searching enquiry Granny asks: `Whaurs du goin' to set
     her doon?'  Tammy's impudent reply, `Inta Minnie's
     airmshair,' must have been very disconcerting for
     Minnie."
The tune is an adaptation of Highland Laddie.
Cf. ODNR 75 (no. 44), "Where have you been today, Billy, my
son?"; FSJ pt. 19, 117-8; the "serious" ballad of which this
is a reflex is "Lord Randal"; cf. "Bonnie Wee Croodlin Doo."

@kids @Scots
filename[ BONTAMMY
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE WEE CROODLIN DOO

     1.
     Whare hae ye been a' the day,
       My little wee croodlin doo?
     Oh, I've been at my grandmother's;
       Mak' my bed, mammie, noo!

     What gat ye at your grandmother's,
       My little wee croodlin doo?
     I got a bonnie wee fishie;
       Mak' my bed, mammie, noo!

     Oh, whare did she catch the fishie,
       My bonnie wee croodlin doo?
     She catched it in the gutter hole;
       Mak' my bed, mammie, noo!

     And what did you do wi' the banes o't,
       My bonnie wee croodlin doo?
     I gied them to my little dog;
       Mak' my bed, mammie, noo!

     And what did the little doggie do,
       My bonnie wee croodlin doo?
     He shot out his head and feet, and dee'd,
       As I do, mammie, noo!

     2.
     Where hae ye been a' the day,
     My bonny wee croodin doo?
     O I hae been at my stepmother's house;
     Make my bed, mammie, now!
     Make my bed, mammie, now!

     Where did you get your dinner,
     My bonny wee croodin doo?
     I got it in my stepmother's;
     Make my bed, mammie, now, now, now!
     Make my bed, mammie, now!

     What did she gie ye to your dinner,
     My bonny wee croodin doo?
     She ga'e me a little four-footed fish;
     Make my bed, mammie, now, now, now!
     Make my bed, mammie, now!

     Where got she the four-footed fish,
     My bonny wee croodin doo?
     She got in down in yon well strand;
     Make my bed, mammie, now, now, now!
     Make my bed, mammie, now!

     What did she do wi' the banes o't,
     My bonny wee croodin doo?
     She ga'e them to the little dog;
     Make my bed, mammie, now, now, now!
     Make my bed, mammie, now!

     O what became o' the little dog,
     My bonny wee croodin doo?
     O it shot out its feet and died!
     O make my bed, mammie, now, now, now!
     O make my bed, mammie, now!
     ________________________________________________________

     (1) Chambers PRS (1826) [per Saturday Review, 30 July
     1870].
     (2) PRS (1870), 52, with music (1847, 205, sans music,
     "The Crowden Doo"); "Mrs. Lockhart's copy, as she used
     to sing it to her father at Abbotsford." Slightly more
     Scots ("wee" for "little" etc.) in Montgomerie SNR 140
     (no. 175), with music. Another version ("Willie Doo"),
     with music in Moffat 50 TSNR (1933), 5.  I doubt the
     provenance of this.
     See Child (#12), and Bronson Trad. Tunes of the Child
     Ballads I (1959), 224 ff.  The parody (treated in
     Child's Appendix) has its own ramifications; see "Bonnie
     Tammy".  ODNR 75 (no. 44).

Child #12
filename[ EELHENR2
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE WEE LASSIE THAT NEVER SAID NO

I come tae a cross and I met a wee lass
Said I, "Ma wee lass, are ye willin' tae go
Tak' share o' a gill?"  She cried, "Sir I will
For i'm the wee lassie who never said no"

So intae an alehoose we merrily did go
And we never did rise till the cock it did crow
And it's glass after glass we merrily did toss
Tae the bonnie wee lassie who never said no

Thge landlady opened the door and come in
She opened the door and came in with a smile
And she's lifted a chair wi' freedom and air
"Here's a health tae the lass that can jigget in style"

Well, the drink they took in, being the best o' the gin
Me bein' myself and sober tae view
And it's glass after glass they merrily did toss
Till the lass and the landlady filled theirsel's fu'

"Look intae yon pocket," the lassie she said
"You are two and six for tae pay for your bed
And for laying me doon you owe me a crown
Look intae your pocket," the lassie she said

Put my hand in her pocket and five pound I took
Thinks I tae myself, "I will bundle and go"
And I bade her goodbye, but she made no reply
This bonnie wee lassie who never said no

@Scots @drink
sung by Jeannie Robertson
recorded by Ray Fisher
filename[ NEVSAYNO
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE WEE MARY

Bonnie wee Mary, pretty wee Mary,
Bonnie wee Mary Shaw,
O what will come tae a the toon,
When Mary gaes awa?

O some will greet, and some will lauch,
And some say nocht ava;
And some will break their very hearts,
When Mary gaes awa.
________________________________________________________

Montgomerie SC (1948), 111 (No. 177), from Berwick. A
version of the next item.  Ritchie Golden City (1965), 17,
from Edinburgh, has "Jeanie"; with other vars.: 1.2 Nice 1.3
What will a' the laddies dae 2.1 meet...greet 2.2 some will
run awa'; 2.3 That's what a' the laddies'll dae.  This is
"often sung when some playmate is flitting out of the
district."

@Scots @kids
filename[ WEEMARY
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE WULLIE

     Bonnie Wullie! Pretty Wullie!
     Lang Wullie Gaw!
     What'll a the lasses dae
     When Wullie gaes awa?

     Some'll lauch, and some'll greet,
     And some no care ava,
     And some'll kilt their petticoats,
     And follow Wullie Gaw.
     ________________________________________________________

     Montgomerie SC (1948), 111 (no. 176), from Galloway.  A
version of the previous item, but which is the elder is
dubious.  The editor collected a version in Rutherglen, 1960,
with its tune: "Bonny Willie, pretty Willie, Bonnie Willie
Shaw," etc.

@kids @Scots
filename[ BONWULLI
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNIE, BONNIE BANKS OF THE VIRGIO (Cruel Brother)

Three young ladies went for a walk
  Too ra lee and a lon ee o
They met a robber on their way
  By the bonnie, bonnie banks of the Virgio

He took the first one by the hand
He whipped her around and he made her stand

Oh, will you be a robber's wife
Or will you die by my pen knife

I will not be a robber's wife
I'd rather die by your pen knife

He took the second one by the hand
He whipped her around and he made her stand
Oh, will you be a robber's wife
Or will you die by my pen knife

I will not be a robber's wife
I'd rather die by your pen knife

He took the third one by the hand
He whipped her around and he made her stand

Oh, will you be a robber's wife
Or will you die by my pen knife

I will not be a robber's wife
Nor will I die by your pen knife

If my brothers had been here
You would not have killed my sisters dear

Who are your brothers, I pray thee tell
One is a robber like yourself
And who is the other, I pray thee tell
The other is a minister

Lord have mercy for what I have done
I've killed my sisters, all but one

Child #14
sung by Howie Mitchell and Lisa Null
@ballad @family @death @murder @water
filename[ VIRGIBNK
play.exe VIRGIBNK
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNY BLUE FLAG
(Harry McCarthy)

We are a band of brothers, native to the soil
Fighting for the property we gained by honest toil.
And when our rights were threatened, the cry rose near and far
"Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star!"

cho: Hurrah! Hurrah! For Southern rights, Hurrah!
     Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star!"

As long as the Union was faithful to her trust,
Like friends and brethren, kind were we, and just;
But now, when Northern treachery attempts our rights to mar,
We hoist on high the Bonnie Blue flag that bears a single star.

First gallant South Carolina nobly made the stand,
Then came Alabama and took her by the hand;
Next, quickly, Mississippi, Georgia, and Florida,
All raised on high the Bonnie Blue flag that bears a single star.

Ye men of valor gather round the banner of the right,
Texas and fair Louisiana join us in the fight;
Davis, our loved President, and Stephens statesmen are;
Now rally round the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a single star.

And here's to brave Virginia, the Old Dominion State.
With the young Confederacy at length has linked her fate.
Impelled by her example, now other States prepare
To hoist on high the Bonnie Blue flag that bears a single star.

Then here's to our Confederacy, strong we are and brave,
Like patriots of old we'll fight, our heritage to save.
And rather than submit to shame, to die we would prefer
So cheer for the Bonnie Blue flag that bears a single star.

Then cheer, boys, cheer, raise a joyous shout
For Arkansas and North Carolina now have both gone out;
And let another rousing cheer for Tennessee be given
The single star of the Bonnie Blue Flag has grown to be eleven!

Tune: The Irish Jaunting Car
@America  @Civil @war @Confederate
filename[ BONBLUE
play.exe BONBLUE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNY BOY

I once had a boy and a bonny, bonny boy
And thought to make him my own;
But he loves another much better than me
And has taken his flight and is gone (2x)

Since he is gone now let him go
No longer for him will I mourn
If he loves another much better than me
Then I hope he will never return (2x)

I walked up the forest and down the green fields
Like one distracted in mind
I halloed and I whooped and l played upon my flute
But no bonny boy could I find. (2x)

I looked in the East, I looked in the West
The weather being hot and calm;
And there I did spy my bonny bonny boy
With another love close in his arms. (2x)

But I hasted by and never cast an eye
Though he thought I had been in love bound
I loved him so well, no notice l took
But was glad when him I had found. (2x)

He took me upon his dissembling knee
And looked me upright in my face,
He gave to me a dissembling kiss
But his heart was in another place. (2x)

Now you have got my bonny bonny boy
Be kind to my boy if you can
For though he's none of mine he's a pleasure in my mind
And I'll walk with that boy now and then. (2x)

From Seeds of Love, Sedley
@love @parting
filename[ BONNBOY
play.exe BONNBOY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNY BUNCH OF ROSES-O

By the borders of the ocean
One morning in the month of June,
To view those war-like songsters
Hear their merry notes and sweet-lie tunes
I overheard a female talking
She seemed to be in grief and woe
Conversing with young Bonaparte
Concerning the bonny bunch of roses-o.

When next I saw Napoleon,
Down on his bended knees was he,
Asking the pardon of his mother,
Who granted it most mournfully.
He says, "I'll take an army
And through tremenjous dangers I will go.
In spite of all the universe
I'll conquer the bonny bunch of roses-o."

"No, Son, don't talk so venturesome,
For England has the hearts of oak.
There's England, Ireland, and Scotland -
Their unity has ne'er been broke.
O Son, think on your father's fate,
On the Isle of St. Helene his body lies low,
And you will soon follow after.
Beware of the bonny bunch of roses-o."

Then he took one hundred thousand men,
And kings likewise to bear his train.
He was so well provided for
He thought to sweep this earth alone.
But when he arrived in Moscow,
He was overpowered by the driven snow.
When Moscow was a-blazing, there
He lost his bonny bunch of roses-o.

"O Mother, now believe me,
For I am on my dying bed.
If I had lived I would have been clever,
But now I droop my weary head.
And when my body lies mouldering,
And weeping willows o'er me grow,
The deeds of great Napoleon
Will sting the bonny bunch of roses-o"

From Traditional American Songs, Warner and Warner
Collected from John Galusha, 1941
Note: Napoleon of this song is the Emperor's son by his second
     marriage. The Bonny Bunch of Roses is England, Ireland and
     Scotland RG
@war
filename[ BONBUNCH
play.exe BONBUNCH
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNY EARL OF MURRAY (2)

"Open the gates, and let him come in;
He is my brother Huntly, he'll do him nae harm."

The gates they were opent, they let him come in,
But fause traitor Huntly, he did him great harm.

He's ben and ben, and ben to his bed,
And with a sharp rapier he stabbed him dead.

The lady came down the stair, wringing her hands:
"He has slain the Earl o' Murray, the flower o' Scotland."

But Huntly lap on his horse, rade to the king:
"Ye're welcome hame, Huntly, and whare hae ye been?

"Whare hae ye been? and how hae ye sped!"
"I've killed the Earl o' Murray, dead in his bed."

"Foul fa you, Huntly! and why did ye so!
You might have taen the Earl o' Murray, and saved his life too."

"Her bread it's to bake, her yill is to brew;
My sister's a widow, and sair do I rue."

"Her corn grows ripe, her meadows grow green,
But in bonny Dinnibristle I darena be seen."

Note: In light of the long-standing arguments about what is a ballad,
     and when are two songs simply versions of the same ballad, this
     one presents a problem. Clearly the same set of events as the more
     popular Earl of Murray; clearly a different song. We're calling it
     Child #181. Authorities are invited to differ. RG

Child #181
From Scottish & Border Battles & Ballads, Brander; collected from
     Finlay's Scottish Ballads (1808)
@Scots @murder
filename[ EARLMUR2
play.exe EARLMURY.2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNY ELOISE
(C.W. Elliot and J. R. Thomas)

O, sweet is the vale where the Mohawk gently glides
On its clear winding way to the sea,
And dearer than all storied streams on earth beside
Is this bright rolling river to me;

cho: But sweeter, dearer, yes, dearer far than these,
     Who charms where others all fail,
     Is my blue-eyed, Bonny, Bonny Eloise,
     The Belle of the Mohawk Vale.

O, sweet are the moments when dreaming I roam,
Thro' my loved haunts now mossy and grey,
And dearer than all is my childhood's hallow'd home
That is crumb'ling now slowly away;

Note: In a martial tempo, this has become a fife-and-drum corps
     standard, since (I think) Revolutionary War times. RG
@river @love
filename[ BONELOIS
play.exe BONELOIS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNY FARDAY

1.  Three fine ladies lived in a bowry,
    Jewry flower and rosemary
    Three fine ladies lived in a bowry:
    They went forth in a field that was flowery:
    Jewry flower and rosemary.

(similarly:)
2.  They pull-ed flowers by two, by three
    A man come bent on robbery

3.  He asked one sister would she wife
    Or would she die by his wee knife

4.  She would not be a robber's wife
    He robb-ed her of her own sweet life

5.  He laid her by so tenderly
    To keep the flowers company

6.  He took the second by the hand
    He made her lightly step and stand

7.  He asked this sister would she wife
    Or would she die by his wee knife

8.  She would not wife, she would not bide
    So at that robber's hand she died

9.  He took the wee one by the hand
    She would not step, she would not stand

10. Says, "I'll not marry such as you
    Who killed my sisters one and two

11. Among my kin, my brother strong
    Will kill you for this very wrong."

12. "What name, what name, what name, I say?"
    "My brother's name is Bonny Farday!"

13. "O sister dear, what can I do
    But kill myself in rue of you.

14. Go dig my grave long, wide and deep
    And put my sisters at my feet."

CHILD #14
from John Jacob Niles, "Folk Balladeer", RCA Victor Vintage.
coll. in Newfoundland by Peacock (on his "Songs and Ballads of
     Newfoundland", Folkways), Karpeles and Greenleaf
     (Sandy Cove, 1929: claimed as the first North American
     sighting of the song).
@murder @death @family
filename[ BONFARDY
JB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNY GLEN SHEE
  or BUSK BUSK BONNIE LASSIE

Oh, do you see yon shepherds,
As they walk along
With their plaidies pulled aboot them
And their sheep they graze on

  Busk, busk, bonnie lassie
  And come along wi' me
  And I'll take ye tae Glen Isla
  Near Bonnie Glen Shee

Oh do you see yon soldiers
As they all march along
Wi' their guns on their shoulders
And their broadswords hanging down

Oh do you see yon high hills
All covered with snow
They hae parted many a true love
And they'll soon part us twa

from the singing of Belle Stewart
recorded by her on Queen Among the Heather
@Scots @love
filename[ GLENSHE
play.exe GLENSHEE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNY HIND

It's May she comes and May she goes down by the garden green
It's there she spied a good young squire as good as e'er be seen

It's May she comes and May she goes down by the Holland green
And it's there she spied a brisk young squire as brisk as e'er be seen

"Come give to me your green mantle, give to me your maidenhead
if you won't give me your green mantle, give me your maidenhead"

He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand and gently laid her down
And it's when he raised her up again giving her a silver comb

"Perhaps there may be bends or perhaps there may be none
But if you be a courtier pray tell to me your name"

"Oh I am no courtier" he said "but new come from the sea
Oh I am no courtier" he said "but when I courted thee

They call me Jack when I'm abroad, sometimes they call me John
But when I'm in my father's bower, oh, Jock Randal is my name"

"You lie, you lie, you bonny lad, so loud I hear you lie
For I am Lord Randal's only daughter, he has no more than me"

"You lie, you lie, you bonny lass, so loud I hear you lie
For I am Lord Randal's very own son that new come from the sea"

She's puttin' down by her side and out she's taken a knife
And she's put in in her own heart's blood and taken away her life

And he's taken his only sister with a big tear in his eye
And he's buried his only sister beneath the Holland tree

It's soon he's hied him o'er the dales his father due to see
"It's oh and woe for my bonny hind beneath the Holland tree"

"What care you for a bonny hind, for it you need not care
There's eight score hinds in yon green park and five score is to spare"

"Oh score at them a silver shot and these you may get three
But oh and woe for my bonny hind beneath the Holland tree"

"What care you for your bonny hind, for it you need not care
Take you the best and leave me the worst since plenty is to spare"

"I care not for your hinds, kind sir, I care not for your fee
But it's oh and woe for my bonny hind beneath the Holland tree"

"Oh were you up your sister's bower, your sister fair to see
Oh you'll think no more on your bonny hind beneath the Holland tree"

------------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by June Tabor on "Abyssynians" (1983) and by Tony Rose
Holland may be a corruption of holly.
Child #50
@incest @ballad @father @hunt @animal @suicide @death
filename[ BONNYHND
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNY LESLIE

Oh saw you bonnie Leslie,
As she gain out o'er the border
She's gone like Alexander
To spread her conquests further

Oh to see her is to love her
And to love, but her forever
For nature made her what she is
And ne'er made such another

The Devil, he could never scathe thee
Nor aught, that would belong thee
He'd look into thy bonny face
And say I can not wrong thee

The powers above will tend thee
So misfortune shall not steer thee
Thou like themselves, so lovely
That ill, they'll ne'er let near thee

Return again, oh bonny Leslie
Return again to Caledonia
That we may brag we have a lass
There none been e'er so bonny

Oh so you, bonnie Leslie,
As she gain out o'er the border
She's gone like Alexander
To spread her conquests further

-----------------------------------------------------------------
Recorded on "Borderlands"
@Scots
filename[ BONNYLES
play.exe BONLSLEY
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNY LIGHT HORSEMAN

Ye wise maids and widows,  pray listen to me.
To this sad tale I rehearse unto thee
A maid in distress who will now be a rover
She relies on King George for the loss of her lover

cho: Broken-hearted I'll wander, broken-hearted I'll remain
     For my bonny light horseman, in the wars he was slain.

Three years and six months since he left England's shore,
My bonny light horseman, will I ne'er see him more?
He's mounted on horseback,  so gallant and gay
And among the whole regiment respected was he.

When Boney commanded his armies to stand,
He leveled his cannon right over the land,
He levelled his cannons his victory to gain
And he slew my light horseman on the way coming hame.
The dove she laments for her mate as she flies;
"Oh where, tell me where is my darling? " she cries
And where in this world is there one to compare
With my bonny light horseman who was slain in the war ?"

Recorded by Planxty on After the Break
@war @soldier @death @parting
filename[ BONLGHT
play.exe BONLGHT
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNY SHIP THE DIAMOND

The Diamond is a ship, my lads, for the Davis Strait she's bound,
And the quay it is all garnished with bonny lasses 'round;
Captain Thompson gives the order to sail the ocean wide,
Where the sun it never sets, my lads, no darkness dims the sky,

cho: So it's cheer up my lads, let your hearts never fail,
     While the bonny ship, the Diamond, goes a-fishing for the whale.

Along the quay at Peterhead, the lasses stand aroon,
Wi' their shawls all pulled around them and the saut tears runnin' doon;
Don't you weep, my bonny lass, though you be left behind,
For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice before we change our mind.

cho:

Here's a health to the Resolution, likewise the Eliza Swan,
Here's a health to the Battler of Montrose and the Diamond, ship of fame;
We wear the trouser o' the white and the jackets o' the blue,
When we return to Peterhead, we'll hae sweethearts anoo,

cho:

It'll be bricht both day and nicht when the Greenland lads come hame,
Wi' a ship that's fu' of oil, my lads, and money to our name;
We'll make the cradles for to rock and the blankets for to tear,
And every lass in Peterhead sing "Hushabye, my dear"

cho:

NOTE:  An alternate chorus, commemorating a somewhat different example of
being all at sea, is:

     So it's cheer up, my lads, let us sing like the birds!
     While bonny David Diamond goes a-fishing for the words. RG

filename[ BDIAMOND
play.exe BDIAMOND
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNY WEE THING
(Robert Burns)

Bonie wee thing, cannie wee thing,
   Lovely wee thing, wert thou mine,
I wad wear thee in my bosom
   Lest my jewel it should tine.

Wishfully I look and languish
    In that bonie face o thine,
And my heart it stounds wi anguish,
   Lest my wee thing be na mine.

