Traditional

à la Swan Arcade

Ballad Index Dett002

Hail the year so long expected!

Hail the day of full release!

Zion’s walls are now erected,

And the watchmen publish peace:

Throughout Shilog’s wide dominions

Hear the trumpet loudly roar.

Babylon is fallen, is fallen, is fallen!

Babylon is fallen to rise no more!

Babylon is fallen, is fallen, is fallen!

Babylon is fallen to rise no more!

All her merchants stand with wonder,

“What is this that comes to pass?”

Murm’ring like the distant thunder, and

Crying “Oh alas, alas”

Swell the sound, ye kings and nobles!

Priests and people, rich and poor!

Lo, the captives are returning!

Up to Zion see them fly!

While the smoke of Babel’s burning

Rolls across the darken’d sky!

Days of mourning now are ended,

Years of bondage now are o’er,

Blow the trumpet in Mount Zion,

Christ is come a second time:

Ruling with a rod of iron

All who now as foes combine.

Babel’s garments we’ve rejected,

And our fellowship is o’er.

Traditional

à la The Young Tradition

Ballad Index LN40

’Twas on one summer’s evening all in the month of May

Down by a flowery garden where Betsy she did stray.

I overheard this fair maid in sorrow to complain,

All for her absent lover who ploughs the raging main.

I stepped up to this fair maid and put her in surprise,

I owned she did not know me, I being all in disguise.

Said I, “My charming creature, my joy and heart’s delight,

How far have you to travel this dark and rainy night?”

“Away, kind sir, to the Claudy banks if you will please to show,

Pity a poor girl distracted, it’s there I have to go.

I’m a-looking for a young man and Johnny is his name,

And I’m told it’s there on Claudy banks today he do remain.”

“If my Johnny he was here this night he’d keep me from all harm,

But he’s cruising the wide ocean in tempest and in storm,

He’s a-cruising the wide ocean for honour and for gain.”

“But I’m told his ship got wreck-ed all on the coast of Spain.”

Now when she heard this dreadful news she fell into despair,

All wringing of her hands and a-tearing of her hair.

“Since my Johnny’s gone and left me no man on earth I’ll take,

But it’s all my life on Claudy banks I’ll wander for his sake.”

Now Johnny hearing her say so he could no longer stand,

He fell into her arms crying, “Betsy, I’m that man,

I am that faithful young man and whom you thought was slain,

And since we’ve met on Claudy banks we’ll never part again.”

Traditional

à la The Young Traditional

Ballad Index LN09

“Oh hark! the drums are beating and I must haste away,

The bugles sweetly sound and I can no longer stay.

We are going up to Portsmouth, and it’s many a weary mile

To fight the blacks and heathens on the banks of the Nile.”

“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 from you, Willie, is like parting from my life.

Oh stay at home, dear William, and I will be thee wife.”

“Oh, I’ll cut off my yellow hair and go along with you.

I’ll dress myself in velveteen and go and see Egypt too.

I’ll fight and hold thee banner, love, and fortune it may smile,

And we’ll gather love and honor on the banks of the Nile.”

“Your waist it is too slender, your features are too fine.

Your body is to weak, my love, to spend a long campaign.

The sultry suns of Egypt your precious self may spoil

And the sandy desert wastes on the banks of the Nile.”

“Oh, cursed, cursed be the day that e’er the wars began,

For they’ve taken out of England for may a fine young men.

Our lads are going to perish on that unwholesome soil

And they never will return from the banks of the Nile.”

Traditional

à la Jean Ritchie

Ballad Index C084

All in the merry month of May

When the green buds they were swellin’,

Young William Green on his death bed lay

For the love of Barbary Allen.

He sent his servant to the town

To the place where she was dwellin’,

Sayin’, “Masters’s sick and he sends for you

If your name be Barbary Allen.”

So slowly, slowly she got up

And slowly she came a-nigh him,

And all she said when she got there,

“Young man, I believe you’re dyin’.”

“O yes, I’m low, I’m very low,

And death is in me dwellin’,

No better, no better I’ll never be

If I can’t get Barbary Allen.”

“O yes, you’re low and very low,

And death is on you dwellin’,

No better, no better you’ll never be

For you can’t get Barbary Allen.

“For don’t you remember in yonder’s town

In yonder’s town a-drinkin’,

You passed your glass all around and around

And you slighted Barbary Allen.”

“O yes I remember in yonder’s town

In yonder’s town a-drinkin’

I gave my health to the ladies all around

But my heart to Barbara Allen.”

He turned his pale face to the wall,

For death on him was dwellin’.

“Adieu, adieu, you good neighbours all,

Adieu, sweet Barbara Allen.”

As she was goin’ across the fields

She heard those death bells a-knellin’,

And every stroke the death bell give,

“Hard-hearted Barbary Allen”.

“O mother, o mother, go make my bed,

Go make make it both long and narrow.

Young William’s died for me today

And I’ll die for him tomorrow.”

O she was buried near the old church tower

And he was buried a-nigh her,

And out of his bosom grew a red, red rose,

Out of Barbary’s grew a green briar.

They grew and they grew up the old church tower,

Until they could grow no higher.

They locked and tied in a true lover’s knot,

Red rose wrapped around the green briar.

Stan Rogers

Oh, the year was 1778

How I wish I was 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

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

For twenty brave men, all fishermen, who

Would make for him the Antelope's crew

The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

She'd a list to the port and her sails in rags

And the cook in the scuppers with the staggers and jags

On the King's birthday, we put to sea

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

We were ninety-one days to Montego Bay

Pumping like madmen all the way

On the ninety-sixth day, we sailed again

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

When a bloody great Yankee hove in sight

With our cracked four pounders, we made to fight

The Yankee lay low down with gold

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

She was broad and fat and loose in the stays

But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days

Then at length, we stood two cables away

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

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

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs

And the main truck carried off both me legs

So here I lay in my twenty-third year

How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now

It's been six years since we sailed away

And I just made Halifax yesterday

Traditional

Been in storm so long

Singing, been in the storm so long

Singing, Oh Lord, give me more time to pray

Feel like a motherless child

Singing, feel like a motherless child

Singing, Oh Lord, give me more time to pray

This is a needy time

Singing, this is a needy time

Singing, Oh Lord, give me more time to pray

Lord I need you now

Singing, Lord I need you now

Singing, Oh Lord, give me more time to pray

Been in the storm so long

Singing, been in the storm so long

Singing, Oh Lord, give me more time to pray

Traditional

Joys are flowing like a river

Since the comforter has come

He abides with us forever

Makes the trusting heart his home

Blessed quietness

Holy quietness

What assurance in my soul

On the stormy sea

Speaking peace to me

How the billows cease to roll

Like the falling rain from heaven

Like the sunlight from the sky

So the Holy Ghost is given

Falling on us from on high

See a fruitful field is growing

Blessed fruits of righteousness

And the streams of life are flowing

In the lonely wilderness

What a wonderful salvation

Where we always see his face

What a peaceful habitation

What a quiet resting place

Our boots and clothes is all in pawn

And its flamin’ drafty ’round Cape Horn,

It’s ’round that cape we all must go

Around all stiff through the frost and snow.

