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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: | TheAuldGrump [ 10-18-2008, 10:42 AM ] |
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I dreamed last night that Mat Lyon had made Hellworks V: The Iron Maiden (a soul driven steam train). And so.... (Lyrics in video not identical to the ones shown here - the lyrics I used were the ones sung by Pete Seeger.) On a Monday morning it begin to rain. 'Round the curve come a passenger train. On the blinds was Hobo John. He's a good old hobo, but he's dead and gone. Dead and gone, he's dead and gone. He's a good old hobo, but he's dead and gone. Jay Gould's daughter said before she died Papa, fix the blinds so the bums can't ride. If ride they must, they got to ride the rod. Let 'em put their trust in the hands of God. Hands of God Etc. Jay Gould's daughter said, before she died, There's two more trains I'd like to ride. Jay Gould said, "Daughter, what can they be ?" The Southern Pacific and the Santa Fe. The Santa Fe, etc. Jay Gould's daughter said, before she died, There's two more drinks I'd like to try. Jay Gould said, "Daughter what can they be? They's a glass o' water and a cup o' tea. A cup o' tea, etc. Charlie Snyder was a good engineer Told his fireman not to fear Pour on your water, boys, and shovel on your coal Stick your head out the window, see the drivers roll See the drivers roll, etc. The Auld Grump |
Author: | Rymark [ 11-27-2008, 12:03 AM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 12-08-2008, 09:30 PM ] |
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Reminds me a bit of the book Rude Tales and Glorious. (But worry not - I shall resist the urge to reply with The Ballad of Eskimo Nell....) Above I quoted a song by Tom Lewis. Tom Lewis in turn led me to the late Cyril Tawney - I just found out that Cyril Tawney died a few years back, so here are a couple of his songs. I lost my Tawney CDs a few years ago in a move. I am going to miss him. Don't mind the rain or the rolling sea The weary night never worries me But the hardest time in a sailor's day Is to watch the sun as it dies away Here's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line 2. The finest ship that sails the sea Is still a prison for the likes of me But give me wings like Noah's dove I'll fly up harbour to the girl I love Here's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line 3. O, once my heart was wild and free Like a flashing spar on the open sea But now that spar has washed ashore And come to rest at my true love's door Here's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line 4. Each time I gaze behind the screws Makes me long for Saint Peter's shoes I'd dance on down that Walker Shore And rest in my true love's arms once more Here's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line 5. O Lord if dreams were only real I'd feel my hands on that wooden wheel And with all my heart I'd turn her round And tell the boys that we're homeward bound Here's one more day on the Grey Funnel Line 6. I'll pass the time like some machine Until blue waters turn to green Then I'll dance on down that walk ashore And sail the Grey Funnel Line no more And sail the Grey Funnel Line no more Skipper in the wardroom drinkin' gin, Hey yo, chicken on a raft! I don't mind knockin', but I ain't goin' in! Hey yo, chicken on a raft! The jimmy's laughin' like it'd rain, Hey yo, chicken on a raft! He's lookin' at me comic cuts again! Hey yo, chicken on a raft! cho: Chicken on a raft on a Monday morning, Oh, what a terrible sight to see, Dabtoes forward and the dustmen aft, Sittin' there a'pickin' at a chicken on a raft! Hi, ho, chicken on a raft! Hey, ho, chicken on a raft! Hi, ho, chicken on a raft! Hey, ho, chicken on a raft! Gave me the middle and the forenoon too, Now I'm pullin' on a whalin' crew. Seagulls wheelin' overhead, I oughter be home in me featherbed! I had a little girl in Donny-B, And did she make a fool of me. Her heart was like a pusser's shower, Run hot to cold in a quarter of an hour! We kissed goodbye on a midnight bus, She didn't cry and she didn't fuss, Am I that one she loves the best, Or just a cuckoo in another man's nest? An amazon girl lived in Dumfries, Only had her kids in two's and three's, She's got a sister in Maryhill, Says she won't but I think she will! If I remember properly Tom Lewis once told an audience that 'Normally I would be singing a Cyril Tawney song at this point, but he never sings any of mine, so...' when a voice called from the audience 'I do to!' It has been entirely too long since I have listened to Tom Lewis in concert. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 12-31-2008, 09:54 PM ] |
