SHANTYMAN'S HAIL © Fred Gosbee
This is a thumbnail sketch of the ups and downs of the maritime industry. This song was used in the Turner Broadcasting Company's series Portrait of America for the 60-minute Maine episode.
Hey, Ho! Roll and go!
Round Cape Horn to San Francisco
Shanteyman sing, boys, pull on the line
And we're back in record time
At Bath down in Maine they built many tall ships
They were faired up and planked, then launched down the slips
The strength of our nation was built on the pine
Of the mast-trees that harnessed the wind
There were schooners and sloops and all kinds of small craft
Warships with cannon both foreward and aft
And the queens of the seas, the graceful clippers
Mighty proud men were there skippers
CHORUS
Then the steam-powered ships came along
Their engines replaced the shanteyman's song
And men in the hellish heat down in the hold
Spent their watches shoveling coal
First coal, then oil, then nuclear heat
Replaced all the wind-driven ships in the fleet
And skills handed down for hundreds of years
Have all but disappeared
CHORUS
And where went the tall ships that once sailed so free
Under clouds of white canvas across the salt sea
With the wind in their rigging and foam at the bow
Tell me, where are they now?
Well some were scrapped and some can be found
Like the Luther and the Hesper, up the Sheepscot aground
Some were towed out to deep water and sunk
Regarded as no more than junk
CHORUS
We can't live forever on fuel from the ground
The prices go up and no more will be found
If we're still around for the next age of sail
We might hear that shanteyman hail
CHORUS
THE BALLAD OF CAPPY JOHN ©1991 Fred Gosbee
This started out as a joke but as time has gone on I have found that truth is stranger than fiction. Several daughters and wives of old fishermen have told me "... you know my man would NEVER go out in a fog if he had a cold. Couldn't smell the ledges!" The rockweed that grows on our Maine ledges does have a distinctive odor, so I guess the joke is on me.
The "Mary L. MacKay" is actually the "Effie Morrissey " which sailed from Portland, Maine, to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, (a distance of 220 nautical miles) in eighteen hours back in December, 1913. There is a rousing song about the passage with words written by Frederick William Wallace and published in the Canadian Fisherman magazine in 1914. Portland rum figures heavily in the account.
The schooner went on to become famous for numerous expeditions to the arctic. She still sails today under the name "Bowdoin"
Come all of you brave schooner boys who sail the coast of Maine
Listen to my story and join in the refrain
It's all about a skipper, the best we ever knew
He sailed a stout 4-master with a tough and jolly crew
Many a tale that I could tell you never would believe
Like coming into Pemaquid on a stiff Sou'east'ly breeze
To sail with him the Thread of Life took the courage of a saint
For he'd take the barnacles off her hull but he never touched the paint
He had one eye on the waves, the other on the weather
He saw more with his swivel eye than all of us together
He could find his way on a moonless night dark as dungeon cell
And when the fog was thick as soup, he'd navigate by smell
The tale that I will tell you of began in the usual way
Going to Yarmouth town we passed the Mary L. McKay
We left our cargo on the dock and then stood out for sea
And we met her staggering into port like a drunkard on a spree
Things was fine we was making time on a wind from the Nor'east
When Cappy John says 'Gorry boys, I don't like this in the least
I can tell by the sky and the look of the foam that when the sun goes down
We're gonna be in for a Heluva fog or I ain't Cappy John'
CHORUS
We'd been with Cappy in fog before so we weren't worried none
We figgered we'd make Portland by the rising of the sun
So we stood our watches with hearts as light as swallows in the spring
We didn't know Cappy had caught a cold and he couldn't smell a thing
And Cappy he didn't let on none, why God only knows
Maybe he figgered to steer by sound and wouldn't need his nose
And he didn't tell us to shorten sail though we might have heard him sneeze
Then we plowed right into that bank of fog like a maggot into a cheese
CHORUS
Then Cappy hollered 'Look sharp, boys, I fear we're close to land'
But that fog it was so goldurn thick you couldn't see your hand
And the ship was sailing very queer, up great rough seas and down
We heard strange sounds like moaning groans of sailers who'd been drowned
When the sun came up, 'twas off our stern 'stead of the larboard side
Then, Mister Man, we came to know we'd been on a Heluva ride
For we stood in a field five miles from shore - captain, ship and crew
He lost his way 'cause he couldn't smell but he brought us in on the dew!