Oh my old mother, she wrote to me,

My dearest son, come home from sea.

It’s growl you may, but go you must,

If you growl too hard your head they’ll bust.

Just one more pull and that will do

For we’re the boys to kick her through.

Traditional
Ballad Index LxU044

Tis advertised in Boston, New York, and Buffalo
Five hundred brave Americans a-whaling for to go

They’ll send you to New Bedford that famous whaling port

They’ll give you to some land sharks who’ll board and fit you out

They’ll send you to a boarding house for there a time to dwell

The thieves there are thicker than the other side of hell

They’ll tell you of the clipper ships a whalin’in and out

They’ll say you’ll take five hundred sperm before you’re six months out

It’s devils for your company if you’ll take my advice

You’ll keep what cash ye have from dancing with the cards and dice

Now comes the running rigging which you’re all supposed to know

Tis “Lay aloft, ye son of a dog, or overboard ye go!”

The skipper’s on the quarter deck a squinting at the sails

When up aloft the lookout spies a mighty school of whales

“Now clear away the boats me boys and after him we’ll travel,

But if you get too near his fluke he’ll kick you to the devil!”

Now here we’ve got him turn-ned up we’ll tow him alongside

We’ll over with our blubber-hooks and rob him of his hide

Traditional
à la The Young Tradition
Ballad Index LO24

As I walked out one May morning

Down by the riverside,

There I beheld a bold fisherman

Come rowing by the tide,

Come rowing by the tide;

There I beheld a bold fisherman

Come rowing by the tide.

“Good morning to you, my bold fisherman,

How come you fishing here?”

“I come here a-fishing for your sweet sake

All on this river clear,

All on this river... etc.

He drew his boat unto the bank

And for her mate did went,

He took her by the lily-white hand

Which was his full intent,

He took the cloak from off his back

And gently laid it down,

There she behold three chains of gold

Hang dangling three times round,

She fell down on her bended knee,

For mercy she implored,

“In calling you a bold fisherman

When I fear you are some lord,

“Rise up, rise up, my fair young maid,

From off your bended knee.

There is not one word that you have said

That has offended me,

He took her by the lily-white hand,

Saying: “Married we shall be,

Then you will have a bold fisherman

To row you on the sea,

Ballad Index Doe006

Boney was a warrior

A warrior, a terrier,

Boney went to school in France

Learnt the Russians how to dance

Boney fought the Russians, (Roo-shi-ans)

The Austrians, the Prussians (sim.)

The Pope would crown him king of France

But he snatched it when he got the chance

We met him in Trafalgar Bay,

Carried his top-mast away.

Boney went Moscow

Lost his army in the snow

Moscow was a-blazin’,

And Boney was a-ragin’.

Boney went to Elba, (El-bow)

There he spent his overthrow overthrow

’Twas on the plains of Waterloo,

He met the boys who put him through.

He beat the Russians fairly,

He beat the English, nearly.

He met the Duke of Wellington,

That day his downfall had begun.

Boney went a-cruisin’,

Aboard the Billy Ruffian. (ie. the H.M.S. Bellerophon)

Away in St. Helena, (A-lee-ay-na)

Boney broke his heart and died.

He was a ruddy general,

A ruddy, snotty general.

Boney was a warrior!

A warrior, a terrier!

A bonnie green boat

More than that a home

My love of water has steadily grown

It’s naught that I mind

Living on the tide

And watching the waves as I casually float

A catch on the waves

These watercress days

Upstream of all the locations I hate

As free as a fish

I do what I wish

I haven’t left pond now in this makes two days

This innocent patch

Of water and grass

Soli’try paddling but this too shall pass

As people move in

Like salty sea wind

I’m riding high tide over sultry morass

A trip to sea strand

I never had planned

These suburban vagabonds forcing my hand

Riparian zone

Flies by on its own

An effortless trespass in sailing to sand

From Boston Harbor we set sail

It was blowing a devil of a gale

And with our ringtail set o’er the vastness and peak

And our old Britannia plowing up the deep

Then up comes the skipper from down below

And it’s look aloft lads look alow

And it’s look alow and it’s look aloft

And coil up your ropes lads fore and aft

Then down to his cabin well he quickly crawls

And to his poor old steward bawls

Go and mix me a glass that’ll make me cough

Because it’s better weather here than it is on top

Well there is one thing that we did crave

To reach the top of that mountain of a wave

And when we reach the top with the clouds below

We pause for a moment while the thunder rolls.

Traditional

Ballad Index Shel089

Bright morning stars are rising (x3)

Day is a-breaking in my soul

Oh, where are our dear fathers? (x3)

Day is a-breaking in my soul

Some are down in the valley praying (x3)

Day is a-breaking in my soul

Oh, where are our dear mothers? (x3)

Day is a-breaking in my soul

Some are gone to heaven shouting (x3)

Day is a-breaking in my soul

Traditional

à la Ralph Stanley

Ballad Index Shel089

Bright morning stars are rising

Bright morning stars are rising

Bright morning stars are rising

Day is a-breaking in soul

Oh where are our fathers

Oh where are our fathers

They are down in the valley a-praying

Day is a-breaking in my soul

Oh where are our dear Mothers

Oh where are our dear Mothers

The are gone to heaven a-shouting

Day is a-breaking in my soul

Bright morning stars are rising

Bright morning stars are rising

Bright morning stars are rising

Day is a-breaking in soul

à la The Young Tradition

In Liverpool I was born

New London is me home from home

And 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

At the coast of Vallipo

Northward to Callao

Them Callao girls I do adore

They take it all and ask for more

Vallipo girls put on a show

They waggle their arse with a roll and go!

It’s back to Liverpool

I spend my pay like a bloody fool

Them Liverpool girls I do admire

They set your riggin’ all a-fire

I’m Liverpool born and bred

Strong in the arm and thick in the head

Up come and roll me over, boys

Let’s get this damn job over, boys!

