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The Fair Maid(en) is a Maiden of Beauty Fair http://www.worldworksgames.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=3&t=1526 |
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Author: | Mission Orange [ 01-29-2006, 05:12 AM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 02-04-2006, 08:12 PM ] |
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One of, I believe three, cheerful songs about ship wrecks that I know, this one with a happy ending. The Mary Ellen Carter (Stan Rogers) She went down last October in a pouring driving rain. The skipper, he'd been drinking and the Mate, he felt no pain. Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt her mortal blow, And the Mary Ellen Carter settled low. There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash. We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost. And the groan she gave as she went down, it caused us to proclaim That the Mary Ellen Carter would rise again. Well, the owners wrote her off; not a nickel would they spend. She gave twenty years of service, boys, then met her sorry end. But insurance paid the loss to them, they let her rest below. Then they laughed at us and said we had to go. But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock, For she's worth a quarter million, afloat and at the dock. And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again. Rise again, rise again, that her name not be lost To the knowledge of men. Those who loved her best and were with her till the end Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again. All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend. Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends. Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow Or I'd never have the strength to go below. But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and porthole down. Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around. Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain. And watch the Mary Ellen Carter Rise Again. For we couldn't leave her there, you see, to crumble into scale. She'd saved our lives so many times, living through the gale And the laughing, drunken rats who left her to a sorry grave They won't be laughing in another day. . . And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again. Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken And life about to end No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend. Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again. As a gaming aside, one of the most famous ships in Traveller: the New Era was named after this ship, and bore the motto 'That Her Name Not Be Lost'. The Auld Grump |
Author: | Mission Orange [ 02-05-2006, 05:15 AM ] |
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"THE LOVELY NORTHERN LASS, who in this ditty here complaining shews What harm she got milking her daddy's ewes."' To a pleasant Scotch tune called The Broom of Cowdon Knowes. THROUGH Liddersdale as lately I went, I musing on did pass, I heard a maid was discontent, She sigh'd and said, alas! All maids that ever deceived were, Bear a part of these my woes, For once I was a bonny lass When I milkt my daddy's ewes. With O the broom, the bonny broom, The broom of Cowdon Knowes, Fain would I be in the north country, To milk my daddy's ewes. My love into the fields did come When my daddy was at home, Sugar'd words he gave me there, Prais'd me for such a one, His honey breath and lips so oft, And his alluring eye, And tempting tongue hath woo'd me oft, Now forces me to cry, All maids, &c. He joy'd me with his pretty chat, So well discourse could he, Talking of this thing and of that, Which greatly liked me, I was so, greatly taken with his speech, And with his comely making, He used all the words could be To enchant me with his speaking. All maids, &c. In Danby forest I was born, My beauty did excell, My parents dearly loved me Till my belly began to swell: I might have been a prince's peer, When I came over the Knoes, Till the shepherd's boy beguiled me, Milking my daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. When once I felt my belly swell, No longer might I abide, My mother put me out of doors, And bang'd me back and side: Then did I range the world so wide, Wandering about the Knoes, Cursing the boy that helped me To fold my daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. Who would have thought a boy so young, Would have us'd a maiden so, As to allure her with his tongue, And then from her to go Which hath, alas, procured my woe, To credit his fair shews, Which now too late repent I do The milking of the ewes. All maids, &c. I often since have wisht that I Had never seen his face, I needed not thus mournfully Have sigh'd, and said alas; I might have matched with the best, As all the country knows, Had I escap'd the shepherd boy Helpt me to fold my ewes. All maids, &c. SECOND PART. All maidens fair then have a care, When you a milking go, Trust not to young men's tempting tongues, That will deceive you so; Them you shall find to be unkind, And glory in your woes; For the shepherd's boy beguiled me, Folding my daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. If you your virgin honors keep, Esteeming of them dear, You need not then to wail and weep, Or your parents anger fear: As I have said of them beware, Would glory in your woes, You then may sing with merry cheer, Milking your daddy's ewes. All maid's, &c. A young man hearing her complaint, Did pity this her case, Saying to her, sweet beauteous saint, I grieve so fair a face Should sorrow so, then sweeting know To ease thee of thy woes, I'll go with thee to the north country, To milk thy daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. Leander like I will remain, Still constant to thee ever, As Pyramus or Troilus Till death our lives shall sever; Let me be hated evermore Of all men that me know, If false to thee, sweetheart, I be, Milking thy daddy's ewes. All maids, &c. Then modestly she did reply, Might I so happy be, Of you to find a husband kind, And for to marry me; Then to you I would, during life, Continue constant still, And be a true obedient wife, Observing of your will. With O the broom, the bonny broom, The broom of Cowden Knowes, Pain would I be in the north country, Milking my daddy's ewes. Thus with a gentle soft embrace, He took her in his arms, And with a kiss he smiling said, I'll shield thee from all harms, And instantly will marry thee, To ease thee of thy woes, And go with thee to the north country, To milk thy daddy's ewes. With O the broom, the bonny broom, The broom of Cowden Knowes, Fain would I be in my own country, Milking my daddy's ewes. |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 03-04-2006, 11:29 PM ] |
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My lotus lady I'll see no more, Away, boys, away-o Since I left her on the China shore. Away, boys, lift and walk away. Away, boys, away-o Blow me down that Yangtse River Away, boys, lift and walk away. When we first met she was like a queen, Prettiest little thing that I'd ever seen. She'd flashing eyes and long black hair, All I could do was stand and stare. The sweetest flower, my Yangtse honey, My own good gal she spent my money. I bought her silks and a golden comb, Trouble's over now the anchor's home. I blowed my silver for to win her, Now there's nothing left but pork for dinner. We're outward bound, cookie's in the galley, Farewell, young moon, of the Yangtse Valley. I was just at a party with John Roberts of Roberts & Barand. I had a wonderful time. In folk music circles I am counted as young! The Auld Grump *EDIT* Added link to a site that has an MP3 of the tune as well as the lyrics. (Charlie Ipcar's site - Charlie_Noble on Mudcat.) |
Author: | Mission Orange [ 03-05-2006, 06:24 AM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 03-05-2006, 10:01 AM ] |
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Author: | Mission Orange [ 03-17-2006, 12:31 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 03-17-2006, 03:20 PM ] |
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Author: | Mission Orange [ 05-05-2006, 12:44 PM ] |
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"Now to the Brocken the witches ride; The stubble is gold and the corn is green; There is the carnival crew to be seen, And Squire Urianus will come to preside. So over the valleys our company floats, With witches a-farting on stinking old goats." ~Excerpt from Goethe's Faust~ |
Author: | Kevin Andrew Murphy [ 05-05-2006, 02:15 PM ] |
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Author: | Pall_S [ 05-05-2006, 02:29 PM ] |
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Hey! I have some old poetry too: time draweth wrinkles in a fair face, but addeth fresh colours to a fast friend, which neither heat, nor cold, nor misery, nor place, nor destiny can alter or diminish. John Lyly, 1591 beauty, come to the hillside, our bed be high on the hill, four ages under fresh birches, the mattress of green leaves valanced with brilliant ferns, a coverlet, against beating rain of trees that check the shower. dafydd ap gwilym, 1100's |
Author: | Mission Orange [ 05-05-2006, 03:10 PM ] |
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Author: | Mission Orange [ 05-05-2006, 03:11 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 05-05-2006, 04:16 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 08-05-2006, 11:11 PM ] |
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This is just about the saddest song that I know - and I am somebody who has been *thwacked!* by a girl who then asked if I knew any happy songs. This is the one she *thwacked!* me for.... (We were on a date at the time...) ST. JAMES INFIRMARY BLUES I went down to St. James Infirmary To see my baby there, She was laid out on the table So still, so cold, so bare. Went up to see the doctor, "She's very low," he said; Went back to see my baby Good God! She's lying there dead. I went down to old Joe's barroom, On the corner by the square They were slingin' the booze as usual, And the usual crowd was there. On my left stood old Joe McKennedy, And his eyes were bloodshot red; He turned to the crowd around him, These are the words he said: Let her go, let her go, God bless her; Wherever she may be You can search this wide world over And never find another man like me. Oh, when I die, please bury me In my ten dollar Stetson hat; Put a gold piece on my watch chain So they'll know I died standin' pat. Get six gamblers to carry my coffin; Get six pretty girls to sing me a song; Get a jazz band to sit on my tailgate, To play as we roll along. Now that's the end of my story Let's have another round of booze And if anyone should ask you just tell them I've got the St. James Infirmary blues.... There's lots of different versions, but this is the one that I know. |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 11-11-2006, 09:18 PM ] |