Wit and Grace and Love and Beauty
    In ae constellation shine;
To adore thee is my duty
    Goddess o this soul o mine.

     Tune: Bonnie Wee Thing (357)
@Scots @Burns @love
filename[ BONNYWEE
play.exe BONNYWEE
ARB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BONNY YOUNG IRISH BOY

O first I came a-courted by a bonny young Irish b'y,
He called me all of his jewels, his sweetheart, pride and j'y;
'Twas in fair Dubelin city, a place so old and fair,
Where first I came a-courted by a bonny young Irish b'y.

His cheeks was of the roses and his hair was of the brown
And hung in ringlets heavy to his shoulders hanging down
His teeth was of an ivory white, his eyes was black as sloes;
He'd charm the heart of any fair girl, no matter where he goes.

Long time I keeped him company and hoped to be his bride
But now he is gone and leaved me, across the ocean wide.
Sure I'm afraid some other fair maid, my true love will enj'y
While I'm left here lamenting my bonny young Irish b'y.

So I'll pack all my clothing and in search of him I'll go,
I'll cross the wide, wide ocean through stormy winds and snow
And never shall I marry until the day I die,
So I'll die broken-hearted for my bonny young Irish b'y.

O comrades, I am dying! There's one more word I'll say
Take my bones to Ireland and bury them in the clay,
And write upon my tombstone to children passing by,
That I died broken-hearted for my bonny young Irish b'y.

From Ballads and Sea Songs of Newfoundland. Greenleaf
Collected from Clifford Toms, 1929
@love @parting @Irish
filename[ YNGIRISH
play.exe YNGIRISH
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONNY YTHANSIDE

As I cam' in by Ythanside
Where gently flows the rolling tide
A fair pretty maid passed by my side
And her looks did me ensnare.

She's ta'en me tae her faither's hame
Sae bashfully as I gaed ben,
Say's he "Young man ye're far fae hame
On bonnie Ythanside."

Weel it's I sat doon her folks tae please,
They treated me tae breid an'cheese,
An' the bairnies a'gaithered roon my knees;
It was a blithesome sicht.

But nine o'clock began tae strike
An'the ploomen lads began tae spit,
Says I tae masel' it's time tae flit
Fae bonnie Ythanside.

It's masel' arose up tae my feet
I bade them a' a braw goodnicht,
An' speirt the road tae Mains o' Gicht
An' the fair maid tae convoy.

She's shown me past the barn door,
And oh but my poor heart was sore,
Tae pairt wi' her an' meet nae more
On bonnie Ythanside.

But in the spring I cam' back again
An' on her finger placed a ring,
An' hame wi' me then she did come,
Fae bonnie Ythanside.

From The Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall
@Scots @courting
filename[ BONYTHAN
play.exe BONYTHAN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BONY ON THE ISLE OF ST. HELENA

Oh, Bony he has gone from his wars all a-fightin'
He has gone to the place where he takes no delight in.
And there he may sit down and tell the scenes that he's seen of
When full long doth he mourn on the Isle of St. Helena.

Oh, Louisy she weeps for her husband's departin'
She dreams when she sleeps and she wakes broken-hearted.
Not a friend to console her, even those who might be with her
For she mourns when she thinks on the Isle of St. Helena.

Oh the rude rushing waves all around the shores a-washin'
And the great billows heaves on the wild rocks are dashin'.
He may look to the moon o'er the great Mount Diana
With his eyes o'er the waves roll around St. Helena.

No more in St. Cloud he'll be seen in such splendor
Or go on with his wars like the great Alexander,
For the young king of Rome and the prince of Gehenna
They have caused him to die on the Isle of St. Helena.

O you Parliaments of England and you Holy Alliance
To a prisoner of war you may now bid defiance.
For his base intrudin' and his base misdemeanors
Have caused him to die on the Isle of St. Helena.

Come all you's got wealth, pray beware of ambition
For it's a degree of fate that may change your condition.
[Be's it best in time]* for what's to come you know not
For fear you may be changed like he on the Isle of St. Helena.

Collected by Frank and Anne Warner from C.K. (Tink) Tillett, 1940
* According to Jeff Warner, this phrase was (originally) [Be
steadfast in time]

Recorded by Mary Black on General Humbert II
@history @Napoleon
filename[ BNYSTHEL
play.exe BNYSTHEL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
                            BOOM BOOM


Boom boom
Baby goes
Boom boom
Baby goes
Boom boom
Down

You might cry
Everybody
Boom booms
Everybody
Boom booms
Down

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Twelve part spoken round
@round
filename[ BOOMBOOM
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOOMER JOHNSON

Oh, Mister Boomer Johnson was agettin' old in spots
But you don't expect a bad man to go 'rasslin' pans and pots.
He'd done his share of killin', but his draw was gettin' slow
So he quits apunchin' cattle and he takes to punchin' dough.

Our foreman up an hires him thinkin' age had rode him tame
But a snake don't get no sweeter by the changin' of his name.
Boomer knew his business, he could cook to make you smile
But say, he wrangled fodder in a most peculiar style.

He didn't use no matches, left 'em layin' on the shelf
Just some kerosene and cussin', and the kindlin' lit itself
Pardner, I will tell you, it would give a man a jolt
Just to see him stir frijoles with the barrel of his Colt.

He built his doughnuts solid, and it sure would curl your hair
Just to see him plug the holes when he tossed them in the air,
He drilled the holes plumb center every time his pistol spoke,
'Til the can was full of doughnuts and the shack was full of smoke.

We was all a-gettin'jumpy but he couldn't understand
How his shootin'made us nervous when his shootin' was so grand.
He kept right on performin'and it weren't no surprise
When he took to markin' tombstones on the covers of his pies.

They didn't look no better nor they didn't taste no worse
But settin' at the table was Iike ridin' in a hearse.
We didn't do no talkin' and we took just what we got
We et 'til we was foundered just to keep from gettin' shot.

It was early one bright mornin', I was feelin' kinda low
When Boomer passed the doughnuts, I answered, "Plenty, no
Coffee's all this trip I'm takin','cause my stomach is a wreck."
You could see the lust for killin' swell the wattles of his neck.

Scorn his grub! He strung some doughnuts on the barrel of his gun
He shoved it in my gizzard and he says, "You're takin' some."
He was set to start a graveyard but for once he was mistook
Me not wantin' any doughnuts, well I up and salts the cook.

Did they fire him? Listen, pardner, there was nothin' left to fire
Just a row of smilin' faces and another cook to hire,
If he found another outfit and is cookin', what I mean,
It's where they don't need matches and they don't use kerosene.

From Harmonious Companions, Myers
Transcribed from singing of Margaret McArthur

@cowboy @food @cook
filename[ BOOMERJ
play.exe BOOMERJ
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOOZING

Now what are the joys of a single young man?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!
And what is he doing whenever he can?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!
You may think I'm wrong and you may think I'm right,
I'm not going to argue, I know you can fight,
But what do you think we are doing tonight?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!

cho: Boozing, boozing, just you and I
     Boozing, boozing, when we are dry.
     Some do it openly, some on the sly
     But we all are bloody well boozing.

And what are the joys of a poor married man?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!
What is he doing whenever he can?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!
He comes home at night and he gives his wife all
He goes out a-shopping, makes many a call
But what brings him home hanging on to a wall?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!

And what does the Salvation Army run down?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!
And what are they banning in every town?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!
The stand on street corners, they rave and they shout,
They shout about things they know nothing about.
But what are they doing when the lights are turned out?
     Boozing, bloody well boozing!

Recorded Roberts & Barrand, I think
@drink
filename[ BOOZNG
play.exe BOOZNG
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORDER WIDOW'S LAMENT
  a fragment of FAMOUS FLOWER OF SERVINGMEN

My love he built me a bonnie bower
And clad it all with lily flower
A brawer bower ye ne'er did see
Than my true love he built for me

There came a man by middle day
He spied his sport and went away
And brought the King that very night
Who broke my bower and slew my knight

He slew my knight to me sae dear
He slew my knight and poin'ed his gear
My servants all for life did flee
And left me in extremity

I sewed his sheet, making my moan
I watched the corpse, myself alone
I watched his body, night and day
No living creature came that way

I took his body on my back
And whiles I gaed and whiles I sat
I digged a grave and laid him in
And happ'd him with the sod sae green

But think not ye my heart was sair
When I laid the mold on his yellow hair
Oh think not ye my heart was woe
When I turned about, away to go

No living man I'll love again
Since that my lovely knight is slain
With a lock of his yellow hair
I'll chain my heart for evermore

____________
@love @murder @ballad
fragment of a longer ballad where she dresses as a man, becomes a
servant to the king and eventually marries the king.
from Smith's Scottish Minstrelsy 1820
sung by Lisa Null on Feathered Maiden
Tune from The Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall
Child #106
filename[ FLRSERV1
play.exe FLRSERV1
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORDERLANDS
(Chris Caswell and Danny Carnahan)

The young man sat above the town in the glow of a setting sun
With his head held cradled in his hands, his back against a stone
Saying "Why have I so little time in this wretched place to stand?"
When I can't take the girl I love back home to the borderland"

For I watch her dance upon the hill, and I live but for her song
That she never dreamed I waited here, so silent and so long
But her golden hair does strike me dumb, and her brown eyes
     strike me blind.
And the thought I'll ne'er see her again is torture in my mind.

The maid walked down the hill near by, toward home in the end of day
And she caught the sound of the young man's words, and she
     stopped upon her way
And no voice had she ever heard so sweet, as the voice of the stranger lad
And she stood there as if turned to stone, and listened from the shadow.

The young man's words reached out to her, where she stood upon the lea,
And they built her ships upon the clouds and castles on the sea
And as he spoke, her eyes did flash and burn as with a flame,
And the maid stepped out around the stone, as if he called her name.

"Pray lament no more," she said, her voice like the gentle sea.
"For I have heard your every word, and I know they're meant for me.
And if you speak in truth my lad, and you love me as you say,
There can be no reason we must part, not even for a day."

The young man started at her words, and he stood up straight and tall
Said "I never meant for you to hear me speak this way at all.
For you can never have me, love, it's useless to deceive,
For I must return to the borderland, oh I am bound to leave you."

"I care not where you're bound my lad, I care not where you're from.
For the one thing that I'm certain tis this maiden's heart you've won.
So take me with you where you must, I freely go your way.
And I will lie here in your arms to greet the light of day."

Tenderly he laid her down, and next to her did lie.
The wind that whispered through the trees was sweet as a lullaby.
And bending down, he folded her into a soft embrace
With a touch he sent her fast asleep with a smile upon her face.

"Sleep content, my love," he said, "I can not cause you pain.
For the dawn will find me far away, and won't be back again.
And though I'd take you if I could, I am not what I seem.
So forget we ever tarried here, and wake as from a dream."

"For I am not of your world,  my love, I come from another time,
And I crossed here from the borderlands between your world and mine.
It was there that I first heard your voice and longed for your
     face to see.
And I gathered all the powers I had and stepped out on your lea."

"And you know I watched you quietly as you danced upon the hill.
And though I dared not call to you, I loved you stronger still.
But no longer do I have the power, no longer can I stay.
And I'll be pulled back into my time by the dawning of the day."

"But I will be your pillow, where e'er your head will lie
And I'll be the star you can only catch in the corner of your eye.
And I'll be the sound of laughter in the first low flower of dawn.
And I'll be the touch to brush your cheek, and wake you in the morning."

Saying this, he bended low, and he kissed her once goodbye
And as as the dawn broke on the hill, he vanished like a sigh.
And the maid she opened up her eyes and smiled up through the trees
For as she listened, she could almost hear his voice upon the breeze.

"I know you hear me, love."  she spoke as she lay on her grassy bed.
"For I felt your touch and I felt your kiss, and I heard the words
     you said.
But the next time that our worlds combine, cannot be very far,
And I'll be waiting then to take your hand and dance among the stars."

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Written by Chris Caswell and Danny Carnahan, and recorded on
"Borderlands," Kicking Mule Records, KMC-316, Copyright 1982.
@love
filename[ BORDERLD
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORDERLINES
(Valerie Depriest and Gail Gingrich)

I'm hearing how business is tough in America
And they say the union's out of hand.
But I read in the news today about the latest threat to my pay
This is one thing I must understand.
They're telling us that they cannot afford our wage
As they turn their greedy eyes on distant shores.

As patrols guard the borderlines and I'm standing in a picket line
Corporate boardroom plans are formed to move my plant to Ecuador
Where for fifty cents a day, a worker slaves her life away
And then they tell me she's my enemy.

At first I did not have the time to trouble myself with the world
And it all seemed so very far away.
But now I'm in a worried mood, Ucause hands need work and kids need food
And I just got laid off today.
They're telling us that it is just good business
As foreign sweat spells profit like disease

As patrols guard the borderlines and I'm standing in an unemployment line
While in the Philippines, a mind grows numb from sewing seams
Guatemalan hills of cash; a coffee picker's skull is smashed
And then they tell me he's my enemy.

Now I am finally putting it all together;
Borderlines won't score my loyalty.
They don't care who is the drone; hands of yellow, black, or brown.
Profit is their only deity.
As corporate hands of power reach around the world,
They'll strangle any weak neck they can find.

From the diamond mines of Africa to the fields of El Salvador,
From the sweatshops down in Mexico to the wire slots in Tokyo,
Sweat is sweat and blood is blood, and one day soon the time must come
We'll stand and face our common enemy.

Sweat is sweat and blood is blood, and one day soon the time must come
We'll stand and face our common enemy.

copyright Valerie Depriest and Gail Gingrich
@political @labor
filename[ BORDERLN
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORED OF THE DANCE
(Nudds & Sugden)

As I walked down to the village hall
I met Charlie leanin' on the wall
"Why are you standin' out here, Char-lee?"
"Cause I am bored of the dance!" said he!

Chorus:
    Dance! Dance! Whatever do they see?
    In prancin' round all the time, said he
    I'll leave them all to do it without me
    For I am bored of the dance, said he!

I come to the dance with my girl, he said
I told her that I'd rather go to bed,
Oh yes I'm sure you would, said she,
But first you'll come and dance with me!

She said, You'll come and dance right now!
But I weren't list'nin' when the caller told us how
They "cast left," but "right" I went
They danced on, but I ended in the "Gents'!"

I drank with the Morris-men, James and John,
They drank with me as the dance went on and on,
We drank and we drank till it all went black.
It's hard to dance when you're lyin' on your back!

Oh, how she danced on the night they were wed
She danced, he drank, and then they went to bed
I'm afraid there's no more story to be told
She was too hot, and he was out cold!

From The Kipper Family, Fresh Yesterday
Copyright Dambuster Records
@dance @parody
filename[ BORDDNCE
play.exe LORDANCE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORING FOR OIL

One morning in a ramble I met this fair maid
So handsome and lovely, and to her I said,
"For all of my fortune I'm willing to toil
If you show me the place to go boring for oil"

The fair maid she stammered, "Young man, I declare
I know where that place is, and watch it with care.
And no one has seen it since I was a child
And if you go there you shall surely find oil."

"Fain," say I to myself,"My fortune is made.
If you show me that place now I'll see you're repaid"
She hoisted her garments for me to see all
And she showed me the place to go boring for oil.

I thanked that fair maiden a hundred times o'er,
And I bade her be seated on nature's green shore,
She screamed and she hollered, and tried to recoil
When I pulled out Old Satan, and went boring for oil.

We had not bored long, when the maid cried "Go slow!"
And the oil from her oiler then gently did flow;
She screamed and she hollered, my character to soil
"You've broken my bladder a-boring for oil!"

combined version from Folk Songs of Wisconson (Peters) and R.
 Greenhaus' memory of a misguided childhood.
@bawdy @sex
filename[ BOREOIL
play.exe BOREOIL
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORIS, BORIS

Boris was a gentleman
In the Tsar's regime;
Boris was a gentleman
Or so it did seem.
     Boris had a lady fair
     Her name it was Loween
     And ev'ry night she'd wake in fright
     And this is what she'd scream:

cho: Boris, Boris, save me, save me
     From the Cossacks at my heels (hey! hey! hey!)
     Boris, Boris, save me, save me
     There are only three more reels.

Boris rode upon a horse
Sagging in the middle
Boris rode upon a horse,
Playing on a fiddle.
     It was Boris, not the horse
     Sagging in the middle;
     It was the horse, not Boris
     Playing on the fiddle.
Boris had an accident, it wasn't all his fault
Boris sneezed and, what you think?
The horse he caught a colt.

Boris, in Siberia,
A bushy beard did grow
And when he died, he willed this beard
To Miss Loween to go.
     And ev'ry night she wakes in fright
     And murmurs 'neath her breath
     "Boris, Boris,
     "You're tickling me to death."

@Russian @animal @kids
Note: learned from a "heroic monotone" named Alan Shulman ca.
     1953. Tune is (more or less) Hatikvah, freely rendered,
filename[ BORSBORS
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORN FREE

Born free,  as free as the wind blows
As free as the grass grows,
Born free to follow your heart

Live free and beauty surrounds you,
The world still astounds you
Each time you look at a star.

Stay free, where no walls divide you,
You're free as a roaring tide,
So there's no need to hide.
Born free, and life is worth living,
But only worth living,
Because you're born free.

from film based on book of some title (Joy Adamson)
about raising lion cub and setting her free
@animal
filename[ BORNFREE
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BORSCHT CIRCUIT WHOOPIE
(probably Gus Kahn himself)

Now, this place here, has atmosphere
For little girls who have no fear
'Cause in the nighttime, it is the right time
For making . . .

      Gaggity rachity snipity pitzity hetzity petzity tsee!
                               (or "hetzilah petzilah zetz!")

Well, in the morning, you wake up yawning
From all the whoopie, you've done 'til dawning
It's really killing, the way they're willing
To make . . .

      Gaggity rachity snipity pitzity hetzity petzity tsee!

break:      Picture a little love nest
            Where you can love and spoon
            Couples go there in maytime
            Come back with their kids next June

Uhn anderah fairdt, uhn anderah zach  [a horse of another color, another thing
Di ganseh veldt iss ibber gekacked    the whole world is redefecated (recycled)
Noch a season, noch a reason           another season (English), another reason
(Eng.)
Fur machn . . .                         for making . . .]

      Gaggity rachity snipity pitzity hetzity petzity tsee!       [nonsense]

Ich ken a maidel, next door tsu mir     [I know a little girl, next door to me
Kuck zee oiss vee a geschvir             she appears to be a pregnant one
Zee iss nischt kain kluger, ubber zee
   iss mishugeh                          she's not too bright, but she's crazy
Fur machn . . .                                     about making . . .]

      Gaggity rachity snipity pitzity hetzity petzity tsee!

From Nat Wachs, Evergreen Manor (bygone), Ellenville, NY
@Yiddish @parody
filename[ WHOOPIE2
play.exe MAKWHOOP
JK
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOSTON AND MAINE
(Kim Wallach)

Chorus: Boston and Maine, Boston and Maine, Boston and Maine
And the Soo Line
Boston and Maine, Boston and Maine, Boston and Maine
And the Soo Line.

Route  2  east and 140 south,  I love your eyes and
   I love your mouth
Route 2 west and 31 north, I want you to rock me back and forth.

Sunset's red and the sky is blue,  never knew trouble like loving
   you
Geese they fly and the leaves they fall; Sometimes I don't
   understand you at all.

Warm in the day and it's cold at night, honey I hate it
   when we fight
Warm  in the valley,  cold on high,  i hope we don't
  have to say goodbye

See that train comin' down the track, I'd like to get on
  and never come back,
Leave my worries, and my cares too, but honey I don't
  think I can leave you.

COPYRIGHT 1985 Kim Wallach
@train
filename[ BSTN&ME
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOSTON CITY

I was born in Boston city boys, a place you all know well
Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll tell
Brought up by honest parents and raised most tenderly
Till I became a sporting lad at the age of twenty three.

My character was taken and I was sent to jail
My parents tried to bail me out, but found it was in vain
The jury found me guilty, the clerk he wrote it down
The judge he passed my sentence, I was sent to Charlestown.

I see my aged father, and he standing by the bar
Likewise my aged mother, and she tearing of her hair
The tearing of those old grey locks, and the tears came mingled down
Saying,"Johnny my son what have you done that you're bound for Charles-
town."

There's a girl in Boston city, boys, a place you all know well
And if e'er I get my liberty, it's with her I will dwell
If e'er I get my liberty, bad company I will shun
The robbing of the Munster, and the drinking of the rum.

You lads that are at liberty, should keep it while you can
Don't roam the street by night or day, or break the laws of man
For if you do you're sure to rue, and become a lad like me
A-serving up your twenty-one years in the Royal Artillery

@outlaw
filename[ BSTNCITY
HB
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOSTON HARBOR

From Boston harbor we set sail
And the wind was blowin' the devil of a gale
With the ring-tail set all about the mizzen peak
And the dolphin striker plowin' up the deep

cho: With a big bow wow, tow row row
     Fal dee rall dee di do day.