Traditional

à la The Kingston Trio

High on the mountain and down in the valley below

It shines like the crown of an angel and fades as the mist comes and goes

Way over yonder, night after night until dawn

A faithful old slave, come back from the grave searching

For his master who is long, long gone

In the days of the old covered wagon, when they camped on the flats for the night

With the stars growing dim on the old high gorge rim, they would watch for the Brown Mountain Light

Long years ago a southern planter came hunting in these wild lands alone

And here, so they say, the hunter lost his way and never returned to his home

His trusty old slave brought a lantern and searched, but in vain, day and night

The old slave is gone but his spirit wanders on and the old lantern still casts its light

Well help me, Bob I’m bully in the alley

Help me Bob I’m bully in the alley

Well Sally is the girl that I love dearly

Sally is the girl that I spliced nearly

For seven long years I courted Sally

All she did was dilly dally

Well I’ll leave Sal and I’ll become a sailor

I’ll leave Sal and ship upon a whaler

Take in yer lines and make her fast boys

Drop in the pawls, we’ve heaved enough now

I’ll come back and marry Sally

We’ll have kids and count ‘em by the tally

Traditional

à la The Young Tradition

Ballad Index DTbykerh

If I had another penny,

I would have another gill;

I would make the piper play

The Bonny Lads o’ Byker Hill.

Byker Hill and Walker Shore,

Collier lads for evermore!

Byker Hill and Walker Shore,

Collier lads for evermore!

The pitman and the keelman trim,

They drink bumble made from gin.

Then to dance they do begin

To the tune of Elsie Marley.

When first I went down to the dirt

I had no cowl nor no pitshirt

Now I’ve gotten two or three

Walker Pit’s done well by me

Geordie Charlton, he had a pig,

He hit it with a shovel and it danced a jig,

All the way to Walker Shore

To the tune of Elsie Marley.

Cyril Tawney

Skipper’s in the wardroom drinking gin,

Hey-o, chicken on a raft!

I don’t mind knocking, but I ain’t a-going in!

Hey-o, chicken on a raft!

Jimmy’s laughing like a drain,

Hey-o, chicken on a raft!

Been lookin’ at my comic cuts again,

Hey-o, chicken on a raft!

Chicken on a raft on a Monday morning,

Oh, what a terrible sight to see,

Dabtoes forrard and the dustmen aft,

Sittin’ there a-pickin’ at a chicken on a raft!

Hey-o, chicken on a raft!

Oy-o, chicken on a raft!

Hey-o, chicken on a raft!

Oy-o, chicken on a raft!

Well, they gave me the middle and the forenoon too,

So now I’m pullin’ in a whalin’ crew.

There’s a seagull wheelin’ overhead,

I oughtta be sleepin’ in a feather bed!

Well, I had a little girl in Donny B

And did she make a fool of me.

Her heart ’twas like a pusser’s shower,

From hot to cold in a quarter of an hour!

So we kissed goodbye on the midnight bus

But she didn’t cry and she didn’t fuss.

So am I the man what she loves best

Or am I just a cuckoo in another man’s nest?

An Amazon girl lived in Dumfries,

She only had her kids in twos and threes;

Her sister lives in Maryhill,

She says she won’t but I think she will!

Blaze Foley

I'm going down to the Greyhound station

Gonna get a ticket to ride

Gonna find a lady with two or three kids

And sit down by her side

And ride until the sun comes up and down around me about two or three times

Smoking cigarettes in the last seat

Trying to hide my sorrow from the people I meet

And get along with it all

Go down where people say y'all

Sing a song with a friend

Change the shape that I'm in

And get back in the game

And start playing again

I'd like to stay but I might have to go to start over again

I might go back down to Texas

I might go somewhere that I never been

And get up in the morning and go out at night

And I won't have to go home

Get used to being alone

Change the words to this song

And start singing again

I'm tired of running round

Looking for answers to questions that I already know

I could build me a castle of memories

Just to have somewhere to go

Count the days and the nights that it takes

To get back in the saddle again

Feed the pigeons some clay

Turn the night into day

Start talking again when I know what to say

I'm going down to the Greyhound station

Gonna get a ticket to ride

Gonna find a lady with two or three kids

And sit down by her side

And ride until the sun comes up and down around me about two or three times

Smoking cigarettes in the last seat

Trying to hide my sorrow from the people I meet

And get along with it all

Go down where people say y'all

Feed the pigeons some clay

Turn the night into day

Start talking again when I know what to say

Traditional

Lord I’m climbing high mountains trying to get home

Lord I’m climbing high mountains trying to get home

Lord I’m climbing high mountains,

Climbing high mountains

Lord I’m climbing high mountains trying to get home

Lord I’m bearing my burdens trying to get home

Lord I’m… etc.

Lord I’m having hard trials trying to get home

Lord my way’s sometimes weary trying to get home

Lord I’m climbing high mountains trying to get home

à la The Watersons

In spring we sow, at the harvest mow,

And that is how the seasons round they go.

But if all the times if choose I may

’twould be rambling through the new-mown hay.

In winter when the sky is grey

We hedge and ditch our times away;

But in the summer when the sun shines gay

We go rambling through the new-mown hay.

Sunset and evening star

And one clear call for me

And may there be no moaning of the bar

When I put out to sea

But such a tide as moving seems asleep

Too full for sound and foam

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home

Twilight and evening bell

And after that the dark

And may there be no sadness of farewell

When I embark

For though from out our bourne of time and place

The flood may bear me far

I hope to see my pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar

I met my love by the gas works wall

Dreamed a dream by the old canal

I kissed my girl by the factory wall

In this dirty old town, in this dirty old town

Clouds are drifting across the moon

Cats are prowling on their beat

Spring's a girl from the streets at night

In this dirty old town, in this dirty old town

I heard a siren from the docks

Saw a train set the night on fire

I smelled the spring on the smoky wind

In this dirty old town, in this dirty old town

I'm gonna make me a big sharp axe

Shining steel tempered in the fire

I'll chop you down like an old dead tree

In this dirty old town, in this dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall

Dreamed a dream by the old canal

I kissed my girl by the factory wall

In this dirty old town, in this dirty old town

In this dirty old town, in this dirty old town

Roud V23285

Safe and sound at home again

Let the waters roll, Jack

Safe and sound at home again

Let the waters roll, Jack

Since we sailed from Plymouth Sound

Four years gone or nigh Jack

Was there ever chummies now

Such as you and I, Jack

We have worked the selfsame gun

Quarterdeck division

Sponger I and loader you

Through the whole commission

Oftentimes have we laid out

Toil nor danger fearing

Tugging out the flapping sail

To the weather earring

When the middle watch was on

And the time went slow boy

Who could choose a rousing stave

Who like Jack or Joe boy?

