Songs

Barrett's Privateers, Stan Rogers

Oh the year was seventeen-seventy-eight How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now. A letter of marque came from the king To the scummiest vessel I'd ever seen

Goddamn them all, I was told We'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no guns, Shed no tears I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's privateers

Oh Euclid 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

Refrain

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

Refrain

On the king's birthday we put to sea How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now We were ninty-one days to Montego Bay Pumping like madmen all the way

Refrain

On the ninethy-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

Refrain

The Yankee lay low down with gold How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now She was broad and fat and loose with stays But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days

Refrain

Then at length we stood two cables away How I wish I was in Sherbrooke now Our cracked four-pounders made an aweful din But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in

Refrain

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

Refrain

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

Refrain

Bill and the Bear

Come listen now, good people here To a story of renown of the day a hundred years ago when the circus came to town Mr Wirth and all his gallant crew They raised the big top high And all the folk for miles around Gathered under a canvas sky

CHORUS: And were you there in the clear night air when William Sinclair he fought the bear Were you there to see William Sinclair When he wrestled the bear to the ground

There were dancing ponies and tumbling clowns The best you ever did see A lion tamer and a high wire act A girl on the flying trapeze There was a fat ring-master in a big top hat And he slashed his whip through the air With a roar and a growl, a cage went clang It was samson the mighty bear

He was ten feet high, he was nine feet wide A mountain of muscle and fur A mighty beast just as black ar the coal The ground shook with his roar Then the man with the whip He called for quiet not a sound from those who were there I've a crisp ten pounds for any man here Who's brave enough to wrestle a bear.

Bill and his family had come to see the show his youngest newly born The strongest man to ever walk the range He'd carry his weight in corn he sized up the beast, with a glance at his wife he slowly raised his hand "I'll have a go", he heard himself say then up struck the band

Stripped to the waist, bill entered the ring Circling and bouncing round First left, then right, 'til he lunged right in The crowd didn't make a sound They twisted and they turned as they wrestled and they grappled At the skin and the muscle and the hair With a mighty roar, Bill threw Samson down He raised his fist in the air

You've never heard a roar quite like it The shouts split the midnight air Bill was raised above all the heads of the crowd to the cheers of everyone there And to this day, when you see the name of the famous Bill Sinclair Raise your glass and drink to the health Of the only man to ever beat the bear.

Bonnie Ship the Diamond

The Diamond is a ship, my lads For the Davis Strait we're bound The quay it is all garnished With bonnie lasses 'round Captain Thompson gives the order To sail the ocean wide Where the sun it never sets, my lads Nor darkness dims the sky

For it's cheer up my lads Let your hearts never fail For the bonnie ship the Diamond Goes a-hunting for the whale

Along the quay at Peterhead The lasses stand aroon Wi' their shawls all pulled around them And the saut tears runnin' doon

Don't you weep, my bonnie wee lass Though you be left behind For the rose will grow on Greenland's ice Before we change our mind

Here's a health to the Resolution Likewise the Eliza Swan Three cheers for the Battler of Montrose And the Diamond, ship of fame We wear the trousers o' the white The jackets o' the blue When we get back to Peterhead We'll hae sweethearts enou'

It will be bright both day and night When the Greenland lads come hame Our ship full up with oil, my lads And money to our name We'll make the cradles for to rock And the blankets for to tear And every lass in Peterhead sing "Hushabye, my dear"

Bully in the Alley

CHORUS:

Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley, Way, hey, bully in the alley! Help me, Bob, I'm bully in the alley, Bully down in shinbone al!

Well, Sally is the girl down 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.

I bought her silks, I bought her laces I took her out to all the fine places

I'll leave Sal and I'll become a sailor, I'll leave Sal and ship aboard a whaler.

I'll come back and I'll marry Sally, We'll have kids and count them by the tally.

Cornish Lads (Roger Bryant)

Well Cornish lads are fishermen And Cornish lads are miners too But when the fish and tin are gone What are the Cornish boys to do?