The up steps the skipper from down below
And he looks aloft, boys, and he looks alow
And he looks alow and he looks aloft
And it's tighten up your ropes, boys, fore and aft.

cho:

Then it's down to his cabin he quickly falls
To his poor old steward then he bawls
"Fix me a glass that will make me cough
'Cause it's better weather here than it is up aloft."

cho:

While it's we poor seamen that are up on the decks
With the blasted rain falling down our necks
And not a drop of grog will he afford
For he damns our eyes with every other word.

cho:

Now there's just one thing we all do crave
That he will find a watery grave
We will heave him down into some dark hole
Where the sharks'll have his body and the Devil have his soul.

cho:

Now the old bugger is dead and gone
And damn his eyes, he's left a son
And if to us he doesn't prove frank
We'll very soon make him walk the plank.

@sailor
filename[ BSTNHRBR
play.exe BSTNHRBR
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOTANY BAY

Come all you men of learning,
And a warning take by me,
I would have you quit night walking,
And shun bad company.
I would have you quit night walking,
Or else you'll rue the day,
You'll rue your transportation, lads,
When you're bound for Botany Bay.

I was brought up in London town
And a place I know full well,
Brought up by honest parents
For the truth to you I'll tell.
Brought up by honest parents,
And rear'd most tenderly,
Till I became a roving blade,
Which proved my destiny.

My character soon taken was,
And I was sent to jail,
My friends they tried to clear me,
But nothing could prevail.
At the Old Bailey Sessions,
The Judge to me did say,
"The Jury's found you guilty, lad,
So you must go to Botany Bay."

To see my aged father dear,
As he stood near the bar,
Likewise my tender mother,
Her old grey locks to tear;
In tearing of her old grey locks
These words to me did say,
"O Son! O Son! What have you done
That you're going to Botany Bay?"

It was on the twenty eighth of May,
From England we did steer,
And, all things being safe on board
We sail'd down the river, clear.
And every ship that we pass'd by,
We heard the sailors say,
"There goes a ship of clever hands,
And they're bound for Botany Bay."

There is a girl in Manchester,
A girl I know full well,
And if ever I get my liberty,
Along with her I'll dwell.
O, then I mean to marry her,
And no more to go astray;
I'll shun all evil company,
Bid adieu to Botany Bay.

@outlaw @transport
filename[ BOTNYBAY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOTANY BAY 2

Oh, there's Glasgow and Berwick and Penterville,
There's Portsmouth and old Dartmoor;
But they ain't of interest to none of us
For we're bound for a far foreign shore.

cho: Singing tooroolie ooroolie ooroolay, (spoken: Also..)
     Tooroolie ooroolie ay (spoken: Likewise...)
     Tooroolie ooroolie ooroolay (spoken: Not forgetting)
     Tooroolie ooroolie ay.

It's not leaving old England we care about,
 Nor sailing for shores far away,
It's the blooming monotony wears us out
 And the prospect of Botany Bay.

Oh, the Captain and all the ship's officers
 The Bo's'n and all of the crew,
The first and second class passengers,
 Knows what us poor convicts go through.

Oh, come all ye dukes and ye duchesses
 And harken and list to my lay,
Be sure that ye owns all ye touchesses
 Or they'll land you in Botany Bay.

Oh, had I the wings of a turtle dove,
 Away on my pinions I'd fly,
Straight into the arms of my lady love,
 And there I would languish and die.

             ( Navy Verse )
It's not the rolling and pitching we care about,
 Nor the foam on the crest of the wave
It's the foam in the neck of the bottle,
 That's dragging us down to our graves.


From Book of Navy Songs, USNA
@emigrate   @deportation @outlaw @sailor
filename[ BOTBAY2
play.exe BOTBAY2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOTH OF YOU

The first time that we met, well, you swept me off my feet
I thought you were the finest man that ever I would meet
And then I saw you at the lake, as handsome as could be
I smiled and waved, but you said:  "I think you want my brother,
   dear, not me."

But you said you wouldn't mind a walk around the lake
And in the golden sunset glow, my heart began to ache
Because I felt the magic start, just as I'd felt with him
And though our feet were on dry land, my head was in a swim

(CHORUS)
   Oh, I guess I'll have to fall in love with both of you
   I can't give just one of you my heart
   I guess I'll have to fall in love with both of you
   'Cause I can't tell the two of you apart
Well, one of you is strong and kind -- the other one is, too
And each of you is twice as sweet as any one -- or two
If I were twice the woman, or if you were half the men
Then we could be a happy two -- or four -- and start again

But meantime I'm just trying to make three go into two
And half the time I'm wishing that the other one was you
But mostly I just give up and accept the way things are
And love the man who leads the band on fiddle -- and guitar

(CHORUS)

by Mark Cohen
Copyright Mark Cohen 1983
@love @courting  @twins
filename[ BOTHOFYU
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOTH SIDES NOW
(Joni Mitchell)

Bows and flows of angel hair
And ice-cream castles in the sky
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked to clouds that way.
But now they only block the sun,
They rain and snow on everyone.
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way.
I've looked at clouds from both sides now,
From up and down, and still somehow,
Its cloud illusions I recall,
I really don't know clouds at all.

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I've looked at clouds that way.
But now its just another show
you leave 'em laughing when they go
And if you care don't let them know
Don't give yourself away.
I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all.

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way.
But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
But something's lost and something's gained
In living every day.
I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all.

Copyright Joni Mitchell
filename[ BOTHSIDE
play.exe BOTHSIDE
LV
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOTTLE OF WINE
(Tom Paxton)

Ramblin' around this dirty old town
Singin' for nickels and dimes
Times getting rough I ain't got enough
To buy me a bottle of wine

     Bottle of wine, fruit of the vine
     When you gonna let me get sober
     Leave me along, let me go home
     I wann'a go back and start over

Little hotel, older than Hell
Cold and as dark as a mine
Blanket so thin, I lie there and grin
Buy me little bottle of wine

     CHORUS
Aches in my head, bugs in my bed
Pants so old that they shine
Out on the street, tell the people I meet
Won'ch buy me a bottle of wine

     CHORUS

Teacher must teach, and the preacher must preach
Miner must dig in the mine
I ride the rods, trusting in God
And hugging my bottle of wine

     CHORUS

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Copyright United Artists Co, Inc.
sung by Paxton on Ain't That News
@drink @bum
filename[ BOTLWINE
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOULAVOGUE
(P.J.McCall)

At Boulavogue, as the sun was setting
O'er bright May meadows of Shelmalier,
A rebel hand set the heather blazing
And brought the neighbors from far and near.
Then Father Murphy, from old Kilcormack,
Spurred up the rocks with a warning cry;
"Arm! Arm!" he cried, "for I've come to lead you,
For Ireland's freedom we fight or die."

He led us on 'gainst the coming soldiers,
The cowardly Yeomen we put to flight;
'Twas at the Harrow the boys of Wexford
Showed Bookey's regiment how men could fight.

Look out for hirelings, King George of England,
Search every kingdom where breathes a slave,
For Father Murphy of the County Wexford
Sweeps o'er the land like a mighty wave.

We took Camolin and Enniscorthy,
And Wexford storming drove out our foes;
'Twas at Slieve Coillte our pikes were reeking
With the crimson stream of the beaten yeos.

At Tubberneering and Ballyellis
Full many a Hessian lay in his gore;
Ah, Father Murphy, had aid come over,
The green flag floated from shore to shore!

At Vinegar Hill, o'er the pleasant Slaney,
Our heroes vainly stood back to back,
And the Yeos at Tullow took Father Murphy
And burned his body upon the rack.

God grant you glory, brave Father Murphy,
And open Heaven to all your men;
The cause that called you may call tomorrow
In another fight for the green again.

Recorded by Galvin, Clancys
@Irish rebellion @war
filename[ BOULVOGE
play.exe BOULVOGE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOUND DOWN FOR NEWFOUNDLAND 2

On St. Patrick's Day, the seventeenth,
From New York we set sail.
Kind fortune did favour us
With a sweet and pleasant gale,
We bore away from Americay
The wind being off the land.
With courage brave we ploughed the wave
Bound down for Newfoundland.

Our captain's name was Nelson
Just twenty years of age.
As true, as brave a sailor lad
As ever ploughed a wave,
The Eveline our brig was called
Belonging to McLean;
With courage brave we ploughed the wave
Bound down for Newfoundland.

When three days out, to our surprise,
Our captain he fell sick.
And shorthly was not able
To show himself on deck.
The fever raged, which made us fear
That death was near at hand
We bore away from Halifax
Bound down for Newfoundland.

We made the land, but knew it not
For strangers we were all;
Our captain was not able
To come on deck at all.
Then we were obliged to haul
Our brig from off the land
With laden hearts we put to sea
Bound down for Newfoundland.

All that long night we ran our brig
Till none o'clock next day.
Our captain, on the point of death,
To our record did say,
"We'll bear away for Cape Canso
Now, boys, come lend a hand
And trim your topsail to the wind
Bound down for Newfoundland."

At three o'clock we sighted a light
Which we were glad to see.
The smallpox it being raging
(That's what it proved to be)
And at four o'clock in the afternoon
As judge as God's command
We anchored her safe in Arichat
Bound down for Newfoundland.

And for help and medicine
Ashore then we did go.
Our captain on the point of death
Our sympathy to show,
At five o'clock in the afternoon
As judge as God's command
In Arichat he breathed his last
Bound down for Newfoundland.

All that ling night we did lament
For our departed friend
And we were praying unto God
For what had been his end.
We'll pray the God will guide us
And keep us by his hand
And give us fair wind while at sea
Bound down for Newfoundland.

From Songs and Ballads from Nova Scotia, Creighton
@sailor @disease @death
filename[ BNDNEWF2
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOUND DOWN TO NEWFOUNDLAND

You landsmen that live on land,
It's little do you know
What us poor seamen do endure
When stormy winds do blow;
On St. Patrick's Day we sailed away
In the Schooner Mary Ann,
We left New York, our native home,
Bound down for Newfoundland.

The morning service it being o'er
We quickly slipped our lines,
And the Liberty statue in New York
We soon left far behind.
We spread our canvas to the breeze
For to shove us off the land
As we squared away from our native homes,
Bound down to Newfoundland.

Our captain was a strapping youth
Scarce thirty years of age;
He was wedded to his loving wife
Three days before we sailed,
But little did she ever think,
As you might understand,
That her husband dear she would see no more
As he sailed for Newfoundland.

Three days after we set sail
Our captain he fell sick,
And scarcely was he able
To show himself on deck,
He called his mate unto him
And thus to him did say,
"I am stricken down with some disease
As you might understand,

And to you, my mate, I will leave full charge,
Bound down to Newfoundland."
But if you can reach any port
On the Nova Scotia shore,
Give me a decent burial;
Of you I'll ask no more,
And if you ever do reach New York,
My death you will make known,
For my dying, sorrow it will bring
To my once-loved native shore. "

With saddened hearts we swung her off
His orders to obey;
We made the land quite early
All on that very day,
And four o'clock in the evening
It was at God's command,
In Arichat our captain died,
Bound down to Newfoundland.

The doctor he was called on board
His death for to make known,
Smallpox on board was raging,
Was told to every man,
It was on the following evening
Two more were sent on shore;
May the Lord have mercy on their souls
We shall never see them more.

Out of five bold youths that left New York
Only two now did return
Home to their wives and families
Their losses for to mourn.
Home to their wives and families,
And never more to roam,
And learn to live as landsmen do
Forever safe at home.

From Maritime Folk Songs, Creighton
Collected from Berton Young, West Petpeswick, 1951
Note: you can fit in the longer verse 4 by repeating
     the last two lines of the tune. RG
@sailor @disease @death
filename[ BNDNEWF
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOUND FOR GLORY
(Phil Ochs)

He walked all over his own growing land
From the New York isle to the California sand
He saw all the people that needed to be seen
Planted all the grass where it needed to be green

  And now he is bound for a glory all his own
  How he is bound for glory

He wrote and he sang and he rode upon the rails
And he got on board when the sailors had to sail
He said all the words that needed to be said
Fed all the hungry souls that needed to be fed

He sang in our streets and he sang in our halls
And he was always there when the unions gave a call
He did all the jobs that needed to be done
He always stood his ground when a smaller man would run

And its "pastures of plenty" wrote the dustbowl balladeer
And "this land is your land", he wanted us to hear
And the rising of the unions will be sung about again
And the "deportees" live on through the power of his pen

Now they sing out his praises on every distant shore
But so few remember what he was fighting for
Oh why sing the songs and forget about the man
He wrote them for a reason, why not sing them for the same

Note: Och's tribute to Woody Guthrie
Copyright Appleseed Music
Recorded by Ochs on All the News that's Fit to Print
filename[ BOUNGLOR
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOUND FOR THE MOUNTAINS AND THE SEA
(Tom Paxton)

If you can't come along, Love, then you must stay behind
You're bound to say farewell to me
I must bid you goodbye, though I hate to see you cry
But I'm bound for the mountains and the sea
Fare thee well, for I'm bound for the mountains and the sea

It's so hard to explain, why I'm leaving once again
It's nothing that I haven't done before
It ain't much, I guess, but the thing I love the best
Is rambling this land from shore to shore
In this land, rambling this land from shore to shore

I have walked, I have thumbed, I've rode buses, I've rode trains
I've ridden a time or two in a silver plane
When I think of where I've been, I just have to go again
Just to see if everything is still the same
In this land, just to see if everything is still the same

So it's fare thee well, my dear, and I must be on my way
There's many a thing I want to do and see
I'm a mighty restless man in a mighty restless land
And I'm bound for the mountains and the sea
I'm bound for the mountains and the sea

@travel
Copyright Tom Paxton
recorded by Paxton
filename[ MOUNTSEA
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOUND TO AUSTRALIA

1. I'm leaving old England, the land that I love
     And I'm bound for across the sea;
     Oh, I'm bound for Australia, the land of the free
     Where there'll be a welcome for me.

  Ch. So fill up yer glasses an' drink what ye please,
           For whatever's the damage I'll pay,
          So be aisy an' free, whilst yer drinkin' wid me,
          Sure I'm a man yiz don't meet every day!

2. When I board me ship for the south'ard to go,
     She'll 0be looking so trim and so fine,
     And I'll land me aboard, wid me bags and me stores,
     From the dockside they'll cast off each line.

 3. To Land's End we'll tow, wid our boys aIl so tight,
     Wave a hearty goodbye to the shore,
     An' we'll drink the last drop to our country's green land,
     An' the next day we'll curse [nurse] our heads sore.

4. We'll then drop the tugs and sheet tops'Is home taut,
    An' the hands will crowd sail upon sail,
    Wid a sou'wester strong, boys, we'll just tack along,
    By the morn many jibs will turn pale.

5. We'll beat past the Ushant and then down the Bay,
    Where the west wind it bIows fine an' strong,
    We'll soon git the Trades an' we should make good time,
    To the south'ard then we'll roll along.

6. Round the Cape we will roll, take our flyin' kites in,
    For the Forties will sure roar their best,
    An' then run our Eastin' wid yards all set square,
    Wid the wind roaring out of the west.

7. We'll then pass Cape Looin all shipshape an' trim,
    Then head up for Adelaide Port,
    Off Semaphore Roads we will there drop our hook,
    An' ashore, boys, we'll head for some sport.

8. When I've worked in Australia for twenty long years,
    One day will I head homeward bound,
    Wid a nice little fortune tucked under me wing,
    By a steamship I'll travel I'm bound!

9. So 'tis goodbye to Sally an' goodbye to Sue
    When I'm leavin' Australia so free,
    Where the gals are so kind, but the one left behind
    Is the one that will one day splice me!


From Hugill, Shanties of the Seven Seas

@sailor @Australia @emigrate
see also JSTEWART
filename[ BNDAUST
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOUNTY HUNTER
(Mike Cross)

Good evenin' to you Mister,
The Bounty Hunter said.
You don't know me but I know
There's a price upon your head.
I know you're wanted dead or alive,
That's what the posters say,
But I never shoot a man at night
When he ain't had time to pray.

So I'll give you until sunrise,
Tomorrow, my friend,
Before I come to shoot you down
And bring your body in.
I warn you that I do my work
Quite well with gun or knife.
I've tracked down many a man,
I've taken many of life.

Father, do not mourn for me --
Mother do not weep.
Whatever a man soweth --
That also shall he reap.

I spent a long and sleepless night
With fear upon my breast,
Tryin' to get ready for
My morning duel with death.
I hid up in a hayloft,
Out on the edge of town
And at sunrise the Bounty Hunter
Came to shoot me down.

I fired down at the Bounty Hunter
Standin' in the street.
He raised his gun and fired a round
Of shots back up at me.
He hit my chest and shoulder
And my gun flew from my hand.
Now I'm trapped up in this hayloft,
A wounded, unarmed man.

The Bounty Hunter holds his fire
And hollers up at me,
``Come out and take it like a man,
I'll make it quick and clean.''
I know my time is running out
And there's no way I can stall,
So I reach and grab the pitchfork,
That's hanging on the wall.

My body arches as I stretch
And face the risin' sun
And I feel like a warrior's bow,
Freshly carved and strung.
I launch my body through the air,
And the pitchfork in my hand
Stabs the Bounty Hunter through the chest
And pins him to the sand.

Now my muscles start to rust,
My thoughts are grownin' cold
While Gabriel and Satan,
Shoot craps for my soul.

@outlaw @death
Copyright Mike Cross
tune is a slight variant on  BUFFSKN2
filename[ BOUNTYHN
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BOWERY GRENADIERS

We're a gallant bunch of heroes,
We've been organized ten years.
And we're known throughout the city
As the Bowery Grenadiers;
We've had three fights with the Houlihans
And won ten thousand cheers.
You can bet your neck you won't forget
The Bowery Grenadiers!

cho: We can lick the Brooklyn Guards
     If they'll only show their cards.
     We can run like the devil
     If the ground is level
     For about four hundred yards.
     And the girls, the little dears,
     They're in love up to their ears
     When they see the style
     And smell the hair ile
     Of the Bowery Grenadiers.

When the ladies are in danger
And the flames about them roar,
We're the lads who fight through fire and smoke
For a rescue quick and sure.
But when we march on a Saturday
And the Mulligans beat tattoo
We're good old stock with a cobble rock
And a length of gaspipe, too.

Collected by John Alison, who wrote the tune).
note: Volunteer fire departments in New York in the mid-1800s were
     largely Hibernian social (and anti-social) clubs; several buildings
     were known to have burned down while two competing volunteer
     groups slugged it out to see who would have the honor of fighting
     the fire.
@fire @fight
filename[ BOWRYGRN
play.exe BOWRYGRN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOWLING GREEN

Wish I was in Bowling Green sittin' in a chair
One arm round my pretty little miss
'Tother 'round my dear
'Tother 'round my dear,
     Bowling Green
     Oh you good old Bowling Green.

If you see that man of mine, tell him once for me
If he loves another girl,
Yes I'II set him free
Yes I'II set him free,
     Bowling Green
     Oh you good old Bowling Green.

Wish I was a bumblebee sailing through the air
Sail right down to my true love's side,
Touch him if you dare.
Touch him if you dare,

Goin' through this whole wide world,
I'm goin' through alone;
Goin' through this whole wide world,
I ain't got no home,
I ain't got no home.

Recorded by Cousin Emmy, also Kossoy Sisters
@banjo @love
filename[ BOWLGREN
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RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOY AND THE MANTLE

IN the third day of may,
To Carleile did come
A kind curteous child,
That cold much of wisdome.

A kirtle and a mantle
This child had uppon,
With brouches and ringes
Full richelye bedone.

He had a sute of silke
About his middle drawne
Without he cold of curtesye
He thought itt much shame.

God speed thee, king Arthur,
Sitting at thy meate
And the goodly queene Guenever,
I cannott her forgett.

I tell you, lords, in this hall;
I hett you all to heede;
Except you be the more surer
Is you for to dread.

He plucked out of his poterner,
And longer wold not dwell,
He pulled forth a pretty mantle,
Betweene two nut-shells.

Have thou here, king Arthur;
Have thou heere of mee:
Give itt to thy comely queene
Shapen as itt is alreadye.

Itt shall never become that wiffe,
That hath once done amisse.
Then every knight in the kings court
Began to care for his.

Forth came dame Guenever;
To the mantle shee her hied;
The ladye shee was newfangle,
But yett shee was affrayd.

When shee had taken the mantle;
She stoode as shee had beene madd:
It was from the top to the toe
As sheeres had itt shread.

One while was itt gule;
Another while was itt greene;
Another while was itt wadded:
IIl itt did her beseeme

Another while was it blacke
And bore the worst hue:
By my troth, quoth king Arthur,
I thinke thou be not true

Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee;
Fast with a rudd redd,
To her chamber can shee flee.

She curst the weaver, and the walker
That clothe that had wrought;
And bade a vengeance on his crowne,
That hither hath itt brought

I had rather be in a wood,
Under a greene tree;
Then in king Arthurs court
Shamed for to bee.