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(Bob Watson) Oh the southern ocean is a lonely place Where the storms are many and the shelter's scarce Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn On the restless water and the troublin' skies You can see that mollymauk wheel and fly Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn Chorus: Won't you ride the wind and go, white seabird Won't you ride the wind and go, mollymauk Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn See the mollymauk floatin' on his wide white wings And lord, what a lonely song he sings Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn And he's got no compass and he's got no gear And there's none can tell you how the mollymauks steer Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn Chorus: He's the ghost of a sailor-man as I've heard say Who's body sank, and his soul flew away Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn And he's got no haven and he's got no home He's bound evermore for to wheel and roam Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn Chorus: When I gets too weary for to sail no more Let my bones sink better far away from shore Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn You can cast me loose and leave me driftin' free And I'll keep that big bird company Down upon the southern ocean sailing Down below Cape Horn Chorus: This is a song that I normally hear sung by Norris Dale of Roll & Go - I have been looking for the lyrics for years - only tonight to discover that I have been consistently misspelling Mollymauk. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 01-15-2009, 09:11 PM ] |
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This one I meant to put up for Christmas - Spirit Song of George's Bank Smile if you got a mind to or p'raps you'll lend an ear A boy and man together nigh on for forty years I have sailed across the waters from the western banks to grand I was in some herring vessel that went from Newfoundland And icy storms l tell you where t'ings looked kinda blue And then somehow or other l was lucky and got through But I’ll not brag however l won't say much but then I'm not much easier frightened then most of other men But one dreary night l speak of we were off of the shore a ways I never will forget it in all my mortal days When in my dim dark watch l felt a chilling dread It bowled me down as if l hard one calling from the dead When on the decks there clambered pale sailors one by one A dozen drippin' sailors just wait till l am done Right on the decks they clambered but not a voice was heard They moved about together but neither spoke a word Their faces pale and sea-wet shone ghostly through the night Each took his place as freely as if he had a right And Eastern worked the vessel till land was just in sight Or rather l should say sir the lighthouse tower's light And then those ghostly sailors moved through the rail again They vanished in the mist where sun can't shine on them I know not any reason in truth why they should come To navigate our vessel till land was just in sight They are the same poor fellows l hope God rest their souls Where our old ship ran under that time near George's shoals And now you've got my story it's just the way l say For l believes in spirits since that time anyway And in hopes that a certain ghostly Maiden appears on the horizon.... Song of an American Sailor (The Death-Ship) Oh hush your crying, honey dear The Jackson Square remains still here In sunny New Orleans In lovely Louisiana She thinks me buried in the sea She can no longer wait for me In sunny New Orleans, in lovely Louisiana I am not buried far at sea, The death-ship is now part of me So far from sunny New Orleans, So far from lovely Louisiana It is the death-ship I am in All have I lost, nothing to win So far from sunny New Orleans, So far from lovely Louisiana So hush your crying, honey dear I am not there, nor you are here So far from sunny New Orleans, So far from lovely Louisiana Both songs are on Gordon Bok's Schooners. There used to be You Tube videos of both songs, but they appear to have vanished. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 02-06-2009, 11:28 PM ] |
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- A long one, but a bit of grisly fun. Long enough that I am not going to copy all the lyrics, but.... Find him, bind him Tie him to a pole and break His fingers to splinters Drag him to a hole until he Wakes up naked Clawing at the ceiling Of his grave.... The Auld Grump |
Author: | Zenguy [ 02-07-2009, 01:30 PM ] |
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Monty Python's take on a sea shanty: |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 04-11-2009, 10:44 AM ] |
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BRAW SAILING There cam' a letter late yestreen The Ship maun sail the morn "Alas!" Cried the bonny lass That ever I was born Chorus And it's Braw sailing on the sea When wind and weather's fair It's better tae be in my love's airms An' oh, gin I were there And when he cam tae her faither's hoos At twelve o'clock at noon This lassie bein' prude hairted She wouldna let him in So he's ta'e a ring frae his pocket It cost him guineas three Sayin' "Tak ye that my bonnie lass An' aye think weel o'me" Then she's ta'en a ring frae her pocket It cost him shillings nine Sayin'"Tak ye that my bonnie lad For I ha'e changed my min'" An' it's braw drinkin' Glasgow beer It's better drinkin' wine It's better tae be in my love's airms Where I've been money's the time The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 04-12-2009, 11:09 PM ] |