There she swings and empty hulk

Not a soul below now

Number seven starboard mess

Misses Jack and Joe now

But the best of friends must part

Fair or foul the weather

Hand your flipper for a shake

Now a drink together

David Counts

Down said the thrush with a voice of silk

Sayin' to the cow I know you're ilk

Won't you pity me please give me cream and milk

With a down down rollicking forever

Give me wine and mellow cheese

Give me a horse and a life of ease

And I'll live my life wherever I please

With a down down rollicking forever

Down said the cow with a brooding frown

Not till the last day's sun goes down

And her calf piped up, none to go around

With a down down rollicking forever

Oh Mr. Mouse won't you pity me

You've stored up grain have you any free

None to spare said he sullenly

With a down down rollicking forever

Oh Mr. Sun what an awful fate

My flesh grows thin and my time grows late

Won't you send me spring 'cause I cannot wait

With a down down rollicking forever

Down said the sun but a month or two

The grass will be green the sky bright blue

And the world will be kind and pity you

With a down down rollicking forever

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

Early in the morning

Shave his belly with a rusty razor

Put him in a long boat ‘till he’s sober

Stick him in a barrel with a hosepipe on him

Put him in the bed with the captain’s daughter

That’s what you do with a drunken sailor

AMEN.

Traditional

à la The Kingston Trio

Farewell to you, captain, the bravest in command.

Goodbye to all the soldiers who didn't give a damn

For we're goin' back to Richmond, buddy, leavin' here today

Gonna sell our rifles for a jug and get drunk along the way

'Twas in Virginia harbor General Parker disappeared, tied sleeping soundly to a tree

How we wept as we launched him and so cheerfully we cheered as the general drifted slowly out to sea

At the battle of Manasses, I had my sterling chance to bravely fight the red and white and blue

I was so blasted brave I stuck branches in my pants and, yes, I played a tree 'til it was through

Please don't think that we are cowards. What a horrible suggestion! It's just that we don't feel that we belong

Bobby misses his dear mother, John has acid indigestion and I think I feel a migraine coming on

Traditional

As I walked by the dockside one evening so fair

To view the salt waters and take the sea air

I heard an old fisherman singing a song

Won’t you take me away boys, my time is not long

Wrap me up in my oilskins and jumper

No more on the docks I’ll be seen

Just tell me old shipmates I’m taking a trip, mates

And I’ll see you someday on Fiddlers’ Green

Oh Fiddlers’ Green is a place I’ve heard tell

Where the fishermen go if they don’t go to Hell

Where the skies are all clear and the dolphins do play

And the cold coast of Greenland is far, far away

Where the sky’s always clear and there’s never a gale

Where the fish jump on board with a swish of their tail

Where you lie at your leisure, there’s no work to do

And the skipper’s below making tea for the crew

When we get to the docks and the long trip is through

Where there’s clubs and there’s pubs and there’s lassies there too

Where the girls are all pretty and the beer is all free

And there’s bottles of rum hanging from every tree

No I don’t want a harp nor a halo, not me

Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea

And I’ll play my old squeezebox as we sail along

With the wind in the rigging to sing me the song

Traditional

à la JD and the Stonemasons

Ballad Index R103

Daddy Fox, he went out one chilly night

He prayed to the moon for to give him light

For he'd many, many miles to go that night

Before he came to his den-o

Den-o, den-o

For he'd many, many miles to go that night

Before he came to his den-o

He ran till he came to the farmer's pen

The ducks and the geese were kept therein

Said, a couple of you are gonna grease my chin

Before I leave this town-o

Town-o, town-o... etc.

He grabbed a gray goose by the neck

Threw a duck across his back

And he didn't mind that quack, quack, quack

And the legs all dangling down-o

Oh, the old gray woman jumped out of bed

Out of the window she popped her head

Crying, John, John, the gray goose is gone

And the fox is on the town-o

Well John he ran to the top of the hill

Blew his horn both loud and shrill

The fox he said, better flee with my kill

For they'll soon to be on my tail-o

He ran till he came to his nice warm den

There were the little ones, eight, nine, ten

Singing, daddy, daddy, better go back again

Must be a mighty fine town-o

Oh, the fox and his wife, without any strife

They cut up that goose with a fork and a knife

And they never had such a supper in their life

And the little ones chewed on the bones-o

Daddy Fox, he went out one chilly night

He prayed to the moon for to give him light

For he'd many, many miles to go that night

Before he came to his den-o

Steve Earle

Well, I took a stroll on the old long walk

Of a day -I-ay-I-ay

I met a little girl and we stopped to talk

Of a fine soft day -I-ay-I-ay

And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do

'Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue

And I knew right then I'd be takin' a whirl

'Round the Salthill Prom with a Galway girl

We were halfway there when the rain came down

Of a day -I-ay-I-ay

And she asked me up to her flat downtown

Of a fine soft day -I-ay-I-ay

And I ask you, friend, what's a fella to do

'Cause her hair was black and her eyes were blue

So I took her hand and I gave her a twirl

And I lost my heart to a Galway girl

When I woke up I was all alone

With a broken heart and a ticket home

And I ask you now, tell me what would you do

If her hair was black and her eyes were blue

I've traveled around I've been all over this world

Boys I ain't never seen nothin' like a Galway girl

Oh General Taylor gained the day

Oh General Taylor gained the day

Oh General Taylor’s dead and gone

Oh General Taylor’s dead and gone

We dug his grave with silver spades

We made sure he don’t rise up again

We lowered him down with silver chains

At every length we shouted his name

I wish I was General Taylor’s son

I’d build me a ship of ten thousand tons

He gained the day from sand to sword

He led his way from ship to shore

Traditional

à la The Kingston Trio

Way down in Columbus, Georgia, that's where I don't wanna be

Way, way down in Columbus stockade. Take me back to Tennessee

Well, you can take me back to old Kentucky, any place will do me fine

Just turn me loose from this old stockade. I'll tell you, buddy, I won't mind

The other night as I lay sleeping I dreamt I held you in my arms

When I awoke I was mistaken; these prison walls were all I found

Two years ago—it seems a long time—that's when I was free and on my own

But here I am behind this stockade; I wish to God they'd take me home

Way down in Columbus, Georgia, that's where I don't wanna be

Way, way down in Columbus stockade. Take me back to Tennessee

I'll tell you, buddy, I won't mind

Traditional

God be with you ‘till we meet again

By his counsel’s guide uphold you

With His sheep securely fold you

God be with you ‘till we meet again

‘Neath His wings protecting hide you

Daily manna still provide you

When Life’s perils thick confound you

Put His arms unfailing ‘round you

Keep love’s banner floating o’er you

Smite death’s threat’ning wave before you

Dave Van Ronk

When I go by Baltimore

Need no carpet on my floor

You come along, follow me

We'll go down to Galilee

Green, green rocky road

You promenade in green

Tell me who do you love,

Tell me who do you love?