Kay called forth his ladye,
And bade her come neere;
Saies, Madam, and thou be guiltye,
I pray thee hold thee there

Forth came his ladye
Shortlye and anon;
Boldlye to the mantle
Then is shee gone

When she had tane the mantle,
And cast it her about;
Then was shee bare
Before all the rout.

Then every knight,
That was in the kings court,
Talked, laughed, and showted
Full oft att that sport

Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee;
Fast, with a red rudd,
To her chamber can shee flee.

Forth came an old knight
Pattering ore a creede,
And he proferred to this litle boy
Twenty markes to his meede;

And all the time of the Christmasse
Willinglye to ffeede;
For why this mantle might
Doe his wiffe some need.

When she had tane the mantle,
Of cloth that was made,
Shee had no more left on her,
But a tassell and a threed:
Then every knight in the kings court
Bade evill might shee speed.

Shee threw downe the mantle,
That bright was of blee;
And fast, with a redd rudd,
To her chamber can shee flee.

Craddocke called forth his ladye,
And bade her come in;
Saith, Winne this mantle, ladye,
With a litle dinne.

Winne this mantle, ladye,
And it shal be thine,
If thou never did amisse
Since thou wast mine.

Forth came Craddockes ladye
Shortlye and anon;
But boldlye to the mantle
Then is shee gone.

When shee had tane the mantle
And cast itt her about,
Upp att her great toe
It began to crinkle and crowt
Shee said, bowe downe, mantle,
And shame me not for nought.

Once I did amisse,
I tell you certainlye,
When I kist Craddockes mouth
Under a greene tree;
When I kist Craddockes mouth
Before he marryed mee.

When shee had her shreeven,
And her sines shee had tolde;
The mantle stoode about her
Right as shee wold:

Seemelye of coulour
Glittering like gold:
Then every knight in Arthurs court
Did her behold.

Then spake dame Guenever
To Arthur our king;
She hath tane yonder mantle
Not with right, but with wronge.

See you not yonder woman,
That maketh her self soe cleane?
I have seene tane out of her bedd
Of men fifteene.

Priests, clarkes, and wedded men
From her bedeene:
Yett shee taketh the mantle,
And maketh her self cleane.

Then spake the litle boy,
That kept the mantle in hold;
Sayes, king, chasten thy wiffe,
Of her words shee is to bold:

Shee is a bitch and a witch,
And a whore bold:
King, in thine owne hall
Thou art a cuckold.

The litle boy stoode
Looking out a dore;
[And there as he was lookinge
He was ware of a wyld bore.]

He was ware of a wyld bore,
Wold have werryed a man:
He pulld forth a wood kniffe,
Fast thither that he ran:

He brought in the bores head,
And quitted him like a man.
He brought in the bores head,
And was wonderous bold:
He said there was never a cuckolds kniffe
Carve itt that cold.

Some rubbed their knives
Uppon a whetstone:
Some threw them under the table,
Some said they had none

King Arthur, and the child
Stood looking upon them;
All their knives edges
Turned backe againe.

Craddocke had a litle knive
Of iron and of steele;
He britled the bores head
Wonderous weele;
That every knight in the kings court
Had a morssell.

The litle boy had a home,
Of red gold that ronge:
He said, there was noe cuckolde
Shall drinke of my home;
But he shold it sheede
Either behind or beforne.

Some shedd on their shoulder,
And some on their knee;
He that cold not hitt his mouthe,
Put it in his eye:
And he that was a cuckold
Every man might him see.

Craddocke wan the horne,
And the bores head:
His ladie wan the mantle
Unto her meede
Everye such a lovely ladye
God send her well to speede

Printed in Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol III
Child #29
Child's version is from Percy
@magic @marriage @infidelity @KingArthur
filename[ BOYMANT1
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A BOY FULL OF PROMISE

A boy full of promise, so you were known
A promising man to be
But the seeds are sown ere the sprouts are grown
Where the Lax river seeks the sea
You could swim like a seal and hunt the chase
Fight like your foes were cursed
But in contest or race you've got second place
For Kjartan your cousin was first
     Bolli, Bolli Thorleikson, why do you look so mild?
     You're the best of friends, but where friendship ends
     You'd like to win once in a while

Gudrun the Proud was in Kjartan's grip
She was to be his bride
But he fitted his ship, took you on the trip
And told her she must abide
Two years in Norway, great honor's earned
But you sailed home alone
Gudrun was spurned, Kjartan wouldn't return
So you took her for your own
     Bolli, Bolli Thorleikson, why do you look so black?
     You can tell by the horn on the very next morn
     He's come back-- he's back

Why did you have to stay in that place
With Kjartan just down the road
Would losing face be a greater disgrace
Than watching respect erode?
The slights and the slurs grew like gathering clouds
Hatred it built like the wind
One so proud ne'er say it aloud--
She'd never rest till the killings begin
     Bolli, Bolli Thorleikson, why do you look so spent
     You can't keep to your farm when her brothers have armed
     And who knows where this will end

Five brothers riding, a deadly pack
Sixth blade they hope you'll provide
When they start the attack you plan to hold back
But you know there's no place to hide
Five men beaten by one man's skill
Then you stepped forth as they bid
Kjartan laid down his steel saying strike if you will
And you did-- you did!
     Bolli, Bolli Thorleikson, why do you look so fierce
     You cradled his head till you knew he was dead
     But you could not find your tears

Back now quickly to Gudrun's side
Back now you hope to her heart
But many have died for a woman's pride

@viking @SCA @filk
filename[ BOYPROM
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
A BOY NAMED SUE

My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me ``Sue.''

Well, he must o' thought that is was quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I'd get red
And some guy'd laugh and I'd bust his head,
I tell ya, life ain't easy for a boy named ``Sue.''

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from town to town to hide my shame.
But I made me a vow to the moon and stars
That I'd search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man that give me that awful name.

Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry,
I thought I'd stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon on a street of mud,
There at a table, dealing stud,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me ``Sue.''

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother'd had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: ``My name is `Sue!' How do you do! Now you gonna
  die!!''

Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down but, to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a' gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.

I tell ya, I've fought tougher men
But I really can't remember when,
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.

And he said: ``Son, this world is rough
And if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough
And I know I wouldn't be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you'd have to get tough or die
And it's that name that helped to make you strong.''

He said: ``Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn't blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you `Sue.'''

I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I come away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I'm gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!
@name @fight
filename[ BOYSUE
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOYS OF THE OLD BRIGADE

cho: Where are the lads who stood with me
     When history was made?
     Oh, gra mo chree I long to see
     The Boys of the Old Brigade.

"Oh father, why are you so sad,
on this bright Easter morn?
When Irishmen are proud and glad
Of the land where they were born."
"Oh, son, I see sad mem'ries view
Of far-off distant days,
When, being just a boy like you,
I joined the old brigade.

In hills and farms the call to arms
Was heard by one and all,
And from the glens came brave young men
To answer Ireland's call.
'Twas long ago we faced the foe,
The old brigade and me,
But by my side they fought and died
That Ireland might be free.

And now, my boy, I've told you why
On Easter morn I sigh
For I recall my comrades all
From dark old days gone by,
I think of men who fought in glens
With rifles and grenade
May Heaven keep the men who sleep
From the ranks of the old brigade.

@Irish @rebel @nostalgia
filename[ BOYSBRIG
play.exe BOYSBRIG
AM
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BOYS WILL BE BOYS
(Leon Rosselson)

Boys will be boys, it's a fact of human nature
And girls will grow up to be mothers

Look at little Peter, isn't he a terror?
Shooting all the neighbors with his cowboy gun
Screaming like a jet plane, always throwing something
I just can't control him. Trouble - he's the one.

Ah but boys will be boys, it's a fact of human nature
And girls will grow up to be mothers

Look at little Janie, Doesn't she look pretty?
Playing with her dolly, proper little mum
Never getting dirty, never being naughty
Don't punch your sister Peter, now look at what you've done

Ah but boys will be boys, it's a fact of human nature
And girls will grow up to be mothers

What's come over Janie, Janie's turning nasty
Left hook to the body, right hook in the eye
Vicious little hussy, now Peter's started bawling
What a bloody sissy, who said you could cry

Because boys must be boys, it's a fact of human nature
And girls must grow up to be mothers

Now things are topsy turvy. Janie wants a football
Peter just seems happy pushing prams along
Makes you feel so guilty.  Kids are such a worry
Doctor, doctor, tell me, where did we go wrong

Because boys must be boys, it's a fact of human nature
And girls must grow up to be mothers

Copyright Leon Rosselson
@feminist @kids
recorded by Frankie Armstrong on The Music Plays So Grand
filename[ BOYBEBOY
play.exe BOYBEBOY
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BRAES O' BALQUIDDHER (Wild Mountain Thyme)

1. Oh, the summer time is coming,
   And the trees are sweetly blooming,
   And the wild mountain thyme
   grows around the blooming heather.

Chorus:
   Will you go, lassie, go?
   And we'll all go together
   To pull wild mountain thyme
   All around the blooming heather,
   Will you go lassie, go?

2. I will build my love a bower
   By yon clear and crystal fountain,
   And on it I will pile
   All the flowers of the mountain.
3. If my true love, she won't have me,
   I will surely find another
   To pull wild mountain thyme
   All around the blooming heather.

4. Oh, the summer time is coming
   And the trees are sweetly blooming
   And the wild mountain thyme
   Grows around the blooming heather.

   from Sondra Stigen, 1984
recorded by the McPeake Family, Redpath, Clancys etc.
@love @Irish @plant
filename[ BRAEBALQ
play.exe BRAEBALQ
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRAES OF BALQUIDDER

Will you go lassie to the braes of Balquidder
Where the high mountains run
And the bonnie blooming heather
Where the ram and the deer
They go bounding together
Spend a long summer day
By the braes of Balquidder

Oh no sir, she said,
I am too young to be your lover
For my age is scarce sixteen
And I dare not for my mother
And beside being so young
I am afraid you're some deceiver
That have come to charm me here
By the braes of Balquidder

Fare you well, my pretty maiden
Your beauty soon will alter
I will deprive you of this chance
And live happy with some other
I will roam this world all over
Until I find some maid of honor
That will go along with me
To the braes of Balquidder

Oh come back, oh come back
For I think you're no deceiver
oh come back, oh come back
I will never love none other
I will leave all my friends
Father, Mother, Sister, Brother
And I will go along with you
To the braes of Balquidder

Oh now they have gone
To that bonnie highland mountain
For to view the green fields
Likewise its silvery fountain
Its there they are united
And joined in love together
Spend a long summer day
By the braes of Balquidder

@courting  @Scots
from the Fenwick Hatt manuscript
published in Fowke: Sea Songs and Ballads in 19th Cent Nova
Scotia
filename[  BALQUID
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BRAMBLE AND THE ROSE
(Barbara Keith)

We have been so close together
Each a candle, each a flame.
All the dangers were outside us,
And we knew them all by name.

cho: See how the bramble and the rose
     Intertwine
     Love grows like a bramble and a rose
     Round each other we will twine.

Now I've hurt you, and it hurts me
Just to see what we can do
To ourselves and to each other
Without really meaning to.

cho.

So put your arms around me
And we'll sing a true love song.
We will learn to sing together,
Sing and laugh the whole night long.

Copyright Barbara Kieth
@love @flower
filename[ BRMBLROS
XX
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BRAMBLE AND THE ROSE
(Barbara Keith)

Verse 1:

G                        D
We have been so close together
C       D               G
Each a candle, each a flame.
G                        D
All the dangers were outside us,
C        D               G
And we knew them all by name.

CHORUS:
    G    D        C              G
    See how the bramble and the rose
    C      D
    Intertwine
    G      D            C            G
    Love grows like a bramble and a rose
    C          D               G
    Round each other we will twine.

Verse 2:
Now I've hurt you, and it hurts me
Just to see what we can do
To ourselves and to each other
Without really meaning to.


Verse 3:
So put your arms around me
And we'll sing a true love song.
We will learn to sing together,
Sing and laugh the whole night long.

filename[ BRMBLROS
BJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BRAMBLE BRIAR
Sung by Mrs. Joiner, Chiswell Green, Herts. (L.E.B. 1914)

In Bruton town there lived a farmer,
Who had two sons and one daughter dear.
By day and night they were contriving
To fill their parents' heart with fear.

He told his secrets to no other,
But unto her brother this he said:
'I think our servant courts our sister.
I think they has a great mind to wed.
I'll put an end to all their courtship.
I'll send him silent to his grave.'

They asked him to go a-hunting,
Without any fear or strife,
And these two bold and wicked villains,
They took away this young man's life.

And in the ditch there was no water,
Where only bush and briars grew.
They could not hide the blood of slaughter,
So in the ditch his body they threw.

When they returned home from hunting,
She asked for her servant-man.
"I ask because I see you whisper,
So brothers tell me if you can."

"O sister, sister, you do offend me,
Because you so examine me.
We've lost him where we've been a-hunting.
No more of him we could not see."

As she lay dreaming on her pillow,
She thought she saw her heart's delight;
By her bed side as she lay weeping,
He was dressed all in his bloody coat.

"Don't weep for me, my dearest jewel,
Don't weep for me nor care nor pine,
For your two brothers killed me so cruel-
In such a place you may me find."

As she rose early the very next morning,
With heavy sigh and bitter groan,
The only love that she admired,
She found in the ditch where he was thrown.

The blood upon his lips was drying.
Her tears were salt as any brine.
She sometimes kissed him, sometimes crying:
'Here lies the dearest friend of mine.'

Three days and nights she did sit by him,
And her poor heart was filled with woe,
Till cruel hunger crept upon her,
And home she was obliged to go.

When she returned to her brothers:
"Sister, what makes you look so thin?"
"Brother, don't you ask the reason,
And for his sake you shall be hung!"

@courting  @family @murder
recorded by Tim Hart & Maddy Prior, Folksongs of Old England
filename[ JEALBRO3
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRAND NEW TENNESSEE WALTZ
(Jesse Winchester)

       C
Oh my, but you have a pretty face
         F               C
You favor a girl that I knew
     F                      C     Am
I imagine that she's still in Tennessee
       C       G7   C
And by God I should be there too
     C          G7       C
I've a sadness too sad to be true.

But I left Tennessee in a hurry, dear
The same way that I'm leaving you
'cause love is mainly just memories
And everyone's got him a few
So when I'm gone I'll be glad to love you.

(Chorus)
     F                  C
At the brand new Tennessee waltz
                    G7
You're literally waltzing on air
     F                  C
At the brand new Tennessee waltz
               G7        C
There ain't no tellin' who will be there.

When I leave it'll be like I found you, love
Descending Victorian stairs
I'm feeling like one of your photographs
I'm trapped while I'm putting on airs
And getting even by asking "Who cares?"

So have all of your passionate violins
Play a tune for a Tennessee kid
Who's feeling like leaving another town
With no place to go if he did
'cause they'll catch you wherever you're hid.

Copyright Jesse Winchester
@country
filename[ NEWTENN
BJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRANDY

There's a port on a western bay
And it serves 100 ships a day
Lonely sailors pass the time away
And talk about their lives
And there's a girl in this harbor town
And she works laying whiskey down
They say Brandy, fetch another round
And she serves them whiskey and wine.

They say,"Brandy, you're a fine girl
What a good wife you would be
You could steal a sailor
From the sea.

Brandy wears a braided chain
Made of finest silver from the
North of Spain
A locket that bears the name
Of a man that Brandy loved.
He came on a summer's day
Bringing gifts from far away
But he made it clear he couldn't stay
No harbor was his home.

Brandy, you've a fine girl,
What a good wife you would be
But my life, my love and my lady is the sea.

Brandy used to watch his eyes
When he told his sailing stories
She could feel the ocean fall and rise
She saw its raging glory,
But he had always told the truth
Lord, he was an honest man
And Brandy does her best to understand.

At night when the bars close down
Brandy walks through a silent town
And loves a man who's not around
She still can hear him say:

Brandy, you've a fine girl,
What a good wife you would be
But my life, my love and my lady is the sea.

@love @sailor
filename[ BRANDYGL
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRANDY TREE (Otter's Song)

(E) Am Em / Em Am Em / F Em / Am G Am

I go down to the brandy tree
Take my nose and my tail with me,
All for the world and the wind to see
And never come back no more.

Down in the meadowmarsh, deep and wide,
Tumble the tangle by my side,
All for the westing wind to run
And slide in the summer rain.

     C G7 G / C G7 G / Am Em / Am G Am

     Sun, come follow my happy way;
     Wind, come walk beside me.
     Moon on the mountain, go with me:
     A wondrous way I know.

I go down to the windy sea
And the little grey seal will play with me;
Slide on the rock and dive in the bay
And sleep on the ledge at night.

     But the seal don't try to tell me
     How to fish in the windy blue:
     Seals been fishing for a thousand years,
     And he knows that I have too.

When the frog goes down to the mud to sleep
And the lamprey hide in the boulders deep,
I take my nose and my tail and go
A hundred thousand hills.

Someday, down by the brandy tree,
I'll hear the Shepherd call for me;
Call me to leave my happy ways
And the shining world I know.

     Sun on the hill, come go with me,
     My days have all been free.
     The pipes come laughing down the wind
     And that's the way I go, That's the way for me.

Words and music by Gordon Bok.
Recorded on "Seal Djiril's Hymn," FSI-48
     "I learned this song from a small otter on Sherman's Point,
Knox County, State of Maine, on a cold morning in 1966.  Thinking
it over, I wrote the refrain myself.  A thousand years (I was
told) is a long time for an otter.  So should it be for us."
Copyright Folk Legacy Records, Inc 1977
@animal
filename[ BRANDYTR
play.exe BRANDYTR
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRANDY, LEAVE ME ALONE

Oh, Brandy, leave me alone
Oh, Brandy, leave me alone
Oh, Brandy, leave me alone
Remember I must go home

My home it is far away
My home it is far away
My home it is far away
Remember I cannot stay

Oh Brandy, you broke my heart
Oh Brandy, you broke my heart
Oh Brandy, you broke my heart
Remember that we must part

sung by Josef Marais
@drink
filename[ BRNDYLV
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRANDYWINE GOODBYE

 Dm             C               Dm
Autumn's in the air in Chester County
 Dm                 C             A
Clouds are flaming crimson in a Pennsylvania sky
 Dm                              C
Sunset brings a chill, summer's fading from the hill
 Bb           C               Dm
Brandywine September drifting by

CHORUS:

    Dm                     C
    Oh, the Brandywine is flowing clear and free
    Bb                          A
    Hear the blackbird and the wren
    Dm                     C
    Oh, the Brandywine is calling out to me
    Bb        C              Dm
    Wish that I were there again

Autumn sun is bright along the hillside
V's of geese from Canada fly high above the trees
Maples feel the cold, turning orange, red and gold
Brandywine October, days of peace

(CHORUS)

Autumn shadows lengthen in the valley
Northern wind is chilly and the sky is gone to gray
Daylight ends too soon, clouds are racing past the moon
Brandywine November slips away

(CHORUS)

Autumn turns to winter's silent snowfall
Branches now are frozen, black and white against the sky
Moonlight on the snow points the way for me to go
Late December, Brandywine goodbye

LAST CHORUS:

    Oh, the Brandywine lies frozen 'neath the trees
    Gone the blackbird and the wren
    Oh, the Brandywine's still whispering to me
    When will I be there again?
    Oh, the Brandywine's still whispering to me
    When will I be there again?

Copyright Mark Cohen, 1983
@seasonal @animal @river
filename[ BRANDYWN
MC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BRASS-MOUNTED ARMY

Oh, whiskey is the monster
That ruins grcat an' small,
But in old Kerby's army
Headquarters gets it all.

Oh, how do you like the army,
The brass-mounted army,
The high-fallutin' army,
Where eagle buttons rule?

They drink it when it's plenty,
Although they drink it hard,
But if a private touches it
They put him under guard.

Our army is more richer
Than when the war begun,
Furnishes three tables,
An' then they set but one.

The first is richly laden
Of chicken, goose, an' duck,
The next is pork an' mutton,
The third is pore old buck.

Our generals eat the poultry,
They git it very cheap;
Our colonels an' our captains
Devours the hogs an' sheep.

Our soldiers git so hungry
They're bound to press a pig;
The biggest stump in Dixie
They're sure to have to dig.

But when we are a-marchin',
The order number blank,
lt makes the private soldier
Forever stay in rank .

On every big plantation
Or a nigger-holder's yard,
Just to save his property,
Our generals place a guard .

An' now my song is ended,
lt's beautiful an' true;
The pore men an' the widders
Must have a line or two.

But there no guard is stationed,
Their fence is often burned;
Their property's molested,
As long ago we learned .

tune: variant on Wait for the Wagon
From Ozark Folksongs, Packard. Collected from Judy Jane
 Whittaker, MO, 1928
@war @soldier @Confederate @Civil @bitching
filename[ BRSSARMY
play.exe BRSSARMY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRASSIERES
(Earl H. Emmons)

I once was calm, reserved and shy,
 A rather quiet sort of guy,
 A simple scribe of artless odes and sonnets,
 But that's before I chanced to stray
 Into that brassiere display
 Where lovely ladies modeled bosom bonnets.