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And from the other side - Eliza Carthy has updated the music, but the anger is straight from the traditional. (As a point - she actually dropped one word from the original lyrics, a word that rhymes with 'Brass'....) I may end up singing this with my girlfriend. Rolling Sea Don't you see the ships a-coming? Don't you see them in full sail? Don't you see the ships a-coming With the prizes at the tail? Chorus (after each verse): Oh my little rolling sailor, Oh my little rolling he; How I love my rolling sailor When he's on a rolling sea; When he's on a rolling, rolling, When he's on a rolling sea. Sailors they get all the money, Soldiers they get none but brass. How I love my rolling sailor, Soldiers they can kiss my ass. How can I be blithe and merry With my true love far from me? All this pretty little sailors, They've been pressed and tanged to sea. How I wish the press were over And the wars were at an end. Then every sailor laddie Would be happy with his friend. When the wars they are all over Peace and plenty come again; Everybody sailor laddie Will come sailing on the main. Oh, the wars will soon be over And the sailors once come home; Every lass will get a lad, She won't have to sleep alone. Traditional, dates back to the late 1700s. |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 05-30-2009, 07:01 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 08-24-2009, 06:32 PM ] |
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Another Cyril Tawney song - I went down to Sammy's Bar Hey, the last boat's a'leavin By the shore at Pieta Haul away the daighsoe And my real love, she was there There was sand all in her hair How did sand get in your hair Darling Johnny put it there Been with Johnny all the day Down at Ghajn Tuffheija Bay He's a better man by far Because he's got a Yankee car I went out from Sammy's Bar Had to hire a Yankee car Fourteen days I drank no wine Saving for that love of mine Then one day in Paula square At a paper I did stare Johnny tried a hairpin bend For my love, it was the end Going back to Sammy's Bar I don't need no Yankee car Demme, I wish that Cyril Tawney's CDs could be bought for reasonable prices, here in the States. The Auld Grump, not exactly a happy song, that. |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 10-18-2009, 09:41 PM ] |
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There are ships who's luck is... odd. This ship first ran into trouble before she was even launched - her planging frames scattered by a storm in 1850, and reassembled in the wrong order. She ran aground on her maiden voyage, in 1851. She was pulled free, but the impact had skewed her keel in an odd way. There are those who believed that this skew gave the ship the reputation that she had from that day forward - as the fastest clipper of her time, the . by Gordon Bok (Sung by Alistair Brown). I have done my share of carving figureheads of quaint design For the Olives and the Ruddicks and the famous Black Ball Line Brigantines and barks and clippers, brigs and schooners, lithe and tall But the bounding Marco Polo was the flower of them all. While my hands are steady, while my eyes are good, I will carve the music of the wind into the wood. I can see that white-winged clipper reeling under scudding clouds Tramping down a hazy skyline with a Norther in her shrouds I can feel her lines of beauty, see her flecked with spume and brine As she drives her scuppers under, and that figurehead of mine. 'Twas of seasoned pine I made it, clear from outer bark to core From the finest piece of timber, from the mast-pond on Straight Shore Every bite of axe or chisel, every ringing mallet welt Wrought from out that block of timber all the spirit that I felt. I had read of Marco Polo, til his daring deeds were mine And I say them all a-glowing in that balsam-scented pine Saw his eyes alight with purpose, facing every vagrant breeze Saw him lilting free and careless over all the seven seas. That was how I did my carving, beat of heart and stroke of hand Putting into life and action all the purpose that I planned Flowing robes and wind-tossed tresses, forms of beauty, strength, design I saw them all and tried to carve them in that figurehead of mine. And when my hands are feeble, and my outward eyes grow dim I will see again those clippers reeling o'er the ocean's rim Great white fleet of sailing rovers, wind above and surf beneath With the Marco Polo leading, and my carving in her teeth. She was built in New Brunswick, and took fifteen days to run from St. John to Liverpool. She returned to Liverpool, making thirty five days from Mobile, Alabama. She was purchased by the Black Ball Line, and ran from Liverpool to Melburne, as a cargo ship, then a passenger ship, and then again to carry cargo. She served for thirty years. The Marco Polo's a very fine ship Fastest on the sea On Australia's strand we soon will