See that crow up in the sky

He don't walk, he just fly

He don't walk, he don't run

He keep on flapping, til' the sun

Little Miss Jane you run to wall

Don't you stumble, Don't you fall

Don't you sing, Don't you shout

When I sing you come runnin' out

Hooka-dooka soda cracker

Does your mama chew tobacco?

If your mama chews tobacco

Hooka-dooka, hooka-dooka soda cracker

When I go by Baltimore

Needin' no carpet on my floor

Ya Come along, follow me

There's a man in Galilee

Don’t mind the wind or the roaring sea

The weary night never worried me

But the hardest part of a sailor’s day

Is to watch sun as it dies away

Here’s one more day

On the Grand Bannar Line

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 above her to the one I love

Oh, Lord, if dreams were only real

I’d have my hands on that wooden wheel

And with all my heart I’d turn her ‘round

And I’d tell the boys that we’re homeward bound

I’ll spend my time like some machine

Until blue water returns to green

Then I’ll dance on deck and I’ll walk ashore

And I’ll sail the Grand Bannar Line no more

And I’ll sail the Grand Bannar Line no more

Oh the grey goose and the gander went o’re yonder hill,

And the grey goose went barefoot for fear of being seen.

For fear of being seen, my boys, by the light of the moon,

Rise early tomorrow morning all in the same tune.

Well the gentlemen took the ladies their hounds for to view;

Said the gentlemen to the ladies, well how do you do?

Well how do you do, my boys, by the light of the moon,

Rise early tomorrow morning all in the same tune.

Well the landlord got drunk and his reckoning forgot

So we pulled down his signpost and smashed all his pots.

We smashed all his pots, my boys, by the light of the moon,

Rise early tomorrow morning all in the same tune.

(Repeat first verse)

When I was just a little lad or so me mammi told me

That if I did not kiss the girls me lips would grow all mouldy

I used to have an Irish girl but she got fat and lazy

But now I’ve got a Bristol girl and she just drives me crazy

Well Louie was the king of France before the revolution

But then he got his head chopped off and he lost his constitution

You call yourself a second mate ye cannie tie a bowline

You can’t even a stand up straight when the packet she’s a rolling

Well now can’t ye see the black clouds are gathering?

Well now can’t ye see the storm clouds arising?

Haul on the bowline, Kitty is me darlin’,

Haul on the bowline, Kitty comes from Liverpool.

Haul on the bowline so early in the mornin’.

Haul on the bowline and the old man he’s a-growlin’.

Haul on the bowline before she starts a-rowlin’.

Haul on the bowline but we don’t know where we’re going.

Haul on the bowline and we don’t know where we’re sailing from.

Haul on the bowline and the sooner we’re get going.

Haul on the bowline, well the sooner we comes homes again.

Haul on the bowline, it’s a weary way to Liverpool.

Haul on the bowline, it’s a far cry to payday.

à la The Young Tradtion

They call me hanging Johnny

Away me boys away

But I never hanged nobody

So hang boys hang

Hang on they says I hang me graddy

Hang on I hanged me family

Hang on they says I hang me mother

Me bonnie mater and me brother

Hang on I hanged a rotten liar

But I hanged a bloody friar

Hang on they tells I hang for money

But hanging is so bloody funny

Hang on we all will hang together

Forever and for better weather

Ballad Index R146

Hang me, oh hang me

 I'll be dead and gone.

Hang me, oh hang me

 I'll be dead and gone.

Wouldn't mind the hanging

But the layin' in a grave so long, poor boy

I been all around this world.

I been all 'round cape Gigardeau

Parts of Arkansas.

All around cape Giradeau

Parts of Arkansas.

Got so god damn hungry

I could hide behind a straw, poor boy

I been all around this world.

Went up on a mountain

There I made my stand.

Went up on a mountain

There I made my stand.

Rifle on my shoulder

And a dagger in my hand, poor boy

I been all around this world.

Put the rope around my neck

And hung me up so high.

Put the rope around my neck

Hung me up so high.

Last words I heard 'em say,

Won't be long now for you die, poor boy

I been all around this world.

Traditional

Ballad Index CrSe222

Kind friends and companions, come join me in rhyme

Come lift up your voices in chorus with mine;

Come lift up your voices all grief to refrain

 For we may or might never all meet here again

Here's a health to the company and one to my lass

Let us drink and be merry all out of one glass;

Let us drink and be merry all grief to refrain

 For we may or might never all meet here again

Here's a health to the dear lass that I love so well

For her style and her beauty, sure none can excel

There's a smile on her countenance as she sits on my knee

 There's no man in this wide world as happy as me

Our ship lies at anchor, she's ready to dock

I wish her safe landing, without any shock

If ever I should meet you by land or by sea

 I will always remember your kindness to me.

There’s a school of wee fish way down deep in the sea

Where the little fish study zoology

Where they write on a slate and they read from a book

How to rob from the bait and to flee with your hook

A fish lost his darling when he turned his face

And ten thousand others swam into her place

Well sound travels fast where the water is cold

But the sounds of the others drowned out all his calls

He said there are plenty of fish in the sea

But there’s only one other who cares about me

I had to resurface I ran out of breath

But I hope that that fish never gave up his quest

Traditional

And am I born to die?

To lay this body down?

𝄆 And must my trembling spirit fly

Into a world unknown

A land of deepest shade,

Unpierced by human thought,

𝄆 The dreary regions of the dead

Where all things are forgot?

Soon as from earth I go,

What will become of me?