 And now my simple lyric soul
 Is prone to rear and rip and roll;
 I'm frisky as a dozen playful kittens;
 And I'm afraid I'm not the same
 Since those divine upholstered dames
 Exhibited their mamillary mittens.

 Now I admit that here and there
 Among the sex described as fair
 I've looked at bosoms foreign and domestic,
 From puny papillary warts
 And sagging saddle-baggy sorts,
 To massive mounds impressive and majestic.

 Ah yes, I've been around, and yet
 Of all the udders I have met,
 and all that I have seen and felt and tasted,
 Compared to those I saw the day
 I crashed that brassiere display
 Suggests my life has been completely wasted.

 For there were busts that stood supreme,
 The tit-ulary creme de creme;
 They filled me with tit-anic tit-illations;
 I snort and prance, my reason rants,
 My morals rip, I rend my pants
 Just thinking of those lactic decorations.

 For papillary pulchritude
 Imbues in me a wanton mood,
 My system seethes with fierce, salacious surges;
 When I recall those gorgeous gals
 And their delightful bosom pals
 My spirit howls with indecorous urges.

 And through my old rheumatic frame
 Primeval passions flash and flame;
 Those domes divine are driving me demented,
 And if but once in dishabille
 I saw them I would die I feel,
 But I would perish happy and contented.

@sex
filename[ BRASIERS
JY
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BRAVE VOLUNTEER

One mornin', one mornin', one mornin' in May
I see a young couple a-makin' their way
One was a maiden, so slim and so fair
The other a soldier and a brave volunteer.

"Good mornin', good mornin', good mornin'," says he
"Oh where be you goin' my pretty lady?"
"I be goin' a-walkin' because it is spring
To see waters glide and hear the nightingales sing"

Well they hadn't been standin' but a moment or two
When out of his knapsack a fiddle he drew
And the tune that he played made the valleys all sing
'Twas sweeter than music when the nightingales sing

"Pretty soldier, pretty soldier, will you now marry me?"
"Oh, no, pretty lady, that never could be
I've a wile in old London and babies twice three
One wife and the Army's a-plenty for me."

"But I'll Go back to old London and stay there a while
And often I'll think of you sweetly, my child.
And if e'er I return it will be in the spring e
To see waters glide and hear nightingales sing"

From Bob Beers
Recorded on the Golden Skein, Beers
@soldier @courting
filename[ NTNGALE2
play.exe NTNGALE2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRAVE WOLFE (2)

On Monday morning as we set sail
The wind did blow a pleasant gale,
To fight the French, it was our intent
Through smoke and fire, through smoke and fire
And it was a dark and a gloomy night.

The French were landed on mountains high,
While we poor souls in the valley lie,
"Cheer up, me lads," General Wolfe did say,
"Brave lads of honor, brave lads of honor
Old England she shall win the day."

The very first broadside we gave to them
We wounded a hundred and fifty men,
"Well done, me lads," General Wolfe did say,
"Brave lads of honor, brave lads of honor
Old England she shall win the day."

The very next broadside they gave to us
The've wounded our general in his right breast,
And from his breast, precious blood did flow,
Like any fountain, like any fountain
And all his men were filled with woe.

"Here's a hundred guineas, all in bright gold,
Take it, part it, for my love's quite cold,
And use your men as you did before,
Your soldiers on, your soldiers on
And they will fight forevermore.

"And when to England you do return,
Tell all my friends that I'm dead and gone,
And tell my tender old mother dear
That I am dead, oh, that I am dead, oh,
And never shall see her no more.

From Harmonious Companions, Myers
Transcribed from the singing of the Watersons.

@Canada @war @battle @death
filename[ BRVEWLF2
play.exe BRVEWLF2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRAVE WOLFE or THE BATTLE OF QUEBEC

Bad news is come to town, bad news is carried
Some says my love is dead, others say she's married
As I was a-pond'ring on this, I took to weeping
They stole my love away whist I was sleeping

Love, here's a ring of gold, long years I've kept it
Madame, it's for your sake, will you accept it?
When you the posy read, think on the giver
Madame, remember me, for I'm undone forever

Then away went this brave youth, and embarked all on the ocean
To free Americay was his intention
He landed in Quebec with all his party
The city to attack, being brave and hardy

He drew his armies up in lines so pretty
On the Plains of Abraham back of the city
At a distance from the town where the French would meet him
In double numbers who resolved to beat him

Montcalm and this brave youth together walked
Between two armies they like brothers talked
Till each one took his post and did retire
It was then these numerous hosts commenced to fire

Little did he think death was so near him
...
When shot down from his horse was this our hero
We'll long regret his loss in tears of sorrow

He raised up his head where the cannons did rattle
And to his aide he said, "How goes the battle?"
His aide-de-camp replied, "it's ending in our favor"
"Then," says this brave youth, "I quit this earth with pleasure"

@soldier @war @courting
printed in Traditional American Folksongs by Anne and Frank
  Warner
see also BLAKSMIT
filename[ BRAVWOLF
play.exe BRAVWOLF
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRAW NEWS IS COME TAE TOON

     Braw news is come tae toon,
     Braw news is carried;
     Braw news is come tae toon,
     Jean Tamson's mairried.

     First she gat the fryin-pan,
     Syne she gat the ladle,
     Syne she gat the young man
     Dancin on the table.
     ________________________________________________________

     Montgomerie SC (1948), 71 (No. 92), from Angus, perhaps via
     Chambers PRS (1842; 1847, 256-7; 1870, 118), who gives
     the male version also, with a different second stanza:

        First he gat the kail-pat,
          Syne he gat the ladle,
        Syne he gat [a dainty wean]
          And syne he gat [a] cradle.

     The significance of the bracketed words is unclear; has
C. expurgated something?  The names of course differ in every
version, since a local [and temporal] reference is made.
ODNR (241, no. 270) gives Halliwell's version (1846), featuring
"Jemmy Dawson"; stanza 2, "First he got a porridge-pot,/ Then
he bought a ladle;/ Then he got a wife and child,/ And then
he bought a cradle." The first 2 lines reflect a broadside of
c. 1690, "The Unconstant Maiden", and the folksong "A
blacksmith courted me." [see e.g. FSJ no. 17 (IV.4), 1913,
279; 31 (VIII.1), 1927, 17].  Cf. also "Glasgow Ships"; and
Gomme II.338, "Wallflowers", version from Sussex.

@Scots @kids
filename[ BRAWNEWS
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BREAD AND FISHES
(Alan Bell)

1. As I went a walkin' one mornin' in spring
   I met with some travelers in an old country lane
   One was an old man, the second a maid,
   And the third was a young boy who smiled as he said

Chorus:
   We've the wind in the willows,
   And the birds in the sky,
   We've a bright sun to warm us,
   Where ever we lie.
   We have bread and fishes and a jug of red wine
   To share on our journey with all of mankind.

2. I sat down beside them,
   The flowers all around,
   And we ate on a mantle spread out on the ground
   They told me of prophets and princes and kings
   And they spoke of the one god who knows everything
   We've the ...

3. I asked them to tell me their name and their race
   So I might remember their kindness and grace.
   My name is Joseph, this is Mary my wife
   And this is our young son, our pride and delight
   We travel the whole world, by land and by sea
   To tell all the people how they might be free
   We've the....

4. Sadly, I left them, in an old country lane
   For I knew that I never would see them again
   One was an old man, the second a maid
   And the third was a young boy who smiled as he said
   We've the wind....

@religion
filename[ BRD&FISH
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DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BREAD AND ROSES
(James Oppenheim)

As we go marching, marching, in the beauty of the day,
A million darkened kitchens, a thousand mill lofts gray,
Are touched with all the radiance that a sudden sun discloses,
For the people hear us singing: Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses!

As we go marching, marching, we battle too for men,
For they are women's children, and we mother them again.
Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
Hearts starve as well as bodies; give us bread, but give us roses.

As we go marching, marching, unnumbered women dead
Go crying through our singing their ancient call for bread.
Small art and love and beauty their drudging spirits knew.
Yes, it is bread we fight for, but we fight for roses too.

As we go marching, marching, we bring the greater days,
The rising of the women means the rising of the race.
No more the drudge and idler, ten that toil where one reposes,
But a sharing of life's glories: Bread and roses, bread and roses.

Our lives shall not be sweated from birth until life closes;
hearts starve as well as bodies; bread and roses, bread and roses.


MUSIC: Mimi Farina
1984
@political @mill @work @feminist
filename[ BRD&ROSE
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SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BREAKFAST CAPERS
(by a group, including Rita Ferrarra)

     Too soon to be out of me bed,
     Too soon to be back at this breakfast caper,
     Or fumbling for some toilet paper,
     On a Sunday morning.

     Oh, where have my vocal chords gone?
     How without beer could I get so wasted?
     I'm sure that there's better food I've tasted,
     On a Sunday morning.

     If only they'd start things at noon.
     If only a cold shower wouldn't make me shiver.
     It could have been worse, they could serve us liver,
     On a Sunday morning.

     Oh, where has the weekend gone?
     Oh why did the singing start at midnight?
     And why did we tell ethnic jokes til daylight?
     On a Sunday morning.

filename[ BRKFSTCA
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRENDANS FAIRE ISLE
(Mick Maloney)

When I was a lad on the Emerald isle,
I heard many stories both lovely and wild
About the great dragons and monsters that be,
That swallow the ships as they sail on the sea.
     Tho I was an artist with canvas and paint,
     I sailed with St. Brendan and his jolly saints
     We told the good people goodbye for a while,
     We sailed to St. Brendans Faire Isle, Faire Isle,
     We sailed to St. Brenadns Faire Isle.

We'd been on the ocean for 94 days,
We came to a spot where the sea was ablaze
The demons from Hades were dancin' with glee,
A-burning the sailors alive on the sea
     Then Brendan he walked on the blistering waves,
     He threw all the demons right back to thier cave
     And all of the saints wore a heavenly smile,
     We sailed for...

One night while the brethren were lying asleep,
A great dragon came up from under the deep
He thundered and lightninged and made a great din,
He awakened St. Benadan and all of his men
     The dragon came on with his mouth opened wide,
     We threw in a cross and the great dragon died
     We skinned him and cooked him and feasted a while,
     We sailed...

At last we came unto that beautiful land,
We all went ashore and we walked on the sand
We took our long bows and we killed a zebu,
We roasted it up and had hot barbecue
     And after a while we were singing this sing,
     We noticed the island was moving along
     We ate and we drank and we rode in high style,
     We sailed for St...

Now Brendan he said this is much to my wish,
We ride on the back of the worlds biggest fish
Hold fast to the rope that is pulling the ship,
We'll need it someday if this fish takes a dip
     We sailed every ocean, we sailed every sea,
     We sailed every spot that a sailor can be
     In 44 days we sailed 10 million miles,
     We sailed to ....

@sailor @animal @myth
filename[ BRENDANS
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRENNAN ON THE MOOR

'Tis of a brave young highwayman this story I will tell
His name was Willie Brennan and in Ireland he did dwell
It was on the Kilwood Mountain he commenced his wild career
And many a wealthy nobleman before him shook with fear

  It was Brennan on the moor, Brennan on the moor
  Bold, brave and undaunted was young Brennan on the moor

One day upon the highway as young Willie he went down
He met the mayor of Cashiell a mile outside of town
The mayor he knew his features and he said, Young man, said he
Your name is Willie Brennan, you must come along with me

Now Brennan's wife had gone to town provisions for to buy
And when she saw her Willie she commenced to weep and cry
Said, Hand to me that tenpenny, as soon as Willie spoke
She handed him a blunderbuss from underneath her cloak

Now with this loaded blunderbuss - the truth I will unfold -
He made the mayor to tremble and he robbed him of his gold
One hundred pounds was offered for his apprehension there
So he, with horse and saddle to the mountains did repair

Now Brennan being an outlaw upon the mountains high
With cavalry and infantry to take him they did try
He laughed at them with scorn until at last 'twas said
By a false-hearted woman he was cruelly betrayed

They hanged Brennan at the crossroads, in chains he hung and dried
But still they say that, in the night, some do see him ride
They see him with his blunderbuss, all in the midnight chill
Along, along the King's highway rides Willie Brennan still!

Willie  Brennan was an Irish Robin Hood in the late 1700s in County Cork.
Sung by the Clancy Brothers, Ives, several others

@Irish @outlaw
filename[ BRENMOOR
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRETON LIBERATION SONG

1.  Un alarc'h un alarc'h tra mor (bis)
    War lein tour moal kastel ar vor

cho: Din din daom d'an emgann d'an emgan oh
     Din din daom d'an emgann ezan

2.  Neventi vat d'ar vretoned
    Ha molloz ru d'ar hallaowed

3.  Erru ul lestr e pleg armor
    E weliou gwenn gant an digor

4.  Digouet an ao trou yann endro
    Digouet e da ziwall e vro

5.  Enor enor ar gwe-ha-du
    Ha d'ar Francizien malloz ru.
(Trans:)
A swan from across the sea to save the ancient castle of Armor
I too will go to battle, I too will go to fight!
Good news to the Bretons and a red curse to the French!

A boat has come from the sea, its white sails unfurled
Lord Jean has returned (!) to defend (!!) his (!!!) country
Long live the black and white flag and to the French, the red curse!

from the 15th century, when Jean duc of Brittany roused the people
to fight the French.  He came from Wales.  This was the marching song
of his armies--50 years later the French defeated the Bretons (sezzoo?)
(according to the ancient pyramidic scrolls of the wassiname.) JB

@Breton @battle
filename[ BRTNLIB
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BREWER LAD

In Perth there lived a bonnie lad
A brewer tae his trade, O
And he has courted Peggy Roy,
A young and handsome maid, O.

cho: Wi' a fal dal diddle um a die dum doo,
     Wi' a fal dal diddle um a die do.

He courted her for seiven lang years,
A' for to gain her favour;
But there cam' a lad oot o' Edinburgh toon,
Wha swore that he would have her.

"It's will ye gang alang wi' me,
And will ye be my honey;
It's will ye gang alang wi' me,
And leave your brewer laddie?"
"Oh, I will gang alang wi' you,
And alang wi' you I'll ride, O;
I'll gang wi' you to the ends o' the earth,
Tho' I'm spoke to the brewer lad, O."

The brewer he cam' hame at e'en,
A'speirin' for his honey;
Her faither he made this reply:
"She's no' been here since Monday."

Oh, wasna that an unco ploy,
Wouldna' anyone been offended?
To court wi' a lad for seiven years
And leave him at the end o't.

"Oh, be it so and let her go,
For it shall never grieve me;
I'm a lad that's free, as you can see,
And a sma' thing will relieve me. "

"There's as guid fish intae the sea,
As ever yet was taken;
I'll cast my net and try again,
Although l am forsaken."

She's rambled up, she's rambled doon,
She's rambled through Kirkcaldie,
And mony's the time she's rued the day,
She jilted her brewer laddie.

He's ta'en his course and away he's gane,
The country he has fled, O;
And he's left nae sark upon her back,
Nor blanket on her bed, O.

The brewer lad set up in Perth,
And there he brews strong ale, O;
And he has courted anither lass,
And ta'en her tae himsel', O.

Ye lovers a', where'er ye be,
Just let this be a warning;
And never slight your ain true love,
For fear ye get a waur ane.

From Songs and Dances of Scotland, Thomson
@Scots @courting  @infidelity
filename[ BREWRLAD
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRIDGE OVER TROUBLED WATERS

(C) C F C / F C F G7 C Am C / C G C G G7 C Am
    C F D G / C G F G7 C Am F E Am

When you're weary, Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all
I'm on your side when times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down

When you're down and out, when you're on the street
When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you
I'll take your part when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down

Sail on silver girl, sail on by
Your time has come to shine all your dreams are on their way
See how they shine, if you need a friend, I'm sailing right
  behind
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind
Like a bridge over troubled water, I will ease your mind

----------------------------------------------------------------

Words and music by Paul Simon, copyright 1967 by the author.

Recorded on Songs of Paul Simon, Bridge over Troubled Waters, and
Greatest Hits.
@love
filename[ BRIDTRBL
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRIDGET AND THE PILL
(Brian Pearson)

Bridget O'Reilly was a fine looking girl
Well, her skin was like ivory and her teeth shone like pearls
The fellas all chased her in vain til one day
She went and got married to Barney O'Shea

They'd been married a year, when to their pride and joy
Along came a baby, a fine strapping boy
When three years had past, they'd two boys and a girl
How to feed them and clothe them made Bridget's head whirl

Bridget went to the priest, she was near desperation
Because of this process of constant gestation
O Father, this business is making me ill
Would it be a sin if I took to the Pill?

The priest heard her story and when he had heard it
To higher authorities, perplexed, he referred it
The bishops were baffled, the cardinals too
Not one could tell Bridget just what she should do

Two years they debated with holy profundity
What should be done about Bridget's fecundity
For now Bridget's children amounted to five
And she scarcely was able to keep them alive

They gave due attention to points theological
Points philosophic and physiological
Til in desperation, the Pope cried, o sod
There's just one thing to do, I'd best go and ask God

So the Pope sent a letter by five penny post
On Papal notepaper, addressed, Holy Ghost
Come send me an answer in double quick time
You can reach me at home, just ring VAT 69

The Pope got his answer and then he announced it
Oral contraception, he thoroughly denounced it
All chemical means to prevent procreation
Are banned on the pain or eternal damnation

If we were to allow it, unashamed fornication
Would spread like a flash to all parts of the nation
There'd be plagues, fire, and famine and moral pollution
Atheistical notions and red revolution

And the Lord knows what women would do with their lives
If they weren't kept so busy as mothers and wives
They might get ideas not befitting their station
And wind up in women's or gay liberation

So Bridget, my dear, there's no need for frustration
Because of the banning of this medication
The Church, she is merciful, holy, and gracious
Surely the old rhythm method you'll find efficacious

Away now, said Bridget, I'll have none of your row
For I tried it before and just look at me now
Whatever I did, we continued to breed
And she's off to the chemists with maximum speed

Now the Church is in ferment, in great trepidation
Lest such thought should spread to the whole congregation
And they've issued a record to prevent a schism
By the Pope and the Hierarchy, called, I've got rhythm

Recorded by Frankie Armstrong - Out Of Love
@sex @feminist @medicine
filename[ BRIDPILL
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRIDGET FLYNN

I've a nice little house and a cow or two with grass
I've a plant garden running by my door
I've a shelter for the hens and a stable for the ass
Now what could a man want more?

I don't know, maybe so
But a bachelor's life is easy and it's free
I'm the last to complain, but I'm living all alone
Sure nobody's looking after me

Me father often tells me I should go and have a try
To find a girl that owns a bit of land
And I know the way he says it, there is someone on his mind
And my mother has the whole thing planned

I don't know, maybe so
It would mollify them so to agree
Now there's little Bridget Flynn, sure its her I'd like to win
But she never has an eye for me

Now there's a little girl who is worth her weight in gold
And that's a decent dowry, don't you see
And I mean to go and ask her just as soon as I get home
If she'll come and have an eye for me

Will she go, I don't know
But I'd love to have her sitting on my knee
And I'd sing like a thrush in the hawthorn bush
If she'd come and have an eye for me

@Irish @courting
recorded by the Irish Rovers
filename[ BRIDFLYN
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRIGHT COLLEGE DAYS
(Tom Lehrer)

Bright college days, oh, carefree days that fly,
To thee we sing with our glasses raised on high.
Let's drink a toast as each of us recalls
Ivy--covered professors in ivy--covered halls.
Turn on the spigot,
Pour the beer and swig it,
And gaudeamus igit--ur.

Here's to parties we tossed, to the games that we lost
(We shall claim that we won them someday),
To the girls, young and sweet, to the spacious back seat
Of our roommate's beat up Chevrolet,
To the beer and benzedrine, to the way that the dean
Tried so hard to be pals with us all,
To excuses we fibbed, to the papers we cribbed
From the genius who lived down the hall,
To the tables down at Maury's (wherever that may be),
Let us drink a toast to all we love the best.
We will sleep through all the lectures,
And cheat on the exams.
And we'll pass and be forgotten with the rest.

Oh, soon we'll be out amid the cold world's strife.
Soon we'll be sliding down the razor blade of life....
But as we go our sordid separate ways,
We shall never forget thee, thou golden college days.
Hearts full of youth,
Hearts full of truth,
Six parts gin to one part vermouth.

@school
copyright Tom Lehrer
filename[ BRTCOLLG
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRIGHT MORNING STARS

Bright morning stars are rising,
Bright morning stars are rising,
!&Bright morning stars are rising,
Day is a-breaking in my soul.

Oh, where are our dear mothers, (3X)
Day is a-breaking in my soul.

They are down in the valley praying, (3X}
Day is a-breaking in my soul.

Oh where are our dear fathers, (3X)
Day is a-breaking in my soul.