From Newly town we used to sail Through rain and mist and lashing gale The mackerel shoals we hoped to find And soon we've left Land's End behind

I've searched the seven stones all around But not a sign or shoal we've found Round Island light is now in sight But Scillies are a barren ground

The winding engines used to sing A melody to Cornish tin And Geevor lads they all would grin At pay day on a Friday

The water now reclaims the mine And young men talk of old men's time And go to work in gold or coal Or face a life upon the dole

The hammer of the auction man Is the only sound we soon will hear And visitors will make the noise And order drinks from Cornish boys

We'll do as we have done before Go out to roam the wild world o'er Wherever sea or ship are found Or there's a hole down underground

Well Cornish lads are fishermen And Cornish lads are miners too So when the fish and tin are gone That's what the Cornish boys will do

Country Roads, John Denver

Almost heaven, West Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River Life is old there, older than the trees Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze

CHORUS: Country roads, take me home To the place, I belong West Virginia, mountain momma Take me home, country roads

All my mem'ries, gather 'round her Miner's lady, stranger to blue water Dark and dusty, painted on the sky Misty taste of moonshine, teardrops in my eyes CHORUS

I hear her voice, in the mornin' hours she calls to me The radio reminds me of my home far away And drivin' down the road I get a feeling that I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

CHORUS

Farewell to Carlingford

When I was young and in my prime And could wander wild and free There was always a longing in my mind To follow the call of the sea

So I'll sing farewell to Carlingford And farewell to Greenore And I'll think of you both day and night Until I return once more, till I return once more

On all of the stormy seven seas I have sailed before the mast And on every voyage I ever made I swore it would be my last

Now, I had a girl called Mary Doyle And she lived in Greenore And the foremost thought that was in her mind Was to keep me safe on shore

Now, the landsman's life is all his own He can go or he can stay But when the sea gets in your blood When she calls you must obey

So I'll sing farewell to Carlingford And farewell to Greenore And I'll think of you both day and night Untill I return once more, until I return once more

Farewell to Nova Scotia

Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast, may your (pause) mountains dark and dreary be. For when I am far away on the briny ocean tossed, Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?

The sun was setting in the west, The birds were singing on every tree. All nature seemed inclined to rest But still there was no rest for me.

I grieve to leave my native land, I grieve to leave my comrades all, And my parents whom I love so dear, And the bonnie, bonnie lass/lad that I do adore.

The drums they do beat and the wars to alarm, The captain calls, I must obey. So farewell, farewell to Nova Scotia's charms, For it's early in the morning and I'm far, far away.

Chorus

I have three brothers and they are at rest, Their arms are folded on their chest. But a poor simple sailor just like me, Must be tossed and turned on the deep dark sea.

Chorus

Fiddler's Green

As I walked by the dock side one evening so fair To view the solt water and take the sea air I heard an old fisherman singing this song Wont you take me away boys me time is not long

CHORUS:

Wrap me up in me oil-skin and blanket, No more on the docks I'll be seen Just tell me old ship-mates I'm taking a trip mates And I'll see you someday in Fiddler's Green.

Now the skies are all clear and there's never a gale and the fish jump on board with a swish of their tails you can lie at your leisure, there's no work to do and the skippers been all making tae for the crew.

Now Fiddlers Green is a place I heard tell Where 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

When you get to the docks and the long trip is true There's pubs and there's clubs and lassies there too Where the girls are all pritty and the beer is all free And there's bottles of rum growing on every tree

Now I don't want a harp nor a halo not me Just give me a breeze and a good rolling sea I'll play me old squeeze-box as we sail along With the wind in the rigging I'll sing me

this song

General Taylor

Well General Taylor gained the day Walk him along, John, Carry him along Well General Taylor he gained the day Carry him to his bury'n ground

Tell me where you're stormy Walk him along, John, carry him along Tell me where you're stormy Carry him to his bury'n ground

We'll dig his grave with a silver spade Walk him along, John, Carry him along His shroud of the finest silk will be made Carry him to his bury'n ground

We'll lower him down on a golden chain Walk him along, John, Carry him along On every inch we'll carve his name Carry him to his bury'n ground

General Taylor he's all the go Walk him along, John, Carry him along He's gone where the stormy winds won't blow Carry him to his bury'n ground

General Taylor he's dead and he's gone Walk him along, John, Carry him along Well General Taylor he's long dead and gone Carry him to his bury'n ground

Here's A Health To The Company

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 So here's a health to the company and one to my lass Let's drink and be merry all out of one glass Let's drink and be merry, all grief to refrain For we may or might never all meet here again