land Bully Forbes he can look for me Going to jump the ship in Melbourne town Going a digging gold There's a fortune found beneath the ground Where the eucalyptus grows Marco Polo, fastest on the sea Marco Polo, fastest on the sea Said the Blackball owner, Mr. Baines To Bully Forbes one day "It's up to you to keep your crew While the gold lures them away" Said Bully Forbes to mr. Baines "I have a plan so fine Leave it to me and you'll agree I'm the king of the Blackball Line" When we reached Australia's shore Bully Forbes declared, "There's scurvy On this trip you won't leave the ship Until we reach the Mersey" Now we lie in Salthouse dock I'll go to sea no more, sir Done me time on the Blackball Line And Captain Bully Forbes, sir She became the first ship to make a crossing from England to Australia in less than six months, being able to complete two crossings in a year. Blue Nose Line (Geoff Noble) Come listen to me story Of ships so proud and fine Of captains and of fishermen All from the Maritimes Great carpenters and craftsmen Who worked with skill and pride Built mighty ships of the bluenose line to sail the ocean wide cho: The Bluenose Line, the Bluenose Line Fastest ships in all the world To plow the stormy brine From Halifax to Yarmouth St. Johns to Charlotte town Great ships were built of oak and spruce To tame the ocean down With triple masts and triple decks The Marco Polo fine She was the fastest ship to sail for the mighty Blackball Line The Will-i-am D. Lawrence Ten thousand tons so fine She was the largest wooden ship Built in the Maritimes Eight thousand yard of sail she'd sport To catch the wind and fly Took storm and gale and wind and hail And high seas in her stride Four thousand and five hundred ships In Registry at one time With captains brave who knew the waves All from the Maritimes McKensie and Bill Laurence James Smith and Captain Wren Brave and disciplined they were In charge of many men The seas were ruled by bluenose ships All from the Eastern Shore The fastest way to travel In years counted in scores But then with steam and iron Cunard, who took the mail The bluenose ships were past their time Tho' they ruled the days of sail In 1883 she went down on Prince Edward's Island. Her wreck is considered a National Historic Site. There is currently a project underway to rebuild the Marco Polo, fastest ship on the ocean, though only at half scale. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 02-26-2010, 06:14 PM ] |
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Dedicated to Mission Orange - a tender ballad of a woman proclaiming her love for her Captain. Captain Morgan, that is. The Captain’s Wench I love ramble and I love to roam, But nevermore must I adventure alone. I met Captain Morgan one night at the war, And I’ll be the Captain’s wench evermore [Chorus] He’s better than lovers, ‘cause he’s always there, And when I get bitchy he just doesn’t care. He’s never too tired, he tells me no lies, So I’ll be the Captains wench ‘til I die! When seas are stormy, and skies are grey, And I need safe harbour to get through the day, The Captain is there for me, tasty and warm, So this Captain’s wench can weather the storm. [Chorus] Men come and go, they’re a troublesome lot. Most leave me cold, a few make me hot. But next to true love, it all fades away, So I’ll be the Captain’s wench all my days [Chorus] So I’ll be the Captain’s wench ‘til I die! My girlfriend and I were supposed to perform this at a St. Valentine's concert, but the concert was canceled due to electrical problems at the venue. The Auld Grump *EDIT* The Captain's Wench can be found |
Author: | Mission Orange [ 06-14-2010, 07:53 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 06-14-2010, 08:46 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 07-17-2010, 08:36 PM ] |
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I went to a concert tonight, picked up a few new ones. From the religious end, seldom heard these days. Sail O Believer, Sail. Sail, o believer, sail, Sail over yonder Sail, o my brothers, sail, Sail over yonder. Oh, brother, bear a hand, Sail over yonder; Come, brother, lend a hand, Sail over yonder. (CHO) Come view the Promised Land, Sail over yonder; Come view the Promised Land, Sail over yonder. (CHO) Oh, Mary, Mary weep, Sail over yonder; Bow low, Martha, Sail over yonder. (CHO) Oh my Lord coming down, Sail over yonder; And my Lord bars the door, Sail over yonder. (CHO) Oh my Lord coming down, Sail over yonder; Oh my Lord bears the key, Sail over yonder. (CHO)(2X) (Traditional gospel song from the Georgia Sea Islands, attributed to the Quimby family. ) Yet another song about the Marc Polo. Marco Polo Where the Marsh Creek waters meet Courtenay Bay – Heave her round and let her fly! The James Smith's yard a keel did lay – There's no ship here can match her! She was launched with a groaning thud – She's like a demon sailing by! She lay two weeks in the Marsh Creek mud – There's no ship here can catch her! Chorus: And it's Liverpool in fifteen days, The Seven Seas her name will praise; The wind in her hair and her sails unfurled, She's the fastest ship in all the world, And her name is Marco Polo! Her keel's all bent, she'll never sail Heave her round and let her fly! James Smith's hopes are doomed to fail There's no ship here can match her! She's heard the wrath, all the jeers and scorn She's like a demon sailing by! From such pain a legend's born There's no ship here can catch her! (CHO) To the Black Ball Line she soon was sold. Heave her round and let her fly! Australia bound, in search of gold. There's no ship here can match her! She was ruled with an iron hand, She's like a demon sailing by! When Bully Forbes was in command. There's no ship here can catch her! (CHO) Sixty-eight days to Melbourne town; Heave her round and let her fly! The waves will echo her renown. There's no ship here can match her! She's beaten packets run by steam She's like a demon sailing by! From James Smith's hopes to St. John's dream There's no ship here can catch her! (CHO) For thirty-two years she ran the tide. Heave her round and let her fly! On Cavendish Shoals she finally died. There's no ship here can match her! But dreams are much too hard to kill. She's like a demon sailing by! The Marco Polo's living still. There's no ship here can catch her! (CHO) (Composed by Jim Stewart, © 1988 Jim Stewart, SOCAN, used with permission. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 07-22-2010, 10:52 AM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 09-07-2010, 07:33 PM ] |
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A few poems of the end of the days of sail, by Canadian raised, but English born C. Fox Smith. They have since been set to music. Sailortown Along the wharves in sailor town a singing whisper goes Of the wind among the anchored ships, the wind that blows Off a broad brimming water, where the summer day has died Like a wounded whale a-sounding in the sunset tide. There's a big China liner gleaming like a gull, And her lit ports flashing; there's the long gaunt hull Of a Blue-Funnel freighter with her derricks dark and still; And a tall barque loading at the lumber mill. And in the shops of sailor town is every kind of thing That the sailormen buy there, or the ships' crews bring: Shackles for a sea-chest and pink cockatoos, Fifty-cent alarum clocks and dead men's shoes. You can hear the gulls crying, and the cheerful noise Of a concertina going, and a singer's voice — And the wind's song and the tide's song, crooning soft and low Rum old tunes in sailor town that seamen know. I dreamed a dream in sailor town, a foolish dream and vain, Of ships and men departed, of old days come again — And an old song in sailor town, an old song to sing When shipmate meets with shipmate in the evening. The Traveller I've loops o' string in the place o' buttons, I've mostly holes for a shirt; My boots are bust and my hat's a goner, I'm gritty with dust an' dirt; An' I'm sitting here on a bollard watching the China ships go forth, Seeing the black little tugs come sliding with timber booms from the North. Sitting and seeing the broad Pacific break at my feet in foam. Me that was born with a taste for travel in a back alley at home. They put me to school when I was a nipper at the Board School down in the slums, And some of the kids was good at spelling and some at figures and sums; And whether I went or whether I didn't they learned me nothing at all, Only I'd watch the flies go walking over the maps on the wall, Strolling over the lakes an' mountains, over the plains an' sea, — As if they was born with a taste for travel something the same as me! If I'd been born a rich man's youngster with lots o' money to burn, It wouldn't ha' gone in marble mansions and statues at every turn, It wouldn't ha' gone in wine and women, or dogs an' horses an' play, Nor yet in collecting bricks and bracks in a harmless kind of a way; I'd ha' paid my fare where I've beat my way (but I couldn't ha' liked it more!), Me that was born with a taste for travel — the same if you're rich or poor. I'd ha' gone bowling in yachts and rolling in plush padded Pullman cars, — The same as I've seen 'em when I lay resting at night-time under the stars, Me that have beat the ties and rode the bumpers from sea to sea, Me that have sweated in stokeholds and dined off mouldy salt-horse and tea; Me that have melted like grease at Perim and froze like boards off the Horn, All along of a taste for travel that was in me when I was born. I ain't got folks and I ain't got money, I ain't got nothing at all, But a sort of a queer old thirst that keeps me moving on till I fall, And many a time I've been short o' shelter and many a time o' grub, But I've got away from the rows o' houses, the streets, an' the corner pub — And here by the side of a sea that's shining under a sky like flame, Me that was born with a taste for travel, give thanks because o' the same. LUMBER If I'd got to choose alone One of all the freights I've known – All my cargoes live and dead, Bacon pigs and pigs of lead, Cattle, copra, rice and rails, Pilgrims, coolies, nitrates, nails, Lima beans and China teas – What do you think my pick would be? If I'd got to name the best – Take just one and leave the rest Out of all the ports I've known – Coral beaches white as bone, All the hot lands and the cold, Nights of stars and moons like gold, Tropic smells and Spanish wine, Whispering palm and singing pine, All the isles of all the sea – Where do you think I'd want to be? Loading lumber long ago In a ship I used to know, With the bow-ports open wide In her stained and rusted side, And the saws a-screaming shrill At the Steveston lumber-mill; Where the Fraser floods and flows Green and cold with melting snows, And the tow-boats' wailing din, As the booms come crawling in, Fills the echoing creeks with sound, And there's sawdust all around, Deep and soft like drifted snow; Nowhere much a man can go, Nothing much to see or do, Mouldiest burg you ever knew… But I'd give the years between – All I've done and all I've seen, All the fooling and the fun, All the chances lost and won, All the good times and the bad, All the memories sweet and sad, Far and near, by shore and sea, I would give them all to be Loading lumber years ago With the lads I used to know – Loading lumber all day long Stacks of scented deals among – Loading lumber at the mill Till the screaming saws were still, And the rose-red sunset died From the mountains and the tide, And the night brought out its stars, And the wind's song in the spars Of that ship I used to know – Loading lumber, long ago. Morgan le Fay I will put by my violent days, and the ill deeds that I have wrought, All wayward sins of a wild heart, all empty joys I sought, I will forswear the fruitless year and the deedless day, And the long gold tresses and false caresses of Morgan le Fay. The songs are hollow and empty: the wine is down to the lees: I am full sick of the witching dance and unclean mysteries: And the palace of magic and wonder just an ill shadow seems, Wild feats and vile faces out of evil dreams. There shall no sleep come nigh me all through the long night, Where I watch mine arms alone for a space ere I ride forth to fight, Alone with the cold altar and the cross of my slain Lord, With the stark helm and the grey mail and the cross-hilted sword. I have bound the spur to my heel again; I have rent the past like a scroll: In the bitter waters of sorrow will I wash clean my soul. I have put by the worthless world and the deedless day, And the long gold tresses and false caresses of Morgan le Fay. Cicely Fox Smith 1882-1954 was compared to the likes of Kipling, Stevenson, and Service. Her poems are largely forgotten today, but are being rediscovered, and set to music. All poems brutally pillaged from the website. The Auld Grump |
Author: | Mission Orange [ 12-05-2010, 10:31 AM ] |
Post subject: | That Orbed Maiden |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 12-29-2010, 01:26 AM ] |
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Hanging Johnny Well, they call me hanging Johnny, yay-hay-i-o I never hanged nobody And it's hang, boys, hang Well, first I hanged your mother away-hay-i-o Me sister and me brother And it's hang, boys, hang Well, I’d hang to make things jolly yay-hay-i-o I’d hang all wrong and folly And it's hang, boys, hang A rope, a beam, a ladder, I'll hang ye all together Well next I hanged me granny I’d hang the holy family Well, they call me hanging Johnny, yay-hay-i-o I never hanged nobody And it's hang, boys, hang And it's hang, boys, hang -Hum- yay-hay-i-o -Hum- And it's hang, boys, hang Come hang, come haul together, Come hang for finer weather, Hang on from the yardarm Hang the sea and buy a big farm Well, they call me hanging Johnny, yay-hay-i-o I never hanged nobody And it's hang, boys, hang Well, I'd hang the mates and skippers, yay-hay-i-o I'd hang 'em by their flippers hang, boys, hang Well, I'd hang the highway robber, yay-hay-i-o I'd hang the burglar jobber; And it's hang, boys, hang Well, I'd hang a noted liar, yay-hay-i-o I'd hang a bloated friar; And it's hang, boys, hang Well, they say I hung a copper, yay-hay-i-o I gave him the long dropper And it's hang, boys, hang <object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/K9QQyRF5hMw?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/K9QQyRF5hMw?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object> The Auld Grump - believe it or not there are dirty versions of this.... |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 03-23-2011, 01:54 PM ] |
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It has taken me a long time to find this, only to get the answer handed to me by Woozy in the comments section of , much thanks to Woozy for this! 1 Poling up the river in a three-hand boat, Too deep to carry, too shallow to float (x2) * Refrain: If it doesn’t lift your spirits, it’ll leave you numb, Best cure for the river is a bottle of rum (x2) 2 Listen to the forwarder struttin’ up the quay, Quick to tell a boatman how the river will be, Got to tell a boatman how the river will be. * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, it’ll leave you numb, Best cure for the forwarder’s… 3 Workin’ up the rift, the current swung her ‘ round, Bedbugs swum ashore, poor boatman nearly got drowned (x2) * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, it’ll leave you numb, Best cure ... 4 Sweatin’ in the heat of day, chillin’ in the rain, Sleepin’ in the open, got the ague again (x2) * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, ... 5 Frostbite in November took my toes away, Devil take the black fly ‘bout the last week in May (x2) * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, ... 6 Sweet Annie of Schenectady, she broke my heart, Her face is in the fire-light, the river sings her part (x2) * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, ... Best cure for a woman is ... 7 Got a callus on my shoulder and my hands are raw, Sweetest sight some thirsty frontier maid ever saw (x2) * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, ... Best cure for wisdom is ... 8 I fought all through this wilderness in ’59; I still fancy I see shadows movin’ time after time (x2) * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, well, it leaves you numb, Best cure for shadows is ... Only cure for shadows is ... 9 Morning comes up early for a fast batteau, Shoulder to your settin’ pole, you push off and go (x2) * If it doesn’t lift your spirits, well, it leaves you numb, There ain’t no cure for livin’ in a bottle of rum. ain’t no cure for livin’ in a bottle of rum. Not the version I heard, but I suspect mine had gone for a few rounds in the folk circuit - raw edges worn off, words substituted, the music changed a wee bit. '59 is 1759, for those who wonder. The version I heard started with : You know you'll hate to leave her when the mornin' come, Best cure for the woman is a bottle of rum. If it doesn't make you happy, It'll leave you numb, Best cure for the woman is a bottle of rum. Best cure for the woman is a bottle of rum. There's a man down on the levy 'neath the mornin' sun, Mighty quick to tell you how the river will run. Quick to tell a boatman how the river will run. If it doesn't make you happy, it'll leave you numb, Best cure for the foreman is a bottle of rum. Best cure for the foreman is a bottle of rum. But I am pretty sure that the version Woozy found is the original. Busy buying Mr. Ward's albums on CD Baby. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 06-26-2011, 11:56 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 08-15-2011, 08:21 PM ] |
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Been a while, and so.... STAND WITH ME, BOYS (Mark Sisti) We sailed out from the island the way we have for years The sea was calm the sun was bright the sky was blue and clear It’s a lovely day to sail I said looking to the sea But captain he just frowned and said those clouds they worry me We’d been at sea for two days when the winds they turned around The sky turned black the thunder cracked the rain came crashing down We cannot see the shoreline, we’ve got no place to run We’ll have to ride it out right here until the storm is done CHORUS And it’s stand with me boys Though the wind blows bitter cold Or the sea will claim your body as the devil claims your soul The first mate says to me it’s just two weeks since I wed Mary begged me not to sail, not to leave my wedding bed And I’m not afraid of dying It holds no fear for me But I’d rather not go down below in another sailor’s sea Chorus Just then we heard the bells, saw the lighthouse through the haze we struggled for the distant shore as the lightning brightly blazed We stumbled to the port and we kissed the solid ground As the final man set foot on land the brave old ship went down We sought the lighthouse keeper so that we could thank the man They said, the keeper died this morn, just as the storm began. There’s been no one to shine the light, no one to ring the bell I guess someone wants you here more than they wanted you in hell Chorus Can be downloaded free as part of the from 10 March 2011 (and other episodes as well - it is fairly popular). Sung by the . The Auld Grump |
Author: | K4g3ryu [ 08-16-2011, 01:47 AM ] |
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quite honestly one of my favorite songs I have ever heard on that. |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 09-03-2011, 10:02 PM ] |
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Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 10-02-2011, 05:13 PM ] |
Post subject: | Re: The Fair Maid(en) is a Maiden of Beauty Fair |
Learned this one as a kid. Oh, have you heard the news, me Johnny One more day We're homeward bound tomorrow One more day Only one more day, me Johnny One more day Oh, rock and roll me over One more day Don't you hear the old man growlin' Don't you hear the mate a howlin' Don't you hear the caps'n pawlin' Don't you hear the pilot bawlin' Only one more day a-howlin' Can't you hear the gals a-callin' Only one more day a-rollin' Can't you hear the gulls a-callin' Only one more day a-furlin' Only one more day a-cursin' Oh, heave and sight the anchor, Johnny For we're close aboard the port, Johnny Only one more day for Johnny And your pay-day's nearly due, Johnny Then put out your long-tail blue, Johnny Make your port and take your pay, Johnny Only one more day a-pumpin', Johnny Only one more day a-bracin' Oh, we're homeward bound today, Johnny We'll leave her without sorrow, Johnny Pack your bags today me Johnny Oh, an' leave her where she lies, Johnny Only one more day a-workin', Johnny Oh, come rock 'n' roll me over No more gales or heavy weather Only one more day together A song about the days of sail being over, and yet.... Lyrics in the video. ...Some things don't change. The Day Of The Clipper: You can see the squares of canvas dancing over the horizon You can feel the chanty wailing to the heaving of the men You can feel the seas up to your knees and you know the sea is rising And you know the clipper's day has come again To the men on high, the bosun's cry commands a killing strain Till every mother's son begins to pray With a hearty shout, she comes about as she heads into the rain And the ship has never seen a better day Chorus: Sailing ships and sailing men will sail the open waters Where the only thing that matters is the wind inside the main So all you loving mothers keep your eyes upon your daughters For the sails will mend their tatters and the masts will rise again Wooden beams and human dreams are all that makes her go And the magic of the wind upon her sails She'd rather fight the weather than the fishes down below God help us if the rigging ever fails As the timber creaks, the captain speaks above the vessel's groan 'Til every soul on board can hear the call It's nothing but the singing of the ship inside her bones And this is when she like it best of all Where the current goes, the clipper's nose is plowing fields of green Where fortune takes the crews, we wish them well Where men could be when lost at sea is somewhere in between The regions of a heaven and a hell Well, they're sailing eastern harbors and the California shores If you set your mind to see them them you can As you count each mast go sailing past you prouder than before Then you'll know the clipper's day has come again The number of tall ships has been climbing over the last thirty years. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 06-08-2012, 04:15 PM ] |
Post subject: | Re: The Fair Maid(en) is a Maiden of Beauty Fair |
An unexpected find - It doesn't say, but I am pretty certain that the singer is Captain Kendall Morse. What I am certain of is the folks wearing the blue and white striped shirts - I used to sing with those people! Nor, Eli, Charlie.... The Auld Grump |
Author: | greypilgrim [ 06-09-2012, 10:37 AM ] |
Post subject: | Re: The Fair Maid(en) is a Maiden of Beauty Fair |
Marvey! Thanks for sharing! |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 12-05-2013, 10:57 PM ] |
Post subject: | Re: The Fair Maid(en) is a Maiden of Beauty Fair |
The works of the late Cyril Tawney continue to be hard come by here in the States. Here is one of his songs that is not about a Maiden, but is,rather, about a Lady - The Cheering of the Queen: CHEERING THE QUEEN (Cyril Tawney) It happened on a Summer's day in nineteen fifty-four, We went to greet Her Majesty a-comin' from the Tour. cho: On a British submarine, on a British submarine, When sixty solid sailors went cheering of the Queen. Their Lordships said "Now cheer, me boys, but mind you make it smart, There's nothing looks so ragged as the cheering from your heart." Well, when we saw the signal boys, it made our innards freeze "On the order 'one' you hold your hats at forty-five degrees." "At forty-five degrees", me boys, that's what their lordships said, "On the order 'two' you wave your hats three times around your head." "And when you go to shout, me boys, be careful what you say, The word you use for cheerin' is Hurrah, not Hooray." We sailed towards Britannia, boys, the finest ever seen, But every man was standing like a petrified marine. But when we reached the moment, boys, that every skipper dreads A swarm of gnats as big as bats descended on our heads. The boat was filled with wavin' arms and the air was filled with cries As every man cursed and fought to keep' em from his eyes. The Duke he scratched his head as he watched us slowly part "That's the first time I've seen sailor boys cheerin' from their hearts." We waved our way across the bay till we were out of sight We waved our way all through the day and on into the night. Ah! the day we met the Queen, me boys, the day I won't forget If we hadn't dived to ninety feet we'd all be wavin' yet. Cyril Tawney wrote songs about the British Navy submarines. The Auld Grump |
Author: | TheAuldGrump [ 05-19-2014, 08:31 PM ] |
Post subject: | Re: The Fair Maid(en) is a Maiden of Beauty Fair |
Been a while, so... A lady of another sort - not a fast lady, but powerful, too slow even for most freight, but able to haul lesser engines back on the rails - only one of her kind, first and last of her line: Big Bertha I first heard this song on a children's record, back in the early seventies. The Auld Grump |
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