CHORUS
RAMONA ©1991 Fred Gosbee
MARK MCNEIL: Cello
I got this story from James E. Stilphen of Bath, Maine, who paints ships portraits and is deeply imbued with local maritime history. While he knew the story and location of the ship, he couldn't remember her name so I used "Ramona" for the chorus until I could find her real name. In the spring of 1991, after I had made the song we took a day and went to Five Islands and found her. She is the 240 foot 5-masted schooner "Mary F. Barret", run aground in 1929 by one Levi Topman. There is indeed a house there made from some of her timbers. She has a pretty big hole in one side and at half-tide you can go inside the hull with a Boston Whaler.
The wind in her rigging sings a song of other days
Though her masts are sprung and there's slack in all her stays
I close my eyes and I remember how it used to be
When me and my Ramona went to sea
Now she don't look like much lying here beside the shore
And me and her won't ever see deep water anymore
We're a couple of old derelicts from another time
Me and my Ramona
We started hauling lumber, ended hauling coal
I was twenty years her master and I loved her heart and soul
So many times she saved us from the fury of the storm
After all these years my memories are warm
CHORUS
I recall how on our last trip when we'd emptied out the hold
The owners came down to me, said Ramona had been sold
They sold her to a scrapper 'cause they couldn't make her pay
I had to get my gear and go away
CHORUS
I couldn't leave here there after all she'd done for me
So I gathered my life-savings and I paid Ramona's fee
Took her up the river and beached her in the sand
Then built this little cabin close at hand
CHORUS
It's been thirty years now since we come aground
Still I walk her weathered deck and think I hear the sound
Of a living tops'l schooner as she runs before the wind
Oh, Ramona, we're still sailing in my mind
CHORUS
THE FISHERMAN'S LIFE ©1984 Julia Lane
Julia wrote this for an old lobsterman, "Tinker", who has since passed away. It is indicative of the attitude of many of the fisherman who would rather fish than anything else.
Well it's up in the morning and stumble downstairs
Have a cup of good coffee to drive chills away
Than it's on with my boots and I'm down to the dock
And by sunrise I'm down the bay
And it's oh, to be fishing upon the sea
The fisherman's life is the only for me
Be it hauling or seining it's borne in the blood
And by sunrise I'm down the bay
Well I have tried working at many a thing
I forgot how to live, I forgot how to sing
I longed for the feel of the sea 'neath my feet
Even though it's not regular pay
CHORUS
My father before me has worked on the sea
And he's passed his experience down to me
I learnt to set traps, and I learnt how to wait
And I learnt what not to say
CHORUS
Someday I'll get old and my legs'll be sore
And they'll tell me I can't go out fishing no more
But I'll smile as my boat turns away from the dock
And I'll sing as I go down the bay
CHORUS
CLAMDIGGER ©1991 Fred Gosbee
This chant is for all those folks who larbor harder and live on less than most of us can imagine is possible. It's a tough life and sometimes the only thing that keeps these people going is the pride of hard work.
You think that diggers have a life of ease
You think they come and go just as they please
In the air and in the sun
A peck or two and then they're done
Ho clams! You need 'em for chowder
Ho clams! You eat 'em with fries
Ho clams! I'll be a digger, I'll be a digger until the day I die
See that old clamdigger in the mud
I guess that digging just gets in your blood
As long as he has kids to feed
His boots and hoe are all he needs
CHORUS
A digger sets his timepiece by the tide
Goes down to the shore when flats are wide
Bends his back and pulls his hoe
Digs as fast as he can go
CHORUS
In wintertime it's cold but still we go
Out on the flats although it's ten below
That onshore breeze is awful chill
If diggin' don't get you the frostbite will
CHORUS
In summertime the diggin' days are long
You get two tides a day if you are strong
Then when you think you're getting ahead
The state man says the tide is red
CHORUS
Red tide means that you can't sell your clams
Means you have to scuttle all your plans
Feed the kids; put off the rent
You have to scrape for every cent
CHORUS
In a restaurant or in your home
Now that you have listened to my song
When you sit and eat your clams
Just remember who I am
CHORUS
MUSCONGUS HORNPIPE ©1999 Fred Gosbee
JULIA LANE: Celtic harp
Muscongus is the old name for Loud's Island, which is about a half mile off Round Pond where we live. The last of the year-round population moved off the island about 1978. There is still a sizable summer community. There is no electricity, no roads or vehicles and (prior to the advent of cell phones) no telephones. It is a good place to slow down. Muscongus seceeded from the United States in 1860 and didn't rejoin until 1935.... but that's another story.