Here's a health to the wee lass that I love so well For style and for beauty there's none can excel There's a smile on her countenance as she sits upon my knee There is no man in in this wide world as happy as me

So here's a health to the company and one to my lass Let's drink and be merry all out of one glass Let's drink and be merry, all grief to refrain For we may or might never all meet here again

Our ship lies at anchor, she is ready to dock I wish her safe landing without any shock And if ever I should meet you by land or by sea I will always remember your kindness to me

So here's a health to the company and one to my lass Let's drink and be merry all out of one glass Let's drink and be merry, all grief to refrain For we may or might never all meet here again

I'se the B'y

I'se the b'y that builds the boat And I'se the b'y that sails her I's the b'y that catches the fish, And takes them home to Lizer.

Hip your partner Sally Tibbo Hip your partner Sally Brown Fogo, Twillingate, Morton's Harbour, All around the circle.

Sods and rinds to cover your flake, Cake and tea for supper, Codfish in the spring o' the year, Fried in maggoty butter!

I don't want your maggoty fish, That's no good for winter, I could buy as good as that Down in Bonavista.

I took Lizer to a dance, And faith, but she could travel! And every step that she did take Was up to her knees in gravel.

Susan White, she's out of sight, Her petticoat wants a border, Old Sam Oliver in the dark He kissed her in the corner.

The Leaving of Liverpool

Farewell to Prince's Landing Stage, River Mersey, fare thee well. I am bound for California, a place I know right well!

So fare thee well, my own true love, when I return united we will be It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me But my darling when I think of thee.

I am bound for California by the way of stormy Cape Horn. And I'm bound to write you a letter, love, when I am homeward bound.

I have signed on a Yankee Clipper ship, Davy Crockett is her name. And Burgess is the Captain of her, and they say she's a floating grave.

I have shipped with Burgess once before, and I think I know him well. If a man's a seaman, he can get along; if not, then he's sure in Hell.

Lever Johnny

Archimedes was a fine old man; Of that I'm a believer. He invented hair oil and the frying pan, and he taught us about the lever. Lever, Johnny, the lever! O lever, Johnny, the lever! Not the pulley or the screw or the incline plane. . . It's time to use the lever.

Well, the incline plane it launched our ship And screw it may well sink her And the pulleys we pull in the rigging all day. . . But what about the lever?

When the grog it is brought up on deck Our thirst it's a reliever And the bung won't budge from the bunghole, then It's time to use the lever

Archimedes, he is dead and gone. May God be his receiver! And we dig his grave with a silver spade, Which, in fact, is just a lever.

Life of the Rover

The old ways are changing, you cannot deny The day of the traveller is over There is nowhere to go and there is nowhere to buy So farewell to the life of the rover

Farewell to the tent and the old caravan To the tinker, the gipsy, the travelling man Farewell to the life of the rover

Farewell to the ken and the travelling tongue Farewell to the romany talking The buying and selling, the old fortune telling The knock at the door and the hawking

Farewell to the besom of heather and broom Farewell to the creel and the basket The folks of today, they would far soon and pay For a thing that's been made out of plastic

Farewell to the tent . . .

Farewell to the fields where we sweated and toiled The pulling and crowning and lifting They'll soon have machines and the travelling queens And there manfolks can better be shifting

Farewell to the tent . . .

The old ways are passing and soon will be gone For progress is eye a big factor It's scent to afflict us and when they avict us They tow us away with a tractor

You've got to move fast to keep up with the times For these days a man cannot donder There's a buy-lord to say you must be on your way And another to say you cant wander

Farewell to the tent . . .

Loch Lomond

By yon bonnie banks and by yon bonnie braes Where the sun shines bright on Loch Lomond Me and my true love were ever wont to gae On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond Chorus Ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak the low road And I'll be in Scotland afore ye But me and my true love will never meet again On the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond 'Twas there that we parted in yon shady glen On the steep, steep side of Ben Lomond Where in the purple hue the hieland hills we view And the moon coming out in the gloaming The wee birdies sing and the wild flowers spring And in sunshine the waters are sleeping But the broken heart it kens nae second spring again And the waefu' may cease frae their greetin'

Mingulay Boat Song

Heel y'ho boys, let her go, boys Bring her head round now all together Heel y'ho boys, let her go boys Sailing homeward to Mingulay!