𝄆 Eternal happiness or woe

Must then my portion be

Waked by the trumpet’s sound,

I from my grave shall rise,

𝄆 And see the Judge with glory crowned,

And see the flaming skies

Thou art thyself the Way;

Thyself in me reveal;

𝄆 So shall I spend my life’s short day

Obedient to thy will 𝄇

So shall I love my God,

Because he first loved me,

𝄆 And praise thee in thy bright abode,

To all eternity 𝄇

Traditional

𝄆 I’ve been listening all the night-long,

Been listening all the day

I’ve been listening all the night-long

To hear some sinner pray 𝄇

𝄆 Some say John was a baptist

Some say he was a Jew

But the bible does inform us

He was a preacher too 𝄇

𝄆 Go read the fifth of Matthew

Go read that chapter through

It is the guide to Christians

And tells them what to do 𝄇

𝄆 There was a search in heaven

And all the earth around

John stood in sorrow hoping

A savior could be found 𝄇

Roger Miller

Trailers for sale or rent

Rooms to let, fifty cents

No phone, no pool, no pets

I ain't got no cigarettes

But two hours of pushing broom

Buys a eight by twelve foot bedroom

I'm a man of means, by no means

King of the road

Third boxcar, midnight train

Destination: Bangor, Maine

Old worn-out suit and shoes

I don't pay no union dues

I smoke old stogies I have found

Short but not too big around

I'm a man of means, by no means

King of the road

𝄆 I know every engineer on every train

All of the children and all of their names

And every handout in every town

And every lock that ain't locked when nobody’s around

Trailers for sale or rent

Rooms to let, fifty cents

No phone, no pool, no pets

I ain't got no cigarettes

Ah, but two hours of pushing broom

Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room

I'm a man of means, by no means

King of the road  𝄇

Oh I thought I heard the old man say

It’s a long hard pull to the next payday

Oh the times was hard and the wages low

And now once more ashore we’ll go

Oh the skipper was bad but the mate was worse

He’d blow you down with a spike and a curse

It was rotten beef and weevily bread

You can eat it or starve the old man said

Oh pull yer lubbers or you’ll get no pay

Oh pull yer lubbers and then belay

Oh I thought I heard the old man say

It’s a long hard pull to the next payday.

David Counts

A crow banks, bobs, and weaves a streak of black across the sleet-gray sleek March clouds

Let it blow over

Let it blow over

The flurry falling snowflake horde obscures the world it dancingly surrounds

The winter's almost through and through the course of frost we've left our cares behind

The warm sunrises and sunsets thaw out the cold regrets left in our minds

I hurt the ones I never meant to hurt which hurts me more than I can tell

It takes the life of grace to make a heaven of the here-resulting hell

The crow returns, banks, bobs, and weaves and his wings absorb the breeze's coil and strain

I think of what he means by letting fall and rise return yet and again

Let it blow over

Let it blow over, Lord, Amen

I looked up this morning

Deep down trouble I see

Yes I looked up this morning

Let the sun shine down on me

Saw that big cloud rising

Hard trouble I see

Heard my mother crying

Let the sun shine down on me

Heavy is their burden

Hard their trouble I see

Suff’ring is their sermon

Let the sun shine down on me

Good Lord, spare my sight

From all this trouble I see

Keep me through the night

Let the sun shine down on me.

I know there’s a great big coming

When no more trouble I see

When we’ll all shout together

Let the sun shine down on me

Traditional

𝄆 Lord, I want more religion

Lord, I want more religion

Lord, I want more religion

To get me unto God 𝄇

Religion makes me happy

 And then I want to go

To leave this world of sorrow

 And trouble here below.

And when the Good Lord comes again

 To take me from this place

I’ll meet with Him in glory

 And look upon his face

Just like He saved dear Daniel

 From out the lions’ den

He saved my mortal soul

 And He’ll save it once again

But until that day is come—

And I know it won’t be long—

Rejoice in all He’s given

In shouting and in song:

Traditional

When a bumper is filled, it is vexing, no doubt,

To find when you rise that the wine has run out;

And sure it’s an equally unpleasant thing

To be asked for a song when you’ve naught left to sing.

I could sing something old, if an old one would do,

But the world it is craving to have something new.

But what to select for the words or the tune?

I, in fact, know no more than the Man in the Moon.

The Man in the Moon a new light on us throws,

He’s a man we all talk of but nobody knows.

And though a high subject, I’m getting in tune,

I’ll just sing a song for the Man in the Moon.

’Tis said that some people are moonstruck, we find,

But the Man in the Moon must be out of his mind.

But it can’t be for love for he’s quite on his own,

No ladies to meet him by moonlight alone.

It can’t be ambition, for rivals he’s none,

At least he is only eclipsed by the sun,

But when drinking, I say, he is seldom surpassed,

For he always looks best when he’s seen through a glass.

The Man in the Moon he must lead a queer life,

With no one around him, not even a wife,

No friends to console him, no children to kiss,

No chance of his joining a party like this.

But he’s used to high life, for each all circles agree,

That none move in such a high circle as he,

And though nobles go up in their royal balloon,

They’re not introduced to the Man in the Moon.

Stan Rogers

Ah, for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage

To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea

Tracing one warm line through a land so wide and savage

And make a Northwest Passage to the sea

Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie

The sea route to the Orient for which so many died

Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered, broken bones

And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones

Three centuries thereafter, I take passage overland

In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his "sea of flowers" began

Watching cities rise before me, then behind me sink again

This tardiest explorer, driving hard across the plain

And through the night, behind the wheel, the mileage clicking west

I think upon Mackenzie, David Thompson and the rest

Who cracked the mountain ramparts and did show a path for me

To race the roaring Fraser to the sea

How then am I so different from the first men through this way?

Like them, I left a settled life, I threw it all away

To seek a Northwest Passage at the call of many men

To find there but the road back home again

David Counts

Said Mr. Mouse to Mr. Shrew

There ain't nothing to do but drink

My wife has gone I don't know what to do

And there's nothing to do but drink

And said Mr. Shrew I feel for you

There ain't nothing to do but drink

I lost all my land with a poker hand

And there's nothing to do but drink

Drink, drink, drink my boys

Ain't nothing to do but drink

Pass another beer way down over here

There ain't nothing to do but drink

The summer was old and the wind was high

There was nothing to do but drink

The fields were parched our mouths were dry

And here was nothing to do but drink

And said Mr. Mouse with a dreadful frown

Ain't nothing to do but drink

Let's go down to the pub downtown

There ain't nothing to do but drink

(Chorus)

But working the taps of the public house

Nothing to do but drink

Who should they find but Mrs. Mouse

There ain't nothing to do but drink

And then Mr. Shrew he sat down at the table

Nothing to do but drink

Played as well as any man is able

Ain't nothing to do but drink

(Chorus)

The song is sung the story's told

Ain't nothing to do but drink

Let's have another pint 'fore the night gets old

Ain't nothing to do but drink

(Chorus)

Traditional

𝄆 Oh, He’s taken my feet

From the mire and the clay

And he’s placed them on the rock of ages

I’ll praise him while he gives me breath

I hope to praise him after death

And I will praise him when I die

Shout salvation as I fly

And I will tell to sinners ‘round

What a dear savior I have found

Traditional, Kentucky

à la The Kingston Trio

Fare-thee-well, Old Joe Clark, goodbye Mitsy Brown

Fare-thee-well, Old Joe Clark. I'm gonna leave this town

Old Joe Clark used to clean the bar, liquor was his pay.

Never saved a golden eagle, drank it all away

I don't want your old-time religion or what you got to say

But pass me down the barley jug and I'll be on my way

Old Joe Clark walked downtown backwards, people asked him why?

“I come back for one more drink while wavin' you good-bye!"

Now we are ready to head for the Horn

Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn

Man the stout capst’n and heave with a will

But soon we’ll be driving her ’way down the hill

Heave away, bullies, you parish-rigged bums

Take your hands from your pockets and don’t suck your thumbs

Now we’re warping her into the dock

Where the pretty young girls all come down in flocks

Roust ’er up, bullies, the wind’s drawing free

Let’s get the gladrags on and drive ’er to sea

We’re outward bound for Vallipo Bay

Get crackin’ my lads, it’s a hell of a way.

Traditional

Ballad Index So28n3a

Come over the hills, my bonnie Irish lass

Come over the hills to your darling

You choose the road, love, and I'll make the vow

And I'll be your true love forever

Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows

Fair is the lily of the valley

Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne

But my love is fairer than any

'Twas down by Killarney's green woods that we strayed

When the moon and the stars they were shining

The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair

And she swore she'd be my love forever

It's not for the parting that my sister pains

It's not for the grief of my mother

It's all for the loss of my bonny Irish lass

That my heart is breaking forever

Traditional

Ballad Index Doe064

O say were you ever in Rio Grande?

Oh, you Rio

It's there that the river runs down golden sand

For we're bound to the Rio Grande

And away, haul away

Oh, you Rio

Sing fare thee well my pretty young girls

For we're bound for the Rio Grande

Oh, New York town is no place for me

I'll pack up my bag and go out to sea

So it's pack up your donkey and get under way

The girls we are leaving can take our half pay

We'll sell our salt cod for molasses and rum

And get home again 'fore Thanksgiving has come

Sing good bye to Nellie and good bye to Sue

And you who are listening, good bye to you

And good-bye, fare you well, all you ladies of town

We've left you enough for to buy a silk gown

Now you Bowery ladies we'd have you to know

We're bound to the south'ard, O Lord, let us go!

Our good ship's a-going out over the bar

And we'll point her nose for the South-er-on Star

O say were you ever in Rio Grande?

It's there that the river runs down golden sand

It’s a damn tough life full of toil and strife we whalemen undergo,

We don’t give a damn when the gale is done how hard the winds did blow.

We’re homeward bound, ’tis a grand ol’ sound with a good ship taut and free,

We don’t give a damn when we drink our rum with the girls of old Maui.

Once more we sail with a Northerly gale through the ice, and wind, and rain,

And them coconut fronds and them tropical lands we soon shall see again.

Six hellish months have passed away in the cold Kamchatka sea

But now we’re bound from the Arctic ground rolling down to old Maui.

Once more we sail with the Northerly gale towards our Island home,

Our mainmast sprung and our whaling done and we ain’t got far to roam.

Our stuns’l booms is carried away, what care we for that sound,

A living gale is after us, thank God we’re homeward bound

How soft the breeze from the island trees now the ice is far astern,

And them native maids and them island glades is awaiting our return.

Even now their big, black eyes look out hoping some fine day to see,

Our baggy sails running ’fore the gales rolling down to old Maui.

Traditional

à la A.L. Lloyd

I’ve travelled this wide world over

And now to another I’ll go,

For I know that good quarters are waiting

To welcome old Rosin the Beau.

To welcome old Rosin the Beau,

To welcome old Rosin the Beau,

For I know that good quarters are waiting

To welcome old Rosin the Beau.

When I’m dead and laid out on the counter

A voice you will hear from below

Crying, “Send down a hogshead of whisky

To drink to old Rosin the Beau.

To drink to old Rosin the Beau

etc...

And when I have drunk my last skinful

The ladies will want to, I know,

Just lift off the lid of my coffin, take

A last look at Rosin the Beau.

Then get a full dozen stout fellows

And prop them all up in a row,

And drink out of half gallon bottles

To the memory of Rosin the Beau.

Then get a half dozen fellows

And let them all stagger and go,

And dig a great hole in the meadow

And in it throw Rosin the Beau.

Then get you a couple of bottles,

Put one at my head and my toe,

With a diamond ring scratch upon them

The name of old Rosin the Beau.

I feel that great tyrant approaching,

That cruel remorseless old foe,

And I lift up my glass in his honour,

Take a drink with old Rosin the Beau.

I’ll sing you a song if it helps you to row

I’ll sing it for Davy Jones ranting below

Seven years rotting down in a French dungeon

Now we’re seven days distant from flaggons in London

We hogtied the gaoler and made our escape

With a fully-stocked rowboat we stole off the cape

It’s miles to London from port in Calais

Keep hauling my lads it’s a hell of a way

So haul away boys ain’t it good to be free

When we reach English port the first pint is on me

Pull for it lads me old sweetheart awaits

I’ll have her in my arms before high tide abates

It was nineteen hundred and twenty nine

I remember that day pretty well

It was nineteen hundred and twenty nine

There were three sails leaving out the harbor

There was the Ethel and the Myrtle and the Praetoria

There were three sails... etc.

Well the Ethel was bound for Fresh Creek

With the mothers and children on board

Well the Myrtle was bound for Staniard Creek

My God what a beautiful morning

Praetoria was out on the ocean

She was dashing side to side

Then a big storm built up in the northwest

And the children come holdin to the mothers

Then the first sea hit the Praetoria

And the mothers came grabbin’ for the children

That sail a-head down, went to the bottom

And the skipper come grabbin’ for the tiller

There were thirty three souls out on the water

Just swimming and praying the Daniel

Well George Brown he was the captain

He shouts my children come pray

Well come now witness your judgement

He shouts my children come pray

Jimmy Driftwood

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 ....