THE OLD LIARS ©1993 Julia Lane
JULIA LANE, CLAIRE CURTIS: Chorus Vocals
Julia made this song from memories of the old fishermen who held court in New Harbor when she was a child. These old men provided a watchful eye as the youngsters played in ways that would be unthinkable to today's parents - sinking each others skiffs, throwing bait juice at each other and searching for treasure under the docks. The names and faces are all real, even though they are all gone now.
Oh what has become of the old liars all
Julian and Manley and Frankie and Paul?
Down at the co-op when fish weren't so few
They'd lie through their teeth and they'd swear it was true
On warm afternoons in the summer we'd go
With handline and bucket to the harbor below
To the dock with the rope and the chains and the spars
Where the weathered old planks smelled of bait and of tar
The fish house was piled high with old fishing gear
With a sign that said something 'bout "All the bull here"
In a big leather armchair a white-haired old man
Would give us a soda and a handful of clams
CHORUS
Sometimes there were others who sat in the shack
A-telling their stories of fishing 'way back
When the weather was better or worse than right now
They always would say it was bigger somehow
They'd tell of the days when they hauled traps by hand
Out in their dories away from the land
In the winter they'd row till their hands would turn blue
And some of the stories you knew could be true
CHORUS
But then they'd continue with never a smile
And tell of the day when they rowed fifty miles
Blinded by fogbanks and capsized by storms
And rescued by mermaids with gold on their arms
Then there was the one 'bout the fisherman's ghost
Doomed to eternity because of a boast
His coming would warn all the sailors of gales
The wilder the weather, the stranger their tales
CHORUS
Then we'd run down the gangplank and bait up our lines
And drop the weight down where the flounder are fine
We'd wait for the tug that sometimes never came
Then we'd go up and bother the old men again
And now that they're gone I feel empty inside
Though people will tell me their jaw was all lies
Their tales were as true as the tide and the breeze
My children will never hear stories like these
CHORUS
STONE SLOOPS © 1995 Fred Gosbee
MARK McNEIL- guitar, bass, chorus vocals
This song was commissioned by Robert Brown of Chebeague Island for the Island Historical Society. He said that he would "rather have it right than Tuesday" so it took me a while to get it together.
In the 19the century along the coast of Maine
There used to sail a fleet of ships there's none like them today
Built for heavy hauling gravel stone and sand
There were no donkey engines then, men pulled the lines by hand
They carried just a singlremast to keep the wide deck clear
The heavy boom when tied athwart left room for lifting gear
They were not built for beauty, they were not built for speed
But for a hundred years or more they served our country's need
Stone sloops from Eastport to Chebeague
Preferred for heavy hauling to ship or schooner rig
Stone sloops sailing far and wide
For a hundred years and more they were the people's pride
After independence our nation was in need
Of stone to build our cities and stone to pave our streets
Quarries by the hundred were along the coast of Maine
To get that stone to market was the stone sloops aim
90 feet in length 30 feet from rail to rail
With a thousand yards of canvas in a single mighty sail
Owned by the captain, named for the captain's wife
It wasn't just a business it was a way of life
CHORUS
The sloops would set out in the spring to find a job to do
With a captain and a mate and a boy to cook for crew
They would work way down in Canada, in Boston or New York
Until the end of June they would stay where there was work
July they'd sail for home just to see the family
But after picnic and parade they'd all return to sea
And be gone until November when the wind began to freeze
Then home to moor for winter in some protected lee
CHORUS
As the years went rolling on fewer sloops set sail
Just a sign of changing times replaced by truck and rail
Junked out and abandoned another one each year
With hardly any notice the stone sloops disappeared
So all that's left is memories and stories handed down
But now it's been collected and in a book it's bound
The ships the captain's families, the tales the old salts tell
The folks down on Chebeague they have kept these treasures well
Chorus
THE WHALE HUNTERS © 1993 Fred Gosbee
MARK McNEIL- bass, percussion
Although Maine was never a center for commercial whaling, ships were built here for the purpose and whales were abundant in our coastal waters
We set out from Portugal in 1634,
Sailed to Baffin Bay and built our tryworks on the shore.