What care we tho' white the Minch is What care we for wind and weather? Let her go boys, every inch is Wearing homeward to Mingulay!

Wives are waiting on the bank, boys, Looking seaward from the heather. Pull her 'round boys, and we'll anchor 'Ere the sun sets at Mingulay!

Ships returning, heavy laden Mothers holding bairns a'cryin We'll return boys, when the sun sets We'll return home to Mingulay!

Chorus

Molly Malone

In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone As she wheeled her wheel-barrow Through streets broad and narrow Crying cockles and mussels, alive, aliveO! Alive, alive-O! alive, alive-O! Crying cockles and mussels, alive, aliveO! She was a fish-monger, but sure 'twas no wonder For so were her father and mother before And they each wheeled their barrow She died of a fever, and no one could save her And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone But her ghost wheels her barrow

Northwest Passage, 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 was 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 over land 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 plains

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

Parting Song, Dave Webber

Dave Webber, dedicated to the memory of his friend John Purdy of Torquay (1927–1993).

Soon the morning sun will rise, And dawn will bathe the sky. There's time for just this parting song, Before we say goodbye.

Chorus: So sing together one and all, And raise a glass of wine, Here's hoping we will meet again, Along the road of time.

We've shared our stories, yours and mine, We've shared our hopes and fears. With memories of distant youth, We've both rolled back the years.

The ever-turning, fateful wheel, Must cause our ways to part. And bringing untold mysteries, Another day will start.

For from endings come beginnings, From the old shall come the new, With hopes for tomorrow, We'll see our parting through.

Rolling Home

John Tams.

Round goes the wheel of fortune Don't be afraid to ride There's a land of milk and honey Waits on the other side There'll be peace and there'll be plenty You'll never need to roam When we go rolling home, when we go rolling home.

Rolling home, when we go rolling home When we go rolling, rolling, when we go rolling home

The gentry in their fine array Do prosper night and morn While we unto the fields must go To plough and sow their corn The rich may steal the power But the glory's ours alone When we go rolling home (etc)

The frost is on the hedgerow The icy winds do blow While we poor weary labourers Strive through the driving snow Our dreams fly up to glory Up where the lark has flown When we go rolling home (etc)

The summer of resentment The winter of despair The journey to contentment Is set with trap and snare Stand to and stand together Your labour's yours alone When we go rolling home (etc)

So pass the bottle round And let the toast go free (Free the Toast!) Here's a health to every labourer Wherever they may be Fair wages now and ever Let's reap what we have sown When we go rolling home (etc)

Seaman's Hymn

Come all you bold seamen Wherever you're bound And always let Nelson's Proud mem'ry go round

And pray that the wars And the tumults may cease For the greatest of gifts Is a sweet lasting peace

May the Lord put an end To these cruel old wars And bring peace and contentment To all our brave tars.

Skye Boat Song

Speed bonnie boat like a bird on the wing Onward the sailors cry Carry the lad that's born to be king Over the sea to Skye

Loud the wind howls, loud the waves roar, Thunderclaps rend the air Baffled our foes, stand by the shore Follow they will not dare

Many's the lad fought on that day Well the claymore did wield When the night came, silently lain Dead on Culloden field

Though the waves heave, soft will ye sleep Ocean's a royal bed Rocked in the deep, Flora will keep Watch by your weary head

Burned are our homes, exile and death Scatter the loyal men Yet e'er the sword cool in the sheath Charlie will come again.

Song for the Spitfire

You can sing of your great navies and your mighty men of war. But the little gunboat Spitfire held them at Valcour. And bought the time for Arnold and the ragtag rebel fleet to deny the royal navy our defeat.

230 years since she's seen the light of day Haltered by a headwind as she fled from Valcour bay Can you hear her murmur softly as she finally goes down the names of all the dying and the drown?

Will you look across the water and see what lies below? A place that few imagine and fewer ever go. With her mast still raised for action her hull lies in the sand. Like she's waiting for her captain's last command. Like she's waiting for her captain's last command.