Oh Santiana gained a day

Napoleon of the West they say

She’s a fast clipper ship and a bully good crew

And an old salty Yank for a captain too

Santiana fought for gold

Round Cape Horn through the ice and snow

T’was on the field of Molly Del Rey

Well both his legs got blown away

It was a fierce and bitter strife

The General Taylor took his life

Santiana now we mourn

We left him buried off Cape Horn

Rudyard Kipling

I followed my Duke ere I was a lover,

To take from England fief and fee;

But now this game is the other way over—

But now England hath taken me!

I had my horse, my shield and banner,

And a boy's heart, so whole and free;

But now I sing in another manner—

But now England hath taken me!

As for my Father in his tower,

Asking news of my ship at sea,

He will remember his own hour—

Tell him England hath taken me!

As for my Mother in her bower,

That rules my Father so cunningly,

She will remember a maiden's power—

Tell her England hath taken me!

As for my Brother in Rouen City,

A nimble and naughty page is he,

But he will come to sorrow and pity—

Tell him England hath taken me!

As for my little Sister waiting

In the pleasant orchards of Normandie,

Tell her youth is the time for mating—

Tell her England hath taken me!

As for my comrades in camp and highway,

That lift their eyebrows scornfully,

Tell them their way is not my way—

Tell them England hath taken me!

You Kings and Princes and Barons famed,

All you Knights and Captains in your degree;

Hear me a little before I am blamed—

Seeing England hath taken me!

Howso great man's strength be reckoned,

Yet there are two things he cannot flee.

Love is the first, and Death is the second—

And Love in England hath taken me!

Traditional

à la Anne Briggs

Ballad Index StoR120

O the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing

And the corn it ripens fastest when the frosts are setting in

And when a young man tells me that my face he’ll soon forget

Before we part, I’d bet a crown, he’d be fain to follow it yet

O the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing

And the swallow skims without a thought as long as it is spring

But when spring blows and winter goes my lad then you’d be fain

With all your pride for to follow me, were it ’cross the stormy main

O the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing

And the bee that flew when summer shone in winter he won’t sing

And all the flowers in all the land so brightly there they be

And the snow it melts the soonest when my true love’s for me

So never say me farewell here, no farewell I’ll receive

You can meet me at the stile, you’ll kiss and take your leave

And I’ll wait it till the woodcock crows or the martin takes its leave

Since the snow it melts the soonest when the winds begin to sing

Traditional

Roud 2430

We are the true-born sons of Levi

We are the true-born sons of God

We are the roots and the branch of David

The bright and glorious morning star

When Joshua and I crossed the Jordan

Two leaves of corn we lifted high

To the high priest and the grand master

We bore the ark of God and Son.

Come all ye knights, ye knights of Molite

And learn to do what I have done

You might have been a guard much brighter

When in the new Jerusalem

When Moses planted the rod of Aaron

And in one night that rod did bud

When Moses smote Egyptian water

That very night it turned to blood

We are the true-born sons of Levi

We are the true-born sons of God

We are the roots and the branch of David

The bright and glorious morning star

David Counts

For four hundred years we have done what we can

To fix up New England by Old England's plan

Been improving the soil by the labor of man

All the stone walls of New England

Sing a praise to New England's stone walls

The farmers arose in the mornings long lost

To shift all the fieldstones unearthed by the frost

Into heaps bleached by sunlight and softened by moss

And from Epping to Merrimack, Weare to Jaffrey,

Lancaster to Concord, New London to Keane,

Stone walls weaved their patchworks through New Hampshire's green

The masons made every spring a fresh start

Tearing stone off of stone, tearing whole walls apart

To build them again by their painstaking art

Oh but time makes new troubles and we ruefully find

Our walls fallen apart, out of sight and of mind

And they're hemmed in by maples, toppled by wind

So now to conclude, to finish my song

Let's set out a guidewire tight, taunt, and long

To raise our stone walls again noble and strong

Traditional

Roud #4192

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Hang down your head and cry

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley

Poor boy, you're bound to die

I met her on the mountain

There I took her life

Met her on the mountain

Stabbed her with my knife

This time tomorrow

Reckon where I'll be

Hadn't-a been for Grayson

I'd-a been in Tennessee

This time tomorrow

Reckon where I'll be

Down in some lonesome valley

Hangin' from a white oak tree

Hughie Jones

When I was small at me grandad's knee

He'd sing his auld songs and he'd yarn to me

Of sailing ships and years long past,

And serving time before the mast.

Sometimes a faraway look would come,

I knew I'd be hearing a special one;

Of every ship, on every sea,

His favourite was The Wavertree.

Running your Easting down,

Running your Easting down.

Ain't you proud to be signed AB

On a Liverpool ship, The Wavertree,

Bowling along in a Westerly.

Running your Easting down.

A full-rigged ship, two thousand ton,

Southampton built for the Calcutta run.

When demand for jute began to fade

She entered the Australia trade.

In later years her cutback crew

Humped dirty cargo off Peru.

When steam beat sail eventually,

They damned near starved in Wavertree.

For twenty-five years she played her part

'Til a Cape Horn snorter broke her heart.

Almost forgotten, tired and worn,

An old windjammer's been* reborn.

If grandad were alive today

He'd not believe it if you'd say

A century on a New York quay

Would berth his favourite Wavertree.

Traditional

The pilot he looks out ahead

With his hand on the chain and he’s heaving at the lead

The old man roars to wake the dead

Come and get your oats me son

Soon we’ll see those lizard lights

Soon me boys we’re gonna heave in sight

We’ll soon be abreast of the Isle of Wight

When we get to the black whale docks

Those pretty young girls come down in flocks

In their short-legged drawers and their long-tailed frocks

And as we walk down lime light way

All the pretty girls there will spend our pay

We’ll never see more till another day

The pilot he looks out ahead

Got his hand on the chain and he’s heaving at the lead

And the old man roars to wake the dead

Traditional

Ballad Index MA069

I’ve been a wild rover for many's the year

and I've spent all my money on whiskey and beer.

But now I'm returning with gold in great store

and I never will play the wild rover no more

And it's no, nay, never,

no, nay, never, no more

will I play the wild rover

no, never, no more

I went into an ale-house I used to frequent

and I told the landlady my money was spent.

I asked her for credit, she answered me nay,

"a custom like yours I can have any day

I took from my pocket ten sovereigns bright

and the landlady's eyes opened wide with delight.

She said I'd have whiskey and wines of the best

and the words that she told me were only in jest.

I'll go home to my parents, confess what I've done,

and I'll ask them to pardon their prodigal son.

And when they've caressed me as oft' times before

then I never will play the wild rover no more