We had come to hunt the right whale and there they did abound.
There were whales in that bay to last forever.
Set your iron, throw the lance and make the kill.
Tow him to the shore; bend your back, boys, with a will!
When that oil is in the hold it will be as good as gold
And there are whales enough to last forever.
We set out from New Bedford in 1853;
To find our catch of whales we had to search the seven seas.
Right whales being scarce we took the humpback sperm & gray
But the seas are wide enough to last forever.
Set your iron, throw the lance and make the kill.
Tow him to the ship; bend your back, boys, with a will!
When that oil is in the hold it will be as good as gold
And there are whales enough to last forever.
We left our port in Russia in 1951
In a deisel powered factory ship armed with a harpoon gun.
The blue and fin that were too fast we now run down with ease
And those whales are big enough to last forever.
Fire your gun let the harpoon make the kill;
Winch him up the ramp and run him through the mill.
When that oil is in the hold it will be as good as gold
And there are whales enough to last forever.
It's 1995 as we set out from Japan;
This is not commercial whaling for there is a whaling ban.
We take them for the research but we don't waste the meat
And we still make profit 'cause we're clever.
Fire your gun; let the harpoon make the kill;
Winch him up the ramp and run him through the mill.
When that oil is in the hold it will be as good as gold
And we'll get our share before they're gone forever.
Fire your gun; let the harpoon make the kill.
We can get around the treaty with our diplomatic skill.
When that oil is in the hold it will be as good as gold!
SONG FOR STAN HUGILL ©1986 Fred Gosbee
JULIA LANE, CLAIRE CURTIS: Chorus vocals
Englishman Stan Hugill, a shanteyman himself in the 1920s, collected the songs later in his life and was instrumental in preserving them and reviving the tradition. We saw him, in his eighties, singing lustily from the rigging of the Charles W Morgan at Mystic Seaport.
Lay onto the line one more time, old man
Sing out and give us a working rhyme
Pull for the old man
These days the sails are just for show
But now before you have to go
Tell us how it was so long ago,old man
Pull for the old man pull
We won't see his like again
Pull for the old man pull
Pull for old Stan
Your eyes have seen the working sail, old man
In summer sun and winter gale
Pull for the old man
You've seen the sail replaced by oil
Gone the tops'l, course and royal
And the songs that helped you with your toil, old man
CHORUS
Your mind is sharp, your eyes are clear, old man
And your arm's still strong after eighty years
Pull for the old man
With your tatooed arm and rolling gait
Your silver hair and your beard so grey
You're a bridge through time to yesterday, old man
CHORUS
So have a drop of Nelson's blood, old man
Then tell us about that scouse and grog
Pull for the old man
Within your songs and books we find
The treasures you've had in your mind
We thank you, you've been very kind, old man
CHORUS
CAPPY JOHN'S BRIDE ©1996 Fred Gosbee
Julia thought that Cappy John might need a new boat after his adventure in the title song, so she put me up to writing this little ditty which was inspired by two sources. One was a song written in Prince Edward Island by Lawrence Doyle (1847-1907) about a deal concerning a horse. I sang it for Morag Henricksen of Skye who told us that the same tradition still exists in the Outer Hebrides only the deal involves a boat.
"Goomer" is a Maine-ism that means, roughly, "oaf". There is a word from old English,"gomer", which originally meant "groomsman" or perhaps "knave" which has evolved from meaning the man who curries the horse to the man who marries the bride. Are they related? Who knows.