Those who hunt for shipwrecks, they are a breed apart. Scholar and adventurer both in equal part. They keep a secret hoping that she will tell them first in the silence of a battle field submerged

They risk their lives but once a year to slip beneath the waves The only souls to visit her lonely unmarked grave Of all the vessels lost and found the Spitfire burns most bright. And draws toward that long dark Valcour night

Do we search with it for daring that would slip through British lines? Down where she rests uneasy, or do we hope to find? Do we dream of hands on muffled oars and hearts that mastered fear? Have we sailed with the Spitfire all these years?

You can have your famous navies and your mighty men of war. I salute the little gunboat that lies on Champlain's floor. And the modern day explorers who keep faith with the past And would see her brought to daylight at long last

Will you look across the water and see what lies below? A place that few imagine and fewer ever go. With her mast still raised for action her hull lies in the sand.

Like she's waiting for her captain's last command.

Stirling

Lying on the ground, he's pierced through the chest. He's in great pain and dyin' but he knows he's done his best. He gave all for his country, for his freedom, and the Truth, And fought shoulder to shoulder with the man they call the Bruce

Give me Stirling, give me Bannockburn Let me fight with Wallace, livin' tales of Robert Burns. Lyin' in me bed, I wish I'd fought out in the fields, In the glory days of Scotland when Scots made the English heel.

Sitting in a pub, like any other bar, he strips his sleeves and proudly shows his hard-won battle scars. The man o'er in the corner with a patch over one eye; They drink a beer together and recall their battle cry.

Standing by the plow, his fields have all been tilled, He takes no pleasure thinkin' of the Englishmen he's killed. Fought poor William Wallace, a man he called a friend, And he swore an oath to Scotland he'd defend her 'til the end.

Centuries have passed, but never Scotish pride, our politicians long for what our countrymen have died. Spirit of William Wallace lives on in our hearts and heads. The passion of the Bruce, and those who for Scotland bled.

'Tis Women

A round, by Henry Purcell.

'Tis women makes us love, 'tis love that makes us sad, 'tis sadness makes us drink, and drinking makes us mad!

Wagon Wheel

Headed down south to the land of the pines And I'm thumbin' my way into North Caroline Starin' up the road And pray to God I see headlights

I made it down the coast in seventeen hours Pickin' me a bouquet of dogwood flowers And I'm a hopin' for Raleigh I can see my baby tonight

So rock me mama like a wagon wheel Rock me mama anyway you feel Hey, mama rock me Rock me mama like the wind and the rain Rock me mama like a south-bound train Hey, mama rock me

Runnin' from the cold up in New England I was born to be a fiddler in an old-time stringband My baby plays the guitar I pick a banjo now

Oh, the North country winters keep a gettin' me now Lost my money playin' poker so I had to up and leave But I ain't a turnin' back To livin' that old life no more REFRAIN

Bridge 2x

Walkin' to the south out of Roanoke I caught a trucker out of Philly Had a nice long talk But he's a headed west from the Cumberland Gap To Johnson City, Tennessee

And I gotta get a move on fit for the sun I hear my baby callin' my name And I know that she's the only one And if I die in Raleigh At least I will die free

REFRAIN

Whistling Gypsy

Whistling Gypsy came over the hill, Down thru the valley so shady; He whistled and he sang til the greenwood rang, And he won the heart of a lady.

Chorus: A dee do a dee do die day, A dee do a dee day-o (He whistled and he sang Til the greenwood rang, And he won the heart of a lady.) (repeat last three lines)

She left her father's castle gate, she left her fair young lover; She left her servants And her estate to follow the gypsy rover.

She left behind her velvet gown, And shoes of Spanish leather; They whistled and they sang Till the greenwood rang, As they rode off together.

Last night she slept on a goose feather bed With silken sheets for cover; Tonight she sleeps On the cold, cold ground Beside her gypsy lover.

Her father saddled up his fastest steed And roamed the valleys all over Sought his daughter At great speed And the whistling gypsy rover.

He came at last to a mansion fine, Down by the river Claydee And there was music And there was wine, For the gypsy and his lady.

"He is no gypsy, my father" she said "But lord of these lands all over, And I shall stay 'til my dying day With my whistling gypsy rover."

Woyaya

We are going, heaven knows where we are going, We'll know we're there. We will get there, heaven knows how we will get there, We know we will.

It will be hard we know And the road will be muddy and rough, But we'll get there, heaven knows how we will get there, We know we will.

We are going, heaven knows where we are going, We'll know we're there.