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For Veteran's Day... The Band Played Waltzing Matilda Eric Bogle When I was a young man I carried my pack And I lived the free life of the rover. From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback I waltzed my Matilda all over. Then in nineteen fifteen the country said, "Son, It's time to stop rambling, there's work to be done." And 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 our ship pulled away from the quay, And amidst all the cheers, flag-waving and tears We sailed off to 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 call Suvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter. Johnny Turk he was waiting, he primed himself well, He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell, And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell, Nearly blew us right back to Australia. But the band played Waltzing Matilda, As we stopped to bury our slain. We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs, Then we started all over again. Now 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, But around me, the corpses piled higher. Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head, And when I woke up in me hospital bed And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead. Never knew there was 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, the maimed, And they shipped us back home to Australia. The armless, the legless, the blind and insane, Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla. And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay I looked at the place where me legs used to be, And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me, To grieve and 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. And so now every April I sit on my porch And I watch the parade pass before me. And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march, Reviving old dreams of past glory. And the old men marched slowly, all bones 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 meself 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 billabong, Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me ? The era that includes WWI had some of the most brutally savaged veterans of any. Some very depressing songs and poems came out of it. The Auld Grump, fan of Wilfred Owens... |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 04-10-2007, 05:57 PM ] |
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And one that I am working into a game.... Piper's Refrain (Duncan Campbell) (Rich Nardin) I'll tell it to you as they told it to me By the glow of the campfire burning. By the banks of the water where we sported and played, They once faced the fury of battle. CHO: And up through the Champlain came the Highland Brigade The pipes and the drummer played "Scotland the Brave." But when they sailed home the piper's refrain Was, Oh, how cruel the volley." To one Duncan Campbell it came in a dream That he'd meet his fate where he never had been; Where the blue waters roll and the stickerbush tear, It's "Travel well, Duncan, I'll wait for you there. "For the French and the Indian have challenged our King." (To a soldier like Duncan, no need to explain.) "It's many a time I've travelled the waves To find my fate in the fire." From Fort William Henry their boats have shoved off To the North of Lake George in the morning; To the place the Frenchmen call Carillon, And the Indians: Ticonderoga. And the word struck Duncan like a thunderbolt there; Everyone knew of the warning. "Oh, give us a tune to remember me by, For tomorrow I'll not be returning." When the gunpowder flashed, the Highlanders died, Never again to walk the hillside. In the wilderness green, in the sun and the rain, It's here they're forever remaining. And I've told it to you as they told it to me, Of one Duncan Campbell and the Highland Brigade. When the campfires flicker in the summertime's wane, through the mist on the water comes the piper's refrain. I would link to the MP3, but MP3.com is no longer what it once was.... |
Author: | JackAce [ 04-11-2007, 11:57 AM ] |
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Author: | spinningdice [ 04-14-2007, 06:21 AM ] |
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Don't know if this qualifies... A different version to when I first heard it, but it took me long enough to find this one. Mermaid Song When I was a lad in a fishing town An old man said to me Iain, you can live your life, your jolly life A-sailing on the sea You can search the world for pretty girls Till your eyes are weak and dim But don't go swimming with a mermaid, son If you don't know how to swim Her hair is green as seaweed Her skin is blue and pale You can love that girl with all your heart But I tell you now before you start You're just gonna love the upper part You're not gonna like the tail Well, I signed on to a whaling ship On my first day at sea I spied a mermaid in the waves A-reaching out to me Come live with me in the sea, said she Down on the ocean floor I'll show you a million wondrous things You've never seen before So in I jumped and down I swam Down to the ocean bed And a pillow made of turtle shells She placed beneath my head She fed me shrimps and caviar Served on a silver dish From her head to her waist she was just my taste But the rest of her was a fish Her hair was green as seaweed Her skin was blue and pale Her face it was a work of art And I loved that girl with all my heart But I only loved the upper part I didn't like the tail But then one day she swam away To sing to the clams and whales I missed her skin, I missed her hair And the silvery shine of her scales Then her sister came swimming by Set my heart in a whirl 'Cause the upper half was an ugly fish But the rest of her was a girl Her toes were pink and rosy Her knees were blue and pale Her legs were a work of art And I loved that girl with all my heart I don't give a damn about the upper part And that's how I end my tale |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 04-14-2007, 07:57 AM ] |
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Author: | Mission Orange [ 04-16-2007, 10:56 AM ] |
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Author: | JackAce [ 04-16-2007, 05:12 PM ] |
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Quae Laetitia Let me show you my world See through the eyes on this girl Break these chains Wash away the stains Until nothing but a free mind remains Maybe then you will see What the beauty of life truely means Take my hand for the time we'll spend On this journey through a new wonderland Quae laetitia! Quae maganimitas eximia! Quae laetitia! Quae magnitudo et psalmodia! Celebrate! Jubilate! Celebrate vitam et libertatem! Celebrate! Jubilate! Ecce vita! There's no place around Where the beauty of life can't be found Hear the wind whisper tales and hymns Of a new dawn about to begin Quae laetitia! Quae maganimitas eximia! Quae laetitia! Quae magnitudo et psalmodia! Celebrate! Jubilate! Celebrate vitam et libertatem! Celebrate! Jubilate! Ecce vita! Leave you past behind Let go of the doubts in your mind Change your ways Here's the chance you craved For a new start with the cleanest of slates Quae laetitia! Quae maganimitas eximia! Quae laetitia! Quae magnitudo et psalmodia! Celebrate! Jubilate! Celebrate vitam et libertatem! Celebrate! Jubilate! Ecce vita! |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 04-16-2007, 05:51 PM ] |
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Rolling Down to Rio (Rudyard Kipling - Set to music by Tom Lewis.) I never sailed the Amazon And I never reached Brazil, But the Don and the Magdalena They can go there when they will, And weekly from Southampton Great steamers white and gold, Go rolling down to Rio, Roll down, roll down to Rio, And I'd like to roll to Rio someday before I'm old. I've never seen a jaguar Nor yet an armadill - o, A Dillo'ing in his armour, And I s'pose I never will-o, Unless I go to Rio, These wonders to behold, Go rolling down to Rio, roll really down to Rio, And I'd like to roll to Rio someday before I'm old. Yes I'd love to roll to Rio someday before I'm old. (One of my favorite songs in regards to Steampunk settings - Kipling is good for that.) Rio Grande (Traditional) Was you ever in Rio Grande? Heave away for Rio! It's there that the river flows down golden sand! And we're bound for the Rio Grande! Then away, boys, away, Away down Rio, So fare thee well, me Liverpool girls, We're bound for the Rio Grande. So it's pack up your sea-chest an' get underway, The girls we are leavin' can have our half-pay. Our ship went sailin' over the bar, We've pointed her bow to the southern stars. You Liverpool judies, we'll have you to know, We're bound to the south'ard and glad for to go. We're a Liverpool ship & a Liverpool crew, You can stick to the coast but I'm damned if we do! Goodbye to Ellen & Molly & Sue, You Park Lane Judies, it's goodbye to you. The Auld Grump, borrowed computer, + cable down due to storm. Connection ssslllooowww... |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 12-21-2007, 12:21 AM ] |
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Been a while - now for something Christmassy. Out on the River on Christmas Eve Bon fire on the bank, hard bend to the right. On the Lower Mississippi, full moon tonight. Where the Spanish moss hangs from the trees, Down in Louisiana, on Christmas Eve. That muddy water never quite comes clear, When I try to giver a reason why I wanna be here. Ain't you got no family, no place to be? Out on the river on Christmas Eve. See reflections on a clear, black night. Watching the shoreline come into sight. Wanna hear steam, just wanna feel wind. See the pitman arms come round again. That muddy water never quite comes clear, When I try to give a reason why I wanna be here. Ain't you got no family, no place to be? Out on the river on Christmas Eve. John Hartford |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 12-25-2007, 01:55 AM ] |
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And another steamer songs, Australian this time. The Outside Track THERE were ten of us there on the moonlit quay, And one on the for’ard hatch; No straighter mate to his mates than he Had ever said: ‘Len’s a match!’ ’Twill be long, old man, ere our glasses clink, ’Twill be long ere we grip your hand!— And we dragged him ashore for a final drink Till the whole wide world seemed grand. For they marry and go as the world rolls back, They marry and vanish and die; But their spirit shall live on the Outside Track As long as the years go by. The port-lights glowed in the morning mist That rolled from the waters green; And over the railing we grasped his fist As the dark tide came between. We cheered the captain and cheered the crew, And our mate, times out of mind; We cheered the land he was going to And the land he had left behind. We roared Lang Syne as a last farewell, But my heart seemed out of joint; I well remember the hush that fell When the steamer had passed the point We drifted home through the public bars, We were ten times less by one Who sailed out under the morning stars, And under the rising sun. And one by one, and two by two, They have sailed from the wharf since then; I have said good-bye to the last I knew, The last of the careless men. And I can’t but think that the times we had Were the best times after all, As I turn aside with a lonely glass And drink to the bar-room wall. But I’ll try my luck for a cheque Out Back, Then a last good-bye to the bush; For my heart’s away on the Outside Track, On the track of the steerage push. Henry Lawson The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 03-02-2008, 05:23 PM ] |
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Song of Fey Cross By Gwen Knighton © 1999 Outside of our town, at the edge of the forest Two roads come together, they call it Fey Cross And there at the crossroads, away from the roadside There's an odd mound of granite all covered with moss Chorus: Oh, soft is the pillow, all green and inviting Sweet is the sound of a new faerie tune But beware of the voices that call you to sleep there That call you to dream 'neath the light of the moon. The old people say there is music at Fey Cross Music to call travelers off of the road That calls them to sleep on the moss-covered hillside And dream of the magical music below The story is told of a sweet harper maiden Who longed to know more than her master bestowed She slept on the hill and the faeries sang to her The first night a dance and the second an ode Chorus Again and again she went back to the hillside Ignoring the warnings her elders implored Night after night, the fey songs touched her heartstrings: She learned them all greedily, longing for more Her voice rang like silver, her steps turned to marches She did her chores gladly in three-quarter time She stepped through the village and dreamed of the fey songs Of dancing, of chanting, of cadence and rhyme. Chorus Each night she slept out on the hill by the crossroads She stayed every night for a year and a day But one night, as she lay there peacefully dreaming A wee faerie bard came and whisked her away They sing of her still in the town at the crossroads The harper who longed to learn the fey songs And all of the children grow up with this warning: "Don't listen at all: you may listen to long." Chorus I see that you've slept seven nights on the hillside I know your blood sings with beautiful songs But hear now the voice of that foolish young harper Who listened, who listened, who listened too long. -Sung by the group - Three Weird Sisters Available on Last.FM |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 05-21-2008, 11:19 PM ] |
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Starting with a link to this one - Eric Bogle wrote this song as a memorial for Stan Rogers. . Have you stood by the ocean, on a diamond-hard morning And felt the horizon stir deep in your soul Watched the wake of a steamer as it cut through blue water And been gripped by a fever you just can't control Oh to throw off the shackles and fly with the seagulls To where green waves tumble before a driving sea wind Or to lie on the decking on a warm summer's evening Watch the red sun fall burning, be-neath the earth's rim CHORUS: But to every sailor, comes time to drop anchor Haul in the sails, and make the lines fast You deep water dreamer, your journey is over You're safe in the harbor at last You're safe in the harbor at last Some men are sailors, but most are just dreamers Held fast by the anchors they forge in their minds Who in their hearts know they'll never sail over deep water To search for a treasure they're afraid they won't find So in sheltered harbors, they cling to their anchors Bank down their boilers and shut down their steam And wait for the sailors to return with bright treasures That will fan the dull embers and fire up their dreams CHORUS: But to every sailor, comes time to drop anchor Haul in the sails, and make the lines fast You deep water dreamer, your journey is over You're safe in the harbor at last You're safe in the harbor at last And some men are schemers who laugh at the dreamers Take the gold from the sailors and turn it to dross They're men in a prison, they're men without vision Whose only horizon is profit and loss CHORUS: But to every sailor, comes time to drop anchor Haul in the sails, and make the lines fast You deep water dreamer, your journey is over You're safe in the harbor at last You're safe in the harbor at last So when storm clouds come sailing across your blue ocean Hold fast to your dreaming for all that you're worth For as long as there's dreamers, there will always be sailors Bringing back their bright treasures from the corners of earth The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 06-26-2008, 09:20 PM ] |
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I mentioned Tom Lewis on the celebrities thread. Here's one of my favorites among his songs - a song about changing ways.... The Last Shanty by Tom Lewis M' father often told me, when I was just a lad, A sailor's life was very hard, the food was always bad, But now I've joined the navy, I'm on board a man-o-war, And now I find a sailor ain't a sailor any more! Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast, If you see a sailing-ship it might be your last, Get your civvies ready for another run ashore, A sailor ain't a sailor ain't a sailor any more! The 'killick' of our mess, he says we've had it soft, It wasn't like this in his day, when he was up aloft, We like our bunks and sleeping bags but what's a hammock for? Swinging from the deckhead or lying on the floor? They gave us an engine that first went up and down, Then with more technology the engine went around, We're good with steam and diesel but what's a mainyard for? A stoker ain't a stoker with a shovel any more! They gave us an Aldis Lamp, we can do it right, They gave us a radio, we signal day and night, We know our codes and ciphers but what's a 'sema' for? A 'bunting-tosser' doesn't toss the bunting any more! They gave us a radar set to pierce the fog and gloom, So now the lookout's sitting in a tiny darkened room, Loran does navigation the Sonar says how deep, The Jimmy's 3 sheets to the wind, the Skipper's fast asleep. Two cans of beer a day, that's your bleeding lot! But now we gets an extra one because they stopped The Tot, So, we'll put on our civvy-clothes and find a pub ashore, A sailor's still a sailor, just like he was before! The Auld Grump |
Author: | Pall_S [ 09-27-2008, 02:03 AM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 09-27-2008, 02:35 PM ] |
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