They have gone to heaven shouting, (3X)
Day is a-breaking in my soul.

Bright morning stars are rising,(3X)
Day is a-breaking in my soul.

@religion  @harmony
filename[ BRTMORNS
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRING 'EM DOWN
(Trevor Lucas)

Time stood dark and silent and the stars they gave no light
I wandered in an endless dream, haunted by the night
I saw four ghostly riders, the horses in a line
Each in turn did point at me and say I'm on full *rein*

We are the sculptors of the land, the rulers of the sea
We are the falcons of your sins, gardeners of the trees
The air about you is burning and the sea below does drown
And the legacy you leave your *swan* will surely bring 'em down

Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down
Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down

A curse upon you men of war, with gun or pen in hand
The *power sword or one o'erboard*, the castles made of sand
You always have good reason to take more than you need
Your hearts are full of paper and your minds are full of greed
Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down
Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down

What is deeper than the ocean, colder than the grave
Stronger than your armies all and braver than the brave?
Those who know and *knowing know* will sow on fertile ground
Those who don't and never would are those you will go down

Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down
Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down    Bring 'em down

Copyright Warlock Music
Recorded by Fairport Convention on Nine
filename[ BRINGDWN
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRING BACK MY JOHNNY TO ME

He's gone, I am now sad and lonely
He's left me to plough the salt sea
I know that he thinks of me only
And will soon be returning to me

  Some say that my love is returning
  To his own native country and me
  Blow gently the winds of the ocean
  And bring back my Johnny to me

He's gone his fortunes to better
I know that he's gone for my sake
And I'll soon be receiving a letter
Or else my poor heart it will break

Last night as I lay on my pillow
My bosom it heaved with a sigh
As I thought one each angry billow
While watching the clouds in the sky

collected from Cecilia Kelly Costello
@love @travel
filename[ BRINGJON
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRING ME LITTLE WATER, SYLVIE

Bring me little water, Sylvie
Bring me little water, now
Bring me little water, Sylvie
Every little once in a while

Don't you see me coming?
Don't you see me, now?
Don't you see me coming?
Every little once in a while

Sung by Leadbelly
filename[ WATRSYLV
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRING US A BARREL
(Keith Marsden)

We don't want to drink our Ale from a pin
Because there's too little stuff within.
Four and a half is each measure in full,
Too small for our sup; not enough for us all,

So bring us a barrel, and set it up right,
Bring us a barrel to last out the night,
Bring us a barrel, no matter how high,
We'll drink it up lads, we'll drink it dry.

The poor little firkins, nine gallons in all,
Though the ale, it is good, the size is too small
For lads that are drinkers, like you and like I,
That firkin small barrel will quickly run dry,

And when I am dying and on my death bed,
By my bedside leave a fine full hogshead,
And if down below I must go when I die,
Then me and Old Nick, we can both drink it dry,

So roll out your puncheon\* and bring us the butt,
There are the measures before us to put,
And pass your mug round and good ale, it will flow,
And we'll be content for an hour or so,

\*111.6 gallons

Copyright Keith Marsden
@drink
filename[ BRNGBARL
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRING US GOOD ALE

Chorus:
     Bring us in good ale, good ale, and bring us in good ale,
     For our blessed Lady's sake, bring us in good ale.

Bring us in no brown bread, for that is made of bran,
Nor bring us in no white bread, for therein is no grain,
    But bring, etc.

Bring us in no beef, for there is many bones,
But bring us in good ale, for that go'th down at once.
    And bring, etc.

Bring us in no bacon, for that is passing fat,
But bring us in good ale, and give us enough of that.
     And bring, etc.

Bring us in no mutton, for that is passing lean,
Nor bring us in no tripes, for they be seldom clean.
     But bring, etc.

Bring us in no eggs, for there are many shells,
But bring us in good ale, and give us nothing else.
     But bring, etc.

Bring us in no butter, for therein are many hairs,
Nor bring us in no pig's flesh for that will make us bears.
     But bring, etc.

Bring us in no puddings, for therein is all God's good,
Nor bring us in no venison, that is not for our blood.
     But bring, etc.

Bring us in no capon's flesh, for that is often dear,
Nor bring us in no duck's flesh, for they slobber in the mere (mire)
     But bring, etc.

From Chapell, Popular Music of the Olden Time
Song from about 1460.
Recorded by Hart & Prior on Summer Solstice
@drink @food
filename[ BRINGALE
play.exe BRINGALE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRING `EM DOWN

In Liverpool I was born!
     Bring `em down,
London is me home from home!
     Bring `em down!

Them Rotherhite girls, they look so fine,
They're never a day  behind their time!

It's around Cape Horn we go,
All through the ice and snow!

Up the coast to Vallipo,
Northward to Callao

Them Vallipo girls I do admire,
They set your riggin' all afire!

Them Vallipo girls puts on a show,
They waggles their arse with a roll and go!

It's back again to Liverpool,
I spent me pay like a bloody fool!

I'm Liverpool born and Liverpool bred,
Long in the arm and thick in the head!

Rock and roll me over, boys,
Let's get this damn job over, boys!

Recorded by Killen, LLoyd.
@sailor
filename[ BRNGMDWN
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRINGING IN THE SHEAVES

Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness
Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve
Waiting for the harvest and the time of reaping
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves

  Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves
  We shall come rejoicing bringing in the sheaves
  Bringing in the sheaves, bringing in the sheaves
  We shall come rejoicing bringing in the sheaves

Sowing in the sunshine, sowing in the shadows
Fearing neither clouds nor winter's chilling breeze
By and by the harvest and the labored end
We shall come rejoicing bringing in the sheaves

Going forth with weeping, sowing for the master
Tho' the loss sustains our spirit often grieves
When our weeping's over, He will bid us welcome
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves

words by Rev. Knowles Shaw (1834-1878)
Tune by George Minor
@hymn @farm    @religion
filename[ BRINGSHV
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRISBANE LADIES (Queensland Drovers) (Farewell and Adieu)
(Saul Mendelsohn)

Farewell and adieu to you, Brisbane ladies
Farewell and adieu, you maids of Toowong
We've sold all our cattle and we have to get a movin'
But we hope we shall see you again before long.

cho: We'll rant and we'll roar like true Queensland drovers
     We'll rant and we'll roar as onward we push
     Until we return to the Augathella station
     Oh, it's flamin' dry goin' through the old Queensland bush.

The first camp we make, we shall call it the Quart Pot,
Calboolture, then Kilcoy, and Collington's Hut,
We'll pull up at the stone house, Bob Williamson's paddock,
And early next morning we cross the Blackbutt.

Then on to Taromeo and Yarraman Creek, lads,
It's there we shall make our next camp for the day
Where the water and grass are both plenty and sweet, lads,
And maybe we'll butcher a fat little stray.

Then on to Nanango, that hard-bitten township
Where the out-of-work station-hands shit in the dust,
Where the shearers get shorn by old Tim, the contractor
Oh, I wouldn't go near there, but I flaming well must!


The girls of Toomancie they look so entrancing
Like bawling young heifers they're out for their fun
With the waltz and the polka and all kinds of dancing
To the rackety old banjo of Bob Anderson.

Then fill up your glasses, and drink to the lasses,
We'll drink this town dry, then farewell to them all
And when we've got back to the Augathella Station,
We hope you'll come by there and pay us a call.



Written by Saul Mendelsohn, printed as a broadside.
     repr. Queensland Boomerang, 1891. In most Australian
     collections; cf. "Spanish Ladies"

Tune: Spanish Ladies (minor version)
also see CUSONG
@Australia
sung by Hoyt Axton
filename[ QUNSLAND
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===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRISK BUTCHER

It's of a brisk young butcher as I have heard them say
He started out of London town all on a certain day
Says he "A frolic I will have, my fortune for to try
I will go into Leicestershire some cattle for to buy"

When he arrived at Leicester town he came into an inn
He called for an hostler and boldly he stepped in
He called for liquor of the best, he being a roving blade
And quickly fixed his eyes upon the lovely chambermaid

When she took up a candle to light him up to bed
And when she came into the room, these words to her he said:
"One sovereign I will give to you all to enjoy your charms"
And this fair maid all night to sleep all in the butcher's arms

'Twas early the next morning he prepared to go away
The landlord said "Your reckoning, sir, you have forgot to pay"
"Oh no", the butcher did reply "pray do not think it strange
A sovereign I gave your maid and I haven't got the change"

They straight way called the chambermaid and charged her with the same
The golden sovereign she laid down, prepared she'd get the blame
The butcher then went home, well pleased with what was passed
And soon this pretty chambermaid grew thick about the waist

'Twas in a twelve months after he came to town again
And then as he had done before he stopped at that same inn
'Twas then the buxom chambermaid she chanced him for to see
She brought a babe just three months old and placed him on his knee

The butcher sat like one amazed and at the child did stare
But when the joke he did find out, how he did stamp and swear
She said "Kind sir, it is your own, pray do not think it strange
One sovereign you gave to me and here I've brought your change"

So come all you brisk and lively blades I pray be ruled by me
Look well into your bargains before your money pay
Or soon perhaps your folly will give you cause to range
If ever you sport with pretty girls be sure to get your change

----------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Tim Hart & Maddy Prior on "Folk Songs Of Olde England Vol.1" (1968)

By any standards, this butcher is a nasty sort of guy.

See also XMASGOOS
@baby @sex @bawdy @trick
filename[ XMASGOO2
play.exe XMASGOO2
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRISK YOUNG LAD

And oh but he was a brisk young lad
A brisk young lad and a bra young lad
Oh but he was a bra young lad
Come seekin' me tae woo

There come a young lad te my daddy's door
My daddy's door, my daddy's door
There come a young lad te my daddy's door
Come seekin' meety woo

And I was peekin' when he come
When he come, oh when he come
I took him in then I ga'im a scone
Te thaw his frozen moo'

Well I sat him doon beside the bank
I ga' im mil' and ale for to drink
But ne'er a place thine were de plank
Before the wain was foo

Well go your way ya cold right world
Ya silly lookin' cold right world
A straight way showed him te the door
Sayin' come te me tae woo

Well the lad jumped up a'fore the door
A'fore the door, a'fore the door
Well the lad jumped up a'fore the door
And there he tripped and fell

And oot came the old man and 'ow did he look
And oot came the old wife 'ow did she shout
Another two neighbors were ga'up the bout
And there he lay, it's true

And it's oot came I wi'a sneer and a smile
I said young man, you're all beguiled
You come here to woo, now you're all defiled
And will hae ne' near or you

@Scots @courting
filename[ BRISKLAD
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRISK YOUNG WIDOW

In Chester town there lived a brisk young widow
For beauty and fine clothes none could excel her
She was proper, stout and tall, her fingers long and small
She's a comely dame withall, she's a brisk young widow

So a lover soon there came, a brisk young farmer
With his hat turned up all round, thinking to gain her
"My dear for love of you, this wide world I'll go through
If you will but prove true, you shall wed a farmer"

Says she "I'm not for you, nor no such fellow
I'm for some lively lad with lots of riches
It's not your hogs and yows can maintain furbelows
My silk and satin clothes they're all me glory"

"Madam, don't be coy for all your glory
For fear of another day and another story
If the world on you should frown, your topknot must come down
To a linsey-woolsey gown, where is then your glory ?"

And at last there came that way a sooty collier
With his hat bent down all round he soon did gain her
Whereat that farmer swore "Nay, widow's 'mazed I'm sure
I'll never court no more with a brisk young widow"

----------------------------------------------------------
recorded by The Young Tradition on "Galleries" (1968) and
by Peter Bellamy on "Voices. Traditional English Folk Songs" (1991)

collected by Cecil Sharp
@courting @farm
filename[ BRSKWIDW
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRITAIN'S MOTORWAYS
(Ewan MacColl)

Come, me little son, and
I will tell you what we'll do
Undress yourself, get into bed
And a tale I'll tell to you
It's all about your daddy
He's a man you seldom see
He's had to roam, far away from home
Away from you and me

But remember lad, he's still your dad
'Though he's working far away
In the cold and heat, eighty hours a week
On England's motorways

When you fall and hurt yourself
And wake up feeling bad
It isn't any use to go
A running for your dad
For the only time since you were born
He's had to stay with you
He was out of a job and we hadn't a bob
He was signing on the broo

But remember lad, he's still your dad
And he really earns his pay
Working day and night upon the site
Of England's motorway

To buy your shoes your daddy built
A length of railroad track
He built a hydro-dam to buy
The clothes upon your back
This motor highway buys our food
But the wages soon are spent
And though we have to live apart
It helps to pay the rent
But remember lad, he's still your dad
And he's toiling every day
But there';s food to be had and it's thanks to your dad
On England's motorway

Sure we need your daddy here and
Sure it would be fine
To have him working nearer home
And to see him all the time
But beggars can't be choosers and
We have to bear our load
For we need the money your daddy earns
On England's motorways

So remember lad, he's still your dad
And he'll soon be here to stay
For a week or two with me and you
When he's built the motorway

@industry @work
by Ewan MacColl c1961
Copyright Sing Out
written for BBC "Song of a Road"
recorded by Ewan MacColl
filename[ ENGLMOTR
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SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BRITISH GRENADIERS

Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules
Of Hector and Lysander, and such great names as these.
But of all the world's great heroes, there's none that can compare
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, to the British Grenadier.
     (last 2 lines of each verse can be repeated as chorus.)

Those heroes of antiquity ne'er saw a cannon ball
Or knew the force of poweder to slay their foes withal.
But our brave boys do know it, and banish all their fears,
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadier.

Whene'er we are commanded to storm the palisades
Our leaders march with fusees, and we with hand grenades.
We throw them from the glacis, about the enemies' ears.
Sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.

And when the siege is over, we to the town repair
The townsmen cry, "Hurra, boys, here comes a Grenadier!
Here come the Grenadiers, my boys, who know no doubts or fears!
Then sing tow, row, row, row, row, row, the British Grenadiers.

Then let us fill a bumper, and drink a health to those
Who carry caps and pouches, and wear the louped clothes.
May they and their commanders live happy all their years
With a tow, row, row, row, row, row, for the British Grenadiers.

From Popular Music of the Olden Times, Chappell
Note: Chappelle thought it's Elizabethan, but he wasn't sure. It was
     popular at least in the early 18th Century. RG

@English @soldier
filename[ BRITGREN
play.exe BRITGREN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROKEN HEARTED I WANDERED

     1.
     Broken hearted I wandered,
     For the loss of my true lover,
     He's a jolly, jolly horseman,
     In the battle he was slain.

     He had but one sixpence,
     And he broke it in two,
     And he gave to me the half o't
     Before he went away.

     He wrote me a letter
     In the month of November,
     And he told me not to worry
     As he was coming home.

     2.
     Broken-hearted we parted
     At the loss of my beloved
     He was a jolly sailor
     And in battle he was killed.

     He had a silver sixpence
     And he broke it in two
     And he gave me the one half
     Before he went away.

     He wrote me a letter
     And sealed it with his hands
     And he told me not to worry
     For he was coming home.

     Oh were I an angel
     And had I wings that I might fly
     I'd go to yonder valley
     Where my beloved lies.

     3.
     Broken-hearted I wander,
     At the loss of my brother;
     He's a jolly, jolly fellow,
     At the battle he was slain;
     He had a silver sixpence,
     And he broke it in twae,
     And he gave me the half o't
     Before he went away.
     If I were an angel
     I would fly to the skies,
     And far beyond the mountains
     Where my dear brother lies.
     ________________________________________________________

     (1) Skipping song; MacColl, Streets of Song, no. 24. "Both
     feet together and turning a half circle at each skip.
     Learned in Glasgow as a child.  The song is also used
     for a ring game in Scotland."
Ritchie Singing Street (1964), 29, has a version from
Edinburgh, c. 1918, very close to this.  Differs: 1.2 At the
loss of my beloved: 1.3 soldier 1.4 And to battle he must go.
2.1 He gave me a silver sixpence [And an addendum:] Sweet
home/ Marrow bone/ Treacle scone/ Ice-cream cone/ Uncle John!
     (2) Ritchie op. cit.,95.
     (3) Rymour Club Misc. I (1906-11), 148, from Gorgie
     Public School, Edinburgh. The music "is evidently an
     adaptation of `Hallelujah to the Lamb'."

@love @playparty
filename[ BONLGHT2
play.exe BONLGHT
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROKEN TOKEN

As I walked out one bright May moning
A fair young lady I chanced to see
I asked her if she had a sweetheart
And this reply she gave to me

"It's seven long years since I had a sweetheart
It's seven long years since I did him see
And seven more I will wiat upon him
Till he returns for to marry me"

"I don't know how you can love a sailor
I don't know how you can love a slave
Perhaps he's married or else he's buried
Or lying in his cold watery grave"

"Well, if he's married, I wish him happy
And if he's buried I wish him rest
But for his sake I will never marry
For he's the young man that I love best"

He put his hand into his pocket
His fingers being so long and thin
Pulled out a ring that was bent and broken
And when she's seen it then she fell

He lifted her into his arms
He gave her kisses three by three
Sayin' "Who am I but your only sailor boy
Just returned for to marry you"

----------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Cyril Tawney on "Voices. Traditional English Songs" (1991)

"Broken Token Ballads abound in the English tradition. The general idea
is that the lovers divide a 'token' (usually a ring) when they part
(he usually goes off to foreign parts as a soldier or sailor) and agree
to be faithful. He later returns, but she does not recognise him at first,
etc. etc. Cyril learnt this version in his native West Country from his
mother and this goes to show how difficult it is to regionalise folk
songs because she learnt it from her Grandmother, Mary Sharkey, in
Northern Ireland!" - Paul Adams

@brokentoken @love @ring @sailor
filename[ BROKTOKN
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BROKEN TOKEN

A fair little miss aall in the garden,
And a brave young soldier came a-passing by;
And up he stepped and thus he addressed her,
Says "My pretty little miss, won't you marry me?"

She says: "No, kind sir, a man of honour,
A man of honour you may be,
But how can you impose on a fair lady
Who never intends your bride to be?"

"I 've got a true love been gone to the ocean,
He's been there for seven years long
And if he stays seven years longer,
No man on earth will marry me."

"Perhaps he's in the sea-side drownded,
Or perhaps he's in some battle slain,
Or perhaps he's took some other girl and married
His face you'll never see again."

"If he's drownded I'm in hopes he's happy,
Or if he's in some battle slain,
Or perhaps he's took some other and married,
I'll love that girl that would have married him."

He run his hands all in his pocket
His fingers being long and slim,
Says: "Here's a ring that you did give me
Before I started to the sea."

She wrung her lily-white hands and cried,
And straight before him she did fall,
Says: "You are the man that used to court me
Before you started to the sea."

note: I like the utter selflessness of the young lady; I also
          like the thought of a happy drowning. RG
From English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians, Sharp
     Collected from Mary Sands, NC, 1916
filename[ BRKNTOKN
play.exe BRKNTOKN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BROOKLYN THEATER FIRE

In the evening bright stars they were shining,
And the moon it shone clear on the land.
Our city in peace and in quiet;
The hour of midnight at hand.

Hark, do you hear the cry, "Fire"?
How dismal the bells they do sound.
The Brooklyn Theater is burning,
It's fast burning down to the ground.

We never can forget those two orphans.
Bad luck seemed to stand in their way.
It seems they were brought to our city,
The lives of our dear friends to take.

The doors they were open at seven.
The curtains were rolled up at eight.
And those that had seats, they were happy.
Outsiders were mad they were late.

The play it went on very smoothly
'Til sparks from the curtain did fly
It was then the women and chlldren,
"Oh God, save our lives," they did cry.

Next morning among the black ruins,
Oh God, what a sight met our eyes!
The dead they were lying in heaps
And some could not be recognized.

Mothers were weeping and crying
For sons who were out on that night.
Oh God, may their souls rest in heaven,
All those who were innocent and bright.

What means this large gathering of people
Upon such a cold winter day?
What means this long line of hearses
That gather in their mournful array?

It's away to the cemetery of Greenwood
Where the winds of the cold winter blow
It's there where the funeral is going
The dead and unknown for to lie.

From Folk Songs Out of Wisconson, Peters
Collected from Lester Coffee, Harvard, IL, 1946.

Note: Commemorates a fire in a New York theater in 1876 in
   which 295 theatergoers died.
@fire @death @disaster
filename[ BRKLYNFR
play.exe BRKLYNFR
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROOM OF THE COWDENKNOWES

How blithe each morn was I tae see
My lass came o'er the hill
She skipped the burn and ran tae me

     O the broom, the bonnie, bonnie broom
     The broom o the cowdenknowes
     Fain would I be in the north country
     Herding her father's ewes

We neither herded ewes nor lamb
While the flock near us lay
She gathered in the sheep at night
And cheered me all the day

Hard fate that I should banished be
Gone way o'er hill and moor
Because I loved the fairest lass
That ever yet was born

Adieu, ye cowdenknowes, adieu
Farewell all pleasures there
To wonder by her side again
Is all I crave or care

_____
Sing Out.  17th Century Scottish. Child #217
Recorded by Clutha- Bonny Mildams, Silly Wizard
@Scots @love @plant  @animal
note: Alternate tune COWDENKN.2 is the older version: from Orpheus
     Caledoneus, Thomson (1733)
filename[ COWDENKN
play.exe COWDENKN
play.exe COWDENKN.2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROOMFIELD WAGER

There was a knight and a lady bright
Set trysts amang the broom,
The ane to come at morning ear,
The other at afternoon.

I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager wi' you
Five  hundred merks and ten
That a maid shall gae to the merry broom fields
And a maid return again.

The maid she sat at her mother's bower door
And aye she made her moan:
'O, whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill
Or should I stay at home?'

Up then spake an auld witch-wife
Sat in the bower abune,
'O,  ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill
And safe return again.

'For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill
Ye'll find your love asleep,
Wi' a silver belt above his head
And a broom branch at his feet.

'Tak' ye the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew't at his head and feet,
And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
The sounder he will sleep.

'Tak' ye the rings aff your fingers
And put them on his own
To let him know when he does wake
His love had been and gone.'

Lord John has ta'en his milk-white steed
And his hawk wi' his bells sae bright,
And he's ridden swift to the Broomfield Hill
Was never a bolder knight.

She kilted up her petticoats,
Likewise her silken gown,
Until she came to the merry broom fields
She never let them down.

When she came to the Broomfield Hill,
She found her true love asleep
With his gay goshawk and his silk-string bows
And a green broom under his feet.

She's pu'ed the blossom off the broom,
Saying, 'O, but it smells sweet,'
She put the broom in under his head
She's ta'en from under his feet.

When she did what the auld witch-wife had
She cunningly stole away,
And derned herself behind the broom
To hear what her true love would say.

'My curse light on you, gay goshawk,
And an ill death may you dee,
That wadna watch and waken
When my true love was with me.'

I clapped wi' my wings, master,
And aye my bells I rang,
And aye cried, 'Waken, waken, master,
Before the ladye gang.'

But haste, but haste, my gude white steed
To come the maiden till,
Or a' the birds of the gude greenwood
O your flesh shall have their fill.

Ye needna burst your gude white steed
Wi' racing o'er the  howm.'
Nae bird flies faster thro' the wood
Than she fled frae the broom.

Child #43
From Sam Henry, Songs of the People
filename[ BROMFLD2
play.exe BROMFLD2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROOMFIELD WAGER

There was a knight and lady bright
Set trysts amo the broom,
The one to come at morning ear,
The other at afternoon.

"I'll wager a wager wi' you," he said,
An hundred merks and ten,
That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills
Return a maiden again."

"I'll wager a wager wi' you," she said,
"A hundred pounds and ten,
That I will gang to Broomfield Hills
A maiden return again."

The lady stands in her bower door,
And thus she made her mane:
"O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,
Or shall I stay at hame?

"If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,
A maid I'll not return;
But if I stay from Broomfield Hills.
I'll be a maid mis-sworn."

Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,
Sat in the bower aboon:
"O, ye shall gang to the Broomfield Hills,
Ye shall not stay at hame.

"When ye gang to Broomfield Hills,
Walk nine times round and round;
Down below a bonny burn bank
Ye'll find your love sleeping sound.

Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew't at his head and feet,
And aye the thicker that ye do strew
The sounder he will sleep

"The broach that is on your napkin,
Put it on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That's true love's come and gane.

"The rings that are on your fingers,
Lay them down on a stane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That's true love's'come and gane.

"And when ye hae your work all done,
Ye'll gang to a bush o' broom,
And then you'll hear what he will say,
When he sees ye are gane."

When she came to Broomfield Hills,
She walkd it nine times round,
And down below yon burn bank,
She found him sleeping sound.

She pu'd the bloom frae aff the broom,
Streu-'d it at's head and feet.
And aye the thicker that she strewd,
The sounder he did sleep.

The broach that was on her napkin
She put on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

The rings that were on her fingers,
She laid upon a stane,
To let him know when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

Now when she had her work all dune,
She went to a bush o' broom,
That she might hear what he did say,
When he saw she was gane.

"O where were ye, my guid grey hound,
That I paid for sae dear,
Ye didna waken me frae my sleep
When my true love was sae near?"

"I scraped wi my foot, master,
Till a' my collars rang,
But still the mair that I did scrape,
Waken woud ye nane."

"Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep
When my love was sae near?"

"I patted wi my foot, master,
Till a' my bridles rang,
But still the mair that I did pat,
Waken woud ye nane."

"O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep
When ye saw my love near?"

"I flapped wi' my wings, master,
Till a' my bells they rang,
But still the mair that I did flap,
Waken woud ye nane."

"O where were ye, my merry young men
That I pay meat and fee,
Ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep
When my love ye did see?"

"Ye'll sleep mair on the night, master,
And wake mair on the day;
Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills
When ye've sic pranks to play.

"If I had seen any armed men
Come riding over the hill
But I saw but a fair lady
Come quietly you until."

"O wae mat worth you, my young men
That I pay meat and fee,
That ye woudna waken me frae sleep
When ye my love did see.

"O had I waked when she was nigh,
And o her got my will,
I shoudna cared upon the morn
Tho sma birds o her were fill."

When she went out, right bitter wept,
But singing came she hame;
Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,
And maid returnd again.

Child #43
Child's version C, from Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland
@witch @love @talkbird
filename[ BROMFLD3
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROOMFIELD WAGER

A wager, a wager, a wager I'll lay you
I'll lay you five thousands to your one
That a maiden I will go to the merry broom field
And a maiden I'm sure I will return
  (repeat last two lines)
  Hold the wheel

And then did this young maid get on a bay hobby's back
All for to ride to that green broom, that green broom
And when she got there, she found her own true love
Lying in that merry green broom fast asleep

Nine times did she walk round the crown of his head
Nine times round the soles of his feet
Nine times did she say, awake, master
For your own true love is standing nearby

And when she had done all that she dare do
She stepped behind that bunch of green broom, that green broom
All for to hear what her own true love would say
When he awoke out of his domestic sleep

He said, If I had been awake, instead of being asleep
My will I would have done toward thee
Your blood, it would have been spilled, for those small birds to drink
And your flesh it would have been for their food

You hard-hearted young man, how can you say so?
Your heart it must be hard as any stone
For to murder the one who loved you so well
Far better than the ground that you stand on

Nine times of this bell did I ring, master
Nine times of this whip did I crack
Nine times did I say, Awake, Master
For your own true love is standing nearby

Child #43
Recorded by Roberts & Barrand --Dark Ships etc., Frankie
     Armstrong - Female Frolic
@magic
filename[ BROOMFLD
play.exe BROOMFLD
play.exe BROMFLD1
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROTHER NOAH

Brther Noah, Brother Noah,
May I come into the Ark of the Lord?
For it's growing very dark and it's raining very hard
     Halleloo, halleloo, halleloo-oo-oo-oo-ia

No, you can't sir, no, you can't, sir,
  You can't come into the ark of the Lord
Though it's growing very dark and it's raiug very hard.
     Halleloo, halleloo, halleloo-oo-oo-oo-ia

Very well, sir, very well, sir,
  You can go to the dickens with your darned old scow,
'Cause it ain't goin'to rain very hard no how.
     Halleloo, halleloo, halleloo-oo-oo-oo-ia

That's a lie, sir, that's a lie, sir,
  You can darn soon tell that it ain't no sell
'Cause it's sprinklin' now, and it's gonna rain like hell.
     Halleloo, halleloo, halleloo-oo-oo-oo-ia

From My Pious Friends and Drunken Companions, Shay
Variation recorded by Van Ronk
@religion @camp
filename[ BRONOAH
play.exe BRONOAH
AJS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROTHER, CAN YOU SPARE A DIME?
(E.Y. Harburg and J. Gorney)

Once I built a railroad, I made it run
I made it race against time
Once I built a railroad, now it's done
Brother, can you spare a dime?

Once I built a tower, up to the sun
Bricks & mortar & lime
Once I built a tower, now it's done
Brother...

(bridge)   Once in khaki suits, gee we looked swell
           Full of that Yankee-Doodly-duni
           Half a million boots went slogging through Hell
           And I was the kid with the drum

Say, don't you remember, you called me "Al"
It was  "Al" all the time
Say don't you remember, I was your pal
Brother...

Copyright Warner Bros., Inc
@war @poverty @work
filename[ BRODIME
play.exe BRODIME
DC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BROWN AND YELLOW EARL

As I was going down the road one fine day, O
        O, the brown and yellow earl
I met with a man who was no right man
        O, love of my heart

(similarly):

He asked me was the woman with me my daughter
And I said that she was my married wife.

He asked me would I lend her for an hour and a day, O
And I said I would do anything that was fair.

So you take the upper road and I'll take the lower
And I'll meet you again by the bank of the river.
I was going that way one hour and a day, O
When she came to me without any shame.

When I heard her news, I lay down and I died, O
And they sent three men to the woods for timber.

A board of holly and a board of elder
And three great yards of cloth about me.

Me own dear mother, she was a woman;
I could tell you another sad story about women.

traditional (translated from Irish by James Joyce)
Note: In the feudal British Isles, the lord or earl of
     the manor had the first right to bed the new bride
     of any of his subjects.  By the time of the brown
     and yellow earl, this custom had been forgotten by
     all but, perhaps, the lords themselves.  When the
     earl spies the pretty young bride, he invokes the old
     law.  The husband innocently hands her over for an
     hour and a day, only to kill himself in grief when
     he learns the truth.  Debby McClatchy
@death @marriage
filename[ BRWNYLLW
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROWN GIRL

There was a young lady from London she came
And Sally and Sally and Sally was her name
Her portion was more than the king he possessed
Her beauty was more than the worth it could fetch.

Every night in the city (?) for more than one year
I courted this damsel and straightway did steer.
But Sally being scornful, her portion being high.
All on this young knight she'd scarce cast an eye.

O Sally, O Sally, O Sally, said he,
I'm sorry that your love and mine can't agree,
For I'm sure that you will my ruin prove,
Unless your great hatred all turns into love.

I've no hatred for you, nor no other man,
But as for to fancy you, I never can.
So drop your attire and end your discourse,
For I never will marry you unless I am forced.

Before two years had come, or two years had passed,
He heard of this young lady's misfortune at last,
She sent for this young man she had slighted and scorned,
She was pierced through the heart and she knew not wherefrom.

Then to her he came to the side of her bed:
A pain in your side, or a pain in your head?
O no, kind sir, the rights you've not guessed,
The pain that I feel presses (or pierces) me through the breast.

Am I then the doctor you sent for me here?
Yes, you are the doctor, she cried, my dear.
You are the man that first caused my woe,
Then without your assistance I'm ruined, I know.

O Sally, O Sally, O Sally, said he,
Don't you remember how you slighted me?
The words you have spoken you slighted with scorn
And now I'll reward you for things past and gone.

For things past and gone, I hope you'll forgive.
God grant me that blessing each day that I live.
No, I never will forgive you while I have breath.
I'll dance on your grave when you're laid in the earth.

Then off of her fingers pulled diamond rings three,
Keep these for my sake when you're dancing on me.
I'll freely forgive you although you won't me,
Ten thousand times over my folly I see.

Then fare you well, friends, and fare you well, foes,
Likewise to my sweetheart wherever he goes.
For ever I must lie in this cold bed of clay.
My red rosy lips must mould away,

@love @death
Child #295
From Sharp, English Folk Song from the Southern Appalachians
filename[ BRNGIRL
play.exe BRNGIRL
play.exe BRNGIRL1
play.exe BRNGIRL2
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROWN'S FERRY BLUES

H@rd luck poppa, a-countin' his toes,
You can smell his feet wherever he goes,
     Lord, Lord, and he's got those Brown's Ferry Blues.
Hard luck poppa done lost his stuff
The trouble with him he's played too rough.
     Lord, Lord, and he's got those Brown's Ferry Blues.

Two old maids a-sitting in the sand,
Each one wishing that the other was a man,
     Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues
Two old maids done lost their style,
If you want to be lucky you got to smile.
     Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues

Early to bed and early, to rise,
And your girl goes out with other guys.
     Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry BIues
If you don't believe me try it yourself,
Well I tried it and I got left.
     Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues

Hardluck poppa standing in the rain,
If the world was corn he couldn't buy grain.
     Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues
Hardluck poppa standing in the snow,
His knees knock together but he's raring to go.
     Lord, Lord, got those Brown's Ferry Blues.

Recorded by the New Lost City Ramblers
filename[ BRWNFERY
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BROWNED OFF
(Ewan MacColl)

I used to be a silly chum, as decent as can be,
I used to think a workin' lad had a man's right to be free
But then they made a lousy soldier out of me
And told me I had got to save Democracy.

     Oh I was browned off, browned off, browned off as can be,
     Browned off, browned off, an easy mark, that's me.
     But when this war is over and again I'm free
     There'll be no more trips around the world for me.

They stuck me in a convict suit, they made me cut me hair
They took me civvie shoes away they gave me another pair
Instead of grub they gave me slush and plenty of fresh air
And this was all to help me save Democracy

Now every day I'm on parade long before the dawn
And every day I curse the bloody day that I was born.
But I am just a browned-off soldier, anyone can see
They browned me off to help to save Democracy.

The colonel kicks the major, then the major has a go
He kicks the poor old captain who then kicks the NCO,
And as the kicks get harder, the poor old private, you can see,
Gets kicked to bloody hell to save Democracy.

From British Army Songs, MacColl
@WWII @army @bitching @military
filename[ BRWNDOFF
play.exe BRWNDOFF
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRUTON TOWN

In Bruton Town there lived a noble man
He had two sons and a daughter fair
By night and day they were contriving
For to fill their sister's heart with care

One night one night our restless young girl
One brother rose up from his bed
He heard the servant court their sister
Oh he heard they had a mind to wed

Oh when he rose the very next morning
Went searching for the servantman
And when he found him this young man he murdered
Oh left him lying in the briars around

Oh she went to bed a-crying and lamenting
And thinking of her own true love
And as she slept she dreamt that she saw him
a-lying in the countryside all covered with gore and blood

"Oh brothers, brothers why do you whisper
And what's become of this servantman ?"
-"Oh we lost him when we were a-contending
We lost him were he won't ever be found"

Oh she early rose the very next morning
And searched the countryside around
And there she saw her own dear jewel
A-lying in the briars where he'd been found

Three days and nights he'd lie by him
She thought her heart it would break with woe
When a cruel hunger came upon her
And in despair to her home she did go

Oh sister, sister why do you whisper
And won't you tell us where you've been
Stand off, stand off you bloody butchers
My love and I you have all slain

------------------------------------------------------------------------
recorded by Sandy Denny live in 1972 for the BBC (in the Denny Box Set)
and in a slightly different version by Tim Hart & Maddy Prior on
"Folk Songs Of Olde England Vol.1" (1968)

This is similar to "Clerk Saunders" ( Child #69 ), but then again, songs
of similar content abound in the English tradition.

tune from Sharp, English Folk Songs

@love @murder @family
filename[ JEALBRO4
play.exe JEALBRO4
MJ
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BRYAN O'LYNN

Bryan O'Lynn was a gentleman born
He lived at a time when no clothes they were worn,
But as fashion went out, of course Bryan walked in
"Whoo, I'll lead the fashions," says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn had no breeches to wear
He got him a sheepskin to make him a pair,
With the fleshy side out and the woolly side in,
"Whoo, they're pleasant and cool." says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn had no shirt to his back,
He went to his neighbor's and borrowed a sack
Then he puckered the meal bag up under his chin
"Whoo, they'll take them for ruffles," says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn had no hat to his head,
He thought that the pot would do him instead,
Then he murdered murdered a cod for the sake of its fin,
"Whoo, 'twill pass for a feather." says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn was hard up for a coat
He borrowed a skin of a neighboring goat
With the horns sticking out from his oxters, and then
"Whoo, they'll take them for pistols,"  says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn had no stockings to  wear,
He bought him a rat's skin to make him a pair,
He then drew them on and they fitted his shin,
"Whoo, they're illegant wear,"  says   Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn had no brogues to his toes,
He hopped on two crab shells to serve him for those,
Then he split up two oysters that matched just like twins,
"Whoo, they'll shine out like buckles," says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn had no watch to put on,
He scooped out a turnip to make him a one
Then he planted a cricket in under the skin
"Whoo, they'll think it's a-tickin,"  says Bryan O'Lynn.


Bryan O'Lynn to his house had no door,
He'd the sky for a roof and the bog for a floor,
He'd a way to jump out and a way to swim in,
"Whoo, it's very convanient," says Bryan O'Lynn.

Bryan O'Lynn, his wife, and wife's mother,
They all went home o'er the bridge together,
The bridge it broke down and  they all tumbled in,
"Whoo, we'll go home by water," says Bryan O'Lynn.

From Songs of the People, Henry
@Irish
filename[ BRNOLYN
play.exe BRNOLYN
play.exe BRNOLYN2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUAIN NA RAINICH  (CUTTING THE BRACKEN)

(seist/chorus)
Tha mi sgi\th, 's mi leam fhi\n
Buain na rainich, buain na rainich;
Tha mi sgi\th, 's mi leam fhi\n,
Buain na rainich daonnan

(rannan/verses)

(1)
's tric a bha mi fhi\n 's mo leannan anns a' gleannan cheo\thar
'G e\isdeachd co\isir bhinn an doire, seinn sa choille dho\mhail

(2)
'S bochd nach robh mi leat a-rithist,
Sinn a bhitheadh ceo\lmhor;
Rachainn leat gu cu\l na cruinne
Air bha\rr tuinne seo\ladh

(3)
Ciod am feum dhomh a bith tuireadh -
De\ ni\ tuireadh dho\mhsa
'S mi\ cho fada o gach duine
B'urrainn tighinn gam cho\mhnadh?

(4)
Cul an tomain, bra\igh an tomain
Cul an tomain bho\idhich
Cul an tomain, bra\igh an tomain
H-uile latha nam o\nar

Note:From the excellent book Tog Fonn!, published by Taigh na Teud,
13 Breacais Ard, An t-Eilean Sgitheanach IV42 8PY. The book has music in
staff format too. I would highly recommend writing off for a copy of
their catalogue. ISBN of Tog Fonn is 1 871931 41 X CC

@Scots @Gaelic
filename[ BUAINNA
CC
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUCK-EYED JIM

'Way down yonder in a hollow log
A jaybird danced with an ol' bullfrog.

cho: Buck-eyed Jim, you can't go
     Go weave and spin, you can't go
     Buck-eyed Jim

Way up yonder above the moon
A jaybird lived in a silver spoon.

Way down yonder in a wooden trough
An old woman died of the whoopin' cough.

Way up yonder above the sky
A jaybird spit in a bluebird's eye.

@kids @lullaby @animal
filename[ BUCKEYJM
play.exe BUCKEYJM
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUCKEYE JIM

Way up yonder above the moon
Bluejay rests in a silver spoon
Buckeye Jim, can't go weave or spin
Can't go, Buckeye Jim

Way up yonder above the sky
Bluejay rest in a green birds eye
Buckeye Jim, can't go weave or spin
Can't go, Buckeye Jim

They'll be an end to grief and pain
A warm bright sky beyond the rain
You don't have wings so you can't fly
But you can dream it if you try

But in Paradise the white bird sings
Touch your face with tender wings
Buckeye Jim, you'll go weave and spin
You'll go, Buckeye Jim

@bird
filename[ BUCKEYE2
play.exe BUCKEYJM
BL
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BUCKING BRONCO

My love is a rider, wild horses he breaks,
But he promised to quit it all just for my sake;
He sold off his saddle, his spurs, and his rope,
And there'll be no more riding, and that's what I hope.

The first time I saw him was early last spring,
A-riding a bronco, a high-headed thing;
He laughed and he talked as they danced to and fro
He promised he'd not ride no other bronco.

My love has a gun that has gone to the bad,
Which makes all the ladies to feel very sad;
He give me some presents, among them a ring
But the return I gave him was a far better thing.

Now, all you young ladies that live on the Platte
Don't marry the cowboy who wears a white hat;
He'll pet you and court you and then be will go
And ride up the trail on another bronco.

From Ozark Folksongs, Randolph
Collected from E. J. Ferriss, Arkansas, 1927
Recorded by the Girls of the Golden West etc.
@cowboy @courting  @work
filename[ BUCKBRNC
play.exe BUCKBRNC
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUCKSKIN STALLION BLUES
(Townes Van Zandt)

I heard her sing in tongues of silver; I heard her cry on a summer storm
I lived her but she did not know it, so I don't think about her anymore.
Now she's gone and I can't believe it, so I don't think about her anymore.

If three and four were seven only, where would that leave one and two?
If love can be and still be lonely, where does that leave me and you?
Time there was and time there will be, where does that leave me and you?

If I had a buckskin stallion I'd tame him down and ride away.
And if I had a flyin' schooner, I'd sail into the light of day.
If I had your love forever, sail into the light of day.