"Bundling" is an old Canadian and New England custom where a courting couple is allowed to sleep in the same bed with a barricade of bolsters or sometimes a plank between them. These were supposed to act as speedbumps on love's highway.
When you sing this song, remember - it's about a boat!
Now a skipper that we know who was famous long ago
Was looking for a ship as his was run aground
Though it was sometimes stated 'twas the way he navigated
Ol' Cappy John was rated as the finest man around
Now there was a ship nearby that he wanted for to try
It belonged to Ned McKenzie and was called the Mary Beale
But old John was shy of girls and the place was full of curls
And he didn't have the nerve to go up and make his deal
She carries her bow high and her stern is nice and round
It's easy to hold her when she's sheeted down
She is my heart's desire and all that I require
Is that you let me try her when I come to town
Now the mate, whose name was Dan,
Up and says to the old man
"I can sound McKenzie out and then clear away the girls
I will see that it's alright if you want to go tonight
For that ship she is a sight, she's the best in all the world"
So Dan goes to McKenzie but somehow in all the frenzy
There was some misunderstanding
And he got the message wrong
Or perhaps the silly goomer had a twisted sense of humor
But when Cappy came to woo her he was singing this song
CHORUS
McKenzie shook his hand and he says "I understand
that you want to take my Mary away from me
Now before with you I send her I must tell you she is tender
Which I'll thank you to remember when you take her out to sea"
So John says "Dan must have told that I want to fill her hold;
With a belly full of cargo I know she'll handle fine
I promise not to break her and if ever I forsake her,
Then I know the mate will take her for he's a friend of mine"
CHORUS
Says McKenzie "Are you mad? for you talk just like a cad
To throw my Mary over like some trollop in Rangoon
She isn't just some fun thing (though I might permit some bundling)
And now I will tell you something, you must make your offer soon"
Says John "I can't commit until one thing you permit
You must let me roll her over on the sand beside the bay
I will have my men inspect her and still I may reject her
If her bottom is neglected or has started to decay"
CHORUS
Says McKenzie "I can't stand it; you are worse than any bandit
Since the two of you have planned it 'tis yourselves that should begin"
He called Mary from the kitchenl; Cappy John he started twitchin'
But the girl she was bewitchin' and she smiled as she came in
Now the mate, he oiled the water, and the skipper got the daughter
He's as happy as an otter with his dear and blushing bride
Though it seemed a bright invention he'd the good sense not to mention
That it wasn't his intention, AND HE GOT THE SHIP BESIDES!
CHANGES © 1996 Fred Gosbee
JULIA LANE: Celtic harp
CLAIRE CURTIS: Concertina, chorus vocals
GARY CLANCY: Bass
I have been blessed in my lifetime to see the revival of rivers here in Maine. The Clean Water Act of the 1960's was initiated in the U.S. Senate by the Maine Delegation and became the lynchpin for the environmental reforms which have led to improving air and water quality since then all across the country. You can't let your guard down, though. There always seem to be people out there who cut corners to save a little cash for their interests, usually stockholders these days. When something goes wrong we all pay in many ways
The river runs down and the tide rolls in
It's the same way now that it always has been
The changes in the river, the changes in the sea
Are the changes made by you and by me
What is more lovely than the light on the water
As the moon rises over the bay?
What is more peaceful than a murmuring stream
in the warmth of a long summer's day?
When life gets too crazy and things move too fast
I go the the river and find
The hours spent listening, the hours spent watching
Can bring a deep peace to my mind
CHORUS
Well I remember the streams in the forest
Where I wandered when I was a boy
It seemed to be magic, for each time I'd go there
Was a time filled with wonder and joy
Fishing for trout at the old beaver dam and the log where I sometimes fell in
A time of adventure, a time of exploring;
I wish I could be there again
CHORUS
Most of my life I have lived near a river
A lake or sometimes the sea
I know well the power, have seen all the fury
But that's not what's troubling me
For I have seen greedy ones poison the waters
For the sake of a few dollars saved
When the waste from the mills or the oil that is spilled
Turns a living world into a grave
CHORUS
WAITING FOR THE SNOW ©1987 Fred Gosbee
JULIA LANE: Vocals
I wrote this at a time in my life when I finally got it figured out (some of us are slow learners...)