Pretty songs and pretty places; places that I've never seen.
Pretty songs and pretty faces; tell me what their laughter means.
Some look like they'll cry forever; tell me what their laughter means.

If I had a buckskin stallion I'd tame him down and ride away.
And if I had a golden galleon, I'd sail into the light of day.
If I had your love forever, sail into the light of day.

@love @animal
Copyright Townes Van Zandt
filename[ BUCKSKIN
DS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BUDGEON IT IS A DELICATE TRADE

The budgeon it is a delicate trade,
And a delicate trade of fame,
For when that we have bit the blow,
We carry away the game.

But if the cully nab us,
And the lurries from us take,
O then he rubs us to the whit
Though we are not worth a make.

From Popular Music of the Olden Time, Chappell
Note: This is a fragment; according to Chappell a complete song
  appears in A New Canting Dictionary, 1725, and in The Triumph of
  Wit. The song is in cant: a budge is a burglar. RG
@outlaw
filename[ MILLDEE4
play.exe MILLDEE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BUFFALO SKINNERS

'Twas in the town of Jacksboro, in the spring of seventy-three
A man by the name of Crego came stepping up to me,
Saying "How do you do, young fellow, and how would you like to go
And spend one summer pleasantly on the range of the buffalo?"

It's me being out of employment, this to Crego I did say,
"This going out on the buffalo range depends upon the pay.
But if you will pay good wages, and transportation to and fro
I think, Sir, I will go with you to the range of the buffalo."

"Yes I will pay good wages, give transportation too
Provided you will go with me and stay the summer through;
But if you should grow homesick, come back to Jacksboro
I won't pay transportation from the range of the buffalo."

It's now our outfit was complete, seven able-bodied men,
With navy six and needle gun, our troubles did begin;
Our way it was a pleasant one, the route we had to go
Until we crossed Pease River, on the range of the buffalo.

It's now we've crossed Pease River, our troubles have begun,
The first damned tail I went to rip, Christ! how I cut my thumb!
While skinning the damned old stinkers, our lives they had no show
For the Indians watched to pick us off while skinning the buffalo.

He fed us on such sorry chuck, I wished myself most dead
It was old jerked beef, croton coffee and sour bread.
Pease River's as salty as hell fire, the water I never could go
O God! I wished I had never come to the the range of the buffalo.

Our meat it was buffalo hump and iron wedge bread
And all we had to sleep on was a buffalo robe for a bed.
The fleas and gray-backs worked on us, O boys, it was not slow
I tell you there's no worse hell on earth than the the range of the buffalo.

Our hearts were cased with buffalo hocks, our souls were cased with steel,
And the hardships of that summer would nearly make us reel;
While skinning the damned old stinkers, our lives they had no show
For the Indians watched to pick us off on the hills of Mexico.

The season being near over,  old Crego he did say
The crowd had been extravagant, was in debt to him that day;
We coaxed him and we begged him, and still it was no go,
So we left old Crego's bones to bleach on the range of the buffalo.

Oh, it's now we've crossed Pease River, and homeward we are bound,
No more in that hell-fired country shall ever we be found.
Go home to our wives and sweethearts, tell others not to go
For God's forsaken the buffalo range, and the damned old buffalo.

From Lomax, Cowboy Songs
@cowboy @work @murder
filename[ BUFFSKIN
play.exe BUFFSKIN
play.exe BUFFSKN2
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BUG-OUT BALLAD (MOVING ON)

Hear the patter of running feet
It's the old First Cav in full retreat
     They're moving on; they'll soon be gone
     They're haulin' ass, not savin' gas
     They'll soon be gone.

Over n that hill there's a Russian tank
A million Chinks are on my flank
     I'm movin' on, I'll soon be gone
     With my M-1 broke, it ain't no joke
     I'll soon be gone.

Million Chinks comin' through the pass
Playin' burp-gun boogie all over my ass
     I'm movin' on, I'll soon be gone
     With my M-1 broke, it ain't no joke
     I'll soon be gone.

Twenty thousand Chinks comin' through the pass
I'm tellin' you, baby, I'm haulin' ass
     I'm moving on; I'll soon be gone
     I'm haulin' ass, not savin' gas
     I'll soon be gone.

Standin' in a rice paddy up to my belly
From then on, they called me "Smelly"
     I'm moving on; I'll soon be gone
     I'm haulin' ass, not savin' gas
     I'll soon be gone.

Here's papa-san comin' down the track
Old A-frame strapped to his back
     He's moving on; he'll soon be gone
     he's haulin' ass, not savin' gas
     He'll soon be gone.

Here's mama-san comin' down the track
Titty hangin' out, baby on her back
     She's moving on; she'll soon be gone
     From her tits to her toes, she's damn near froze
     She'll soon be gone.

I sung this song for the very last time
Gonna get Korea off my mind
     I'm moving on; I'll soon be gone
     I done my time in the shit and slime
     I'm movin' on.

From Ther Erotic Muse, Cray
Collected from Cray, 1953
 Note: a parody of a country classic by Hank Snow

In Vietnam, they sang:
The McNamara Line is a hundred miles long
Completely surrounded by Viet Cong
     I'm movin' on etc.

@war @army @Korea @America @retreat @bitching @parody
filename[ BUGOUT
play.exe MOVINGON
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BULL FROG

There was a bull frog living in the spring
     Sing song Polly won't you ky-me-o;
He had such a cold that he could not sing
     Sing song Polly won't you ky-me-o;

cho: Keemo, kymo darowah
     Mahee, mahi, maho
     Nit cap ko bomadiddle nit cap set back
     Sing song Polly won't you ky-me-o;

Oh, I took him out and laid him on the ground
The bull frog winked and looked all around

He rode away to get him a bride
With a sword and a pistol by his side.

But the sun shone bright for there was no rain
So the bull frog jumped in the pond again.

From Traditional American Folk Songs, Warner and Warner
Collected from Lena Bourne Fish, NH, 1941
@animal @courting @illness
filename[ FRGCORT3
play.exe FRGCORT3
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BULLFROG KING
(Bert Maine)

C            Em   Am       C         F               G        C
I went for a walk late one night and talked with the bullfrog king
C                 Em           Am        C          F     G     C
He told me of the moon and the big green pond and several other things
     F                      Em                        D7                G
I've talked with many, many fascinating lads and it's been most interesting
        C         Em              Am         C             F
But the very best tales that I've ever heard spun were the ones from the
    G        C     F G C Em Am C F G C
    Bullfrog King


He told me once he saw a fly so fine and fat and sweet
With color bright twas such delight that he declined to eat
Instead he said, Dear Mr. Fly, You've made my very day
And the poor fly did a double take and promptly flew away
He spoke with horror of Julia Child and he made a hasty wish
That she'd keep her damned old lemon sauce for exclusive use with fish
He added that one of his relatives had once passed on flambe
But as for himself, he really would prefer to croak in the usual way

As we chatted, he was sitting on his throne, a fine green leafy pad
Made broad swipes with a cattail scepter he inherited from his dad
His royal clothes were impeccably cut and they fit him nice and neat
He was one of those kings who is so very much a king that you didn't notice
     his bare feet

The evening passed so quickly, it was time for me to leave
And as I turned to go, the bullfrog king, he royally caught my sleeve
He said, It's been so pleasant, he was sad it had to end
eant to show you, (that) you should been at home   Instead
He asked me please to bring you along when I come back again

From singing of Ed Britt
@animal
filename[ BULLFRG
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BULLY IN THE ALLEY

It's a help me, Bob, I'm a bully in the alley,
Way, hey, bully in the alley!
Help me, Bob, I'm a bully in the alley,
Bully down in shinbone al!

Well, Sally is the girl down in our alley,
Sally is the girl that I spliced nearly.

I'll leave my Sal and I'll go a sailin',
I'll leave my Sal and go a whalin'.

@sailor
filename[ BULLYALL
play.exe BULLYALL
BR
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUNDLING SONG

Adam at first was formed of dust
As we find on record;
And did receive a wife call'd Eve,
By a creative word.

From Adam's side a crooked bride,
We find complete in form;
Ordained that they in bed might lay,
And keep each other warm.

To court indeed they had no need
She was his wife at first,
And she was made to be his aid,
Whose origin was dust.

This new made pair full happy were,
And happy might remained,
If his helpmeet had never eat
The fruit that was restrained.

Tho' Adam's wife destroyed his life
In manner that is awful;
Yet marriage now we all allow
To be both just and lawful.

And now a days there is two ways,
Which of the two is right:
To lie between sheets sweet and clean
Or sit up all the night.

But some suppose bundling in clothes
The good and wise doth vex;
Then let me know which way to go
To court the fairer sex.

Whether they must be hugg'd and buss'd
When sitting up all night;
Or whether they in bed may lay,
Which doth reason invite?

Nature's request, is give me rest,
Our bodies seek repose;
Night is the time, and 'tis no crime
To bundle in our clothes.

Since in a bed a man and maid
May bundle and be chaste;
It doth no good to burn up wood
It is a needless waste.

Let coat and shift be turned adrift,
And breeches take their flight,
An honest man and virgin can
Lay quiet all the night.

But if there be dishonesty
Implanted in the mind,
Breeches nor smocks, nor scarce padlock
The rage of lust can bind.

Kate, Nance and Sue proved just and true,
Tho' bundling did practice;
But Ruth [was] beguil'd and proved with child
Who bundling did despise.

Whores will be whores, and on the floor
Where many has been laid
To sit and smoke and ashes poke
Won't keep awake a maid.

Bastards are not at all times got
In feather beds we know
The strumpet's oath convinces both
Oft times it is not so.

One whorish dame, I fear to name
Lest I should give offense
But in this town she was took down
Not more than eight months since.

She was the first that on snow crust
I ever knew to gender;
I'll hint no more about this whore
For fear I should offend her.

'Twas on the snow when Sol was low,
And was in Capricorn
A child was got, and it will not
Be long ere it is born.

Now onto those who do oppose
The bundling trade, I say
Perhaps there's more got on the floor
Than any other way.

In ancient books no knowledge is
Of these things to be got;
Whether young men did bundle then,
Or whether they did not.

Since ancient book says wife they took,
It don't say how they courted;
Whether young men  did bundle then,
Or by the fire sported.

They only meant to say they sent
A man to choose a bride;
Isaac was so, but let me know,
If any one beside.

Men don't pretend to trust a friend
To choose him sheep or cows;
Much more a wife whom all his life
He does expect to house.

Since it doth stand each one in hand
To happyfy his life;
I would advise each to be wise,
And choose a prudent wife.

Since bundling is not a thing
That judgment will procure;
Go on young men and bundle then
But keep your bodies pure.

From Jim Douglas, Contentment, The Complete Nutmeg
State Songster, Broadside 1786 Connecticut
air added: There was a Jolly Miller (Douglas?)
bundling was a New England practice of bedding a courting
  couple with a board between them (sometimes)
[in medieval romances a naked sword blade was placed between
  the couple, SF]
@courting  @marriage @sex
filename[ BUNDLNG
play.exe MILLDEE
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BURGUNDIAN CAROL

The  winter season of the year,
When to this world our Lord was born,
The ox and donkey, so they say,
Did keep his holy presence warm.
     How many oxen and donkeys now
     If they were there when first he came,
     How many oxen and donkeys you know
     At such a time would do the same?

And on that night it has been told
These humble beasts so rough and rude,
Throughout the noght of holy birth
Drank no water, ate no food.
     How many oxen and donkeys now
     If they were there when first he came,
     How many oxen and donkeys you know
     At such a time would do the same?

As soon as to these humble beasts
Appeared our Lord, so mild and sweet,
With joy they knelt before his Grace
And gently kissed His tiny feet.
     How many oxen and donkeys now
     Dressed in ermine, silk and such,
     How many oxen and donkeys you know
     At such a time would do as much?

Written by Bernard LaMonnoye, ca 1700. Translated by Oscar Brand
Recorded by the Weavers.
@Xmas      @animal @religion
filename[ BURGUNDN
play.exe BURGUNDN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BURKE AND HARE

Tae help the folk in medical school, word is passed around
A body nae mair than ten days auld will bring in fourteen pound.
It's a terrible thing, but truth tae say ---in this age o' greed
A man's worth little when he's alive, but plenty when he's deid.

cho:
    An' it's doon the close an' up the stair
    A but-an'-ben wi' Burke and Hare
    Burke's the butcher, Hare's the thief
    And Knox is the man that buys the beef.

So in the dark of mony a nicht, when a' guid folks are sleeping
By the dyke and in the kirkyard come twa shadows creeping.
An' mony a man that's cauld richt thru an' safely hid away
He never thocht it wisnae the last he'd see the licht o'day.

But no contentit wi' howkin' deid, a ploy that aye gets harder
They've started pickin' healthy folk, and then committin' murder.
An' a' arood the countryside creeps a fearsome pair---
Be ye man or wife or wean, ye're nae safe from Burke and Hare.

Men and women, auld and young, the sickly and the hale
Were murdered, packed up and sent off tae Knox's human sale.
That man o' skill wi' subjects warm was frequently supplied,
Nor did he question where or how the person brought had died.

But noo auld Reekie can sleep at last; these two will trade nae mair
It's the gallows tree for William Burke, and a pauper's grave for Hare.

@outlaw @Scots
filename[ BURKHARE
play.exe BURKHARE
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BURNING OF AUCHINDOUN

As I cam' in by Fiddichside, on a May morning
I spied Willie MacIntosh an hour before the dawning

Turn agin, turn agin, turn agin, I bid ye
If ye burn Auchindoun, Huntly he will heid ye

Heid me or hang me, that shall never fear me
I'll burn Auchindoun thought the life leaves me

As I cam' in by Auchindoun on a may morning
Auchindoun was in a bleeze, an hour before the dawning

Crawing, crawing, for a' your crouse crawin'
Ye brunt your crop an' tint your wings an hour before the dawning

Child #183
@Scots
Printed in Buchan and Hall The Scottish Folksinger
filename[ BURNAUCH
play.exe BURNAUCH
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
THE BURNING OF THE SCHOOL

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school,
We have beaten every teacher, we have broken every rule!
We have smashed up all the blackboards, we have thrown out all the books*
The school is burning down.
     Glory, glory, hallelujah!
     Teacher hit me with a ruler,
     I bopped her on the bean with a rotten tangerine,
     And I won't go to school no more.

*or "We have wandered down the halls writing cuss words on the walls"

@kids @school
filename[ BURNSCHL
play.exe JOHNBRWN
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BURY ME BENEATH THE WILLOW

cho: Then bury me beneath the willow
     'Neath the weeping willow tree
     When he knows where I am sleeping
     Then perhaps he'll weep for me

My heart is sad and I am lonely
Thinking of the one I love
I know I never more shall see him
'Till we meet in heaven above.

They told me that he loved another
How could I believe them true
Until an angel softly whispered
He has proven his love untrue.

Tomorrow was to be our wedding
O Lord, O Lord where can he be
He's gone away to wed another
And no more he cares for  me.

From American Songbag, Sandburg
Recorded by Guthrie & Houston, and about a million early C&W artists
@love @death
filename[ BURYWLLW
play.exe BURYWLLW
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUSHES AND BRIARS

Through bushes and briars
I've lately made my way
All for to hear the small birds sing
And the lambs to skip and play
All for....

I overheard a female
Her voice it rang so clear
Long time have I been waiting for
The coming of my dear
Long time....

Sometimes I am weary
And troubled in my mind
Sometimes I think I'll go to him
And tell to him my mind.

But if I should go to my love
My love he would say nay
If I showed to him my boldness
He'd ne'er love me again
If I showed...

Through bushes...

Note: The song was overhead by Vaughan-Williams in 1905 whilst in
Essex.  He persuaded the singer, a Mr. Potipher, to let him take it
down.  It is supposedly the song which kindled VW's interest in folk
music and led to the modern folk revival. PA
@love
filename[ BUSHBRIR
play.exe BUSHBRIR
PA
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUSINESS FOR LOVE

Sin and corruption are known to Tim Finister
Guilt and abasement and other things sinister
 Buy your salvation from him, he's a minister:
 --he sells his soul for Love

cho: Give him matronly fawning and insincere kisses
     His mother has spoiled him and so has his missus;
     He likes to be worshipped, he's such a Narcissus,
     And he's in the business for love
     In the business for love

 Honest John States, man, who sets hearts aquiver
 Is forthright with promises he can't deliver.
 Now that he's President, oh how I shiver
 For he's in the business for love

 (CHORUS)
The actor and actress are charming and witty
 And equally glued to the Great Public Titty
 It's better, I guess, than indulge in self-pity,
 and they're in the business for love.

 (CHORUS)
So the actor and priest and the statesman score zero
Like Hitler and Nixon and Franco and Nero
'Cause each had his start as his Mommy's own hero
And they're in the business for Love.

 (CHORUS)

They'll do it, they'll do it, for love and for power,
They'll do it for minutes or hour upon hour,
They'll do it on stage or alone in the shower
And all in the name of love...

Because of their hunger for Love.
Sin and corruption are known to Tim Finister
Guilt and abasement and other things sinister
Buy your salvation from him, he's a minister:
--he sells his soul for Love

filename[ BUSLOVE
SW
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUTCHER'S BOY

In yonder city, there did dwell
A butcher's boy, I loved him well
He courtef me my life away
And then with me would no more stay.

She went upstairs to make her bed
And not one word to her mother said
Her mother she went upstairs too
Saying, "Daughter, oh daughter, what troubles you?"

"Oh mother, oh mother, I cannot tell
That butcher's boy I love so well
He courted me my life away
And now at home he will not stay"

"There is a place in London town
Where that butcher's boy goes and sits down
He takes that strange girl on his knee
And tells to her what he won't tell me"

Her father he came up from work
Saying, "Where is my daughter, she seems so hurt"
He went upstairs to give her hope
And found her hanging from a rope

He took his knife and cut her down
And in her bosom these words were found
"Go dig my grave both wide and deep
Place a marble slab at my head and feet
And over my coffin, place a snow white dove
To warn the world that I died of love

from Peggy Seeger
Recorded on Folkways Anthology
@love @death
filename[ BUTCHBOY
play.exe BUTCHBOY
SF
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUTTERMILK HILL

Here I sit on Buttermilk Hill
Who can blame me, cryin' my fill
And ev'ry tear would turn a mill,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.

Me, oh my, I loved him so,
Broke my heart to see him go,
And only time will heal my woe,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll sell my rod, I'll sell my reel,
Likewise I'll sell my spinning wheel,
And buy my love a sword of steel,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.

I'll dye my dress, I'll dye it red,
And through the streets I'll beg for bread,
For the lad that I love from me has fled,
Johnny has gone for a soldier.

Recorded by Ives et. al.
@America  @parting @soldier
filename[ SHULARN4
play.exe SHULARN4
RG
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUY BROOM BESOMS

     1.
     Buy broom besoms,
     Better never grew;
     Bonny heather reenges,
     Wha'll hae them noo?

     Besoms for a penny,
     Reenges for a plack;
     And ye winna hae them,
     Tie them on ma back!

     2.
     Buy broom beesoms,
     Wha'll buy them nou,
     Fine heather reenges,
     Better nivver grew;

     Reenges for a penny,
     Besoms for a plack,
     And if ye dinna want tae buy them
     Help them on ma back.
     ________________________________________________________

     (1) Montgomerie SC (1948), 146 (no. 262), "Besom-Seller's
     Cry", from Fife; (2) Cheape & Sprott, Angus Country Life
     (1980), 46, an old "tinker lullaby".
Reenges = "scrubbers", often made of heather. Var. of 1-4,
Rymour Club Misc. I (1906-11), 171: "Fine broom besoms!
Wha'll buy them noo?/ Fine heather ranges! Better never
grew."  Ibid. II (1912-19), 110, "Tinker's or Gypsy's Rhyme",
= st.2: "There's besoms for a penny, and reenges for a
plack;/ If ye beena gaun to buy them, Come, lift them on my
back."
Full version in Northumbrian Minstrelsy (1882), 118 [of which
our text approx. = chorus and st. 2], with music, whence Dick
Songs 255 (No. 273), to Burns' "Wha will buy my troggin?"
(written 1796).  Two other songs to the tune survive in
Burns' holograph, probably traditional pieces collected by
him: --Kinsley, 913-14, no. 626 A-B.  The texts are from
Davidson Cook's transcripts from the Law MSS (Burns
Chronicle, 1926, 60-61).  [The second of these is a version
of "Says the auld man Tae the oak tree", q.v.]

@Scots
filename[ BROMBES2
play.exe BROOMBES
MS
===DOCUMENT BOUNDARY===
BUY BROOM BESOMS

     I maun hae a wife, whatsoe'er she be;
     An she be a woman, that's eneugh for me.
        Buy broom besoms! wha will buy them now;
        Fine heather ringers, better never grew.

     If that she be bony, I shall think her right:
     If that she be ugly, where's the odds at night?
        Buy broom &c.

     O, an she be young, how h