October's gone, November's here and the trees are standing bare.
Their ragged robes of red and gold have blown away somewhere.
The crops are in, the wood is split, you have no place to go
So bank your fire, settle in and wait for the snow.
That same old wind who stole the leaves now prowls around your door,
Creeps unasked into your house and reminds you what's in store
For he tells you of the days ahead, but you don't want to know
So bank your fire settle in and wait for the snow.
You've heard that old North wind before when another shared your bed;
Held you warm from dark till dawn from the lonliness you dread,
But this time no one goes with you; this time you want it so
So bank your fire, settle in and wait for the snow
You know that winter's on the way; you can see it in the moon,
Cold and pale as a comet's tail; the sun goes down too soon,
And Orien's hunting across the sky with his starry belt,
And you know that he won't go 'till the snow begins to melt.
Another year is over. Turn another page.
That old North wind around your head makes you feel your age.
You're alone but not so lonely as you were awhile ago
So bank your fire, settle in and wait for the snow.
ROLLING HOME ©1984 Fred Gosbee
JULIA LANE; Vocals, Celtic harp
It was years after I had written this song before I heard the double chorus the way I had imagined it in my mind's ear. We were touring Maryland and had a wonderful audience in St Marys City that really sang it well
Rolling home in the morning at the break of dawn
Rolling home 'cross the ocean where I've wandered for so long
Rolling home to my darling that's where I belong
Blow ye winds, run ye tides back to harbor
A sailor's life is dreary far from home
He's often wet and weary out on the salty foam
He is gone for a year, often times more
Hoping that his deary's waitin' for him
CHORUS
Do you want a trip to China? Well, sign on board
Or down under to Australia, pick up a load of wool
Trade for tea in India then bear for home
Hoist the sail, haul the anchor, head for harbor
CHORUS
It isn't very funny when your pay is counted down
There's not a lot of money for the time that you've been gone
So you hug and kiss your honey and hold her while you can
Till the captain says "We're leaving in the morning"
CHORUS
Some men love adventure and some love the sea
Some only love whisky and some love being free
But the only love I need is the love of my lady
Blow ye winds, run ye tides back to harbor
CHORUS
SONG OF THE SEA © 1990 Julia Lane BMI
Walking a windy beach, one imagines the song of the sea itself. Here is what I heard one September afternoon (All the sounds are natural)
Seabird calling, gull wind laughing
Leave the tired shell on shore
Sun dance shining, all are saying
Come to fly the waves once more.
Speckled eagle on the wing
From the ledge the seal-men sing
Oh la lady lady loo
Oh la lady lady low
Too long sighing, too long parted
From your ancient wat'ry home
Come to singing, come to freedom
Once again the sea to roam
Deep and green the fishes throng
From the ledge the seal-men's song
Oh la lady lady loo
Oh la lady lady low
WINDS OF CHANGE © 1990 Julia Lane BMI
Wind and weather have always had a profound effect upon people, their thoughts and activities. Here in New England the
weather's unpredictability "builds character"
MONHEGAN © 1990 Julia Lane BMI
Inspired by an island ten miles offshore. A community of fisherfolk descended from early European explorers still lives there year round.
I could fly
From your high cliffs
I feel as if I'm lighter than air
And far below
In the clear green waves
The somersaulting seals fish and play as they go
Flying through the sea
Oh Monhegan, oh Monhegan
Deep and green is the song you sing
Oh Monhegan, rock and ocean
Oh Monhegan is calling me
Soaring high,
An osprey brings her catch back to her nest
In the tall and fragrant pine
Beneath the moss
Brown roots are reaching deep and clinging fast and strong
To your rocky heart
Oh Monhegan, oh Monhegan
Deep and green is the song you sing
Oh Monhegan, rock and ocean
Oh Monhegan is calling me
THE FISHWIDOW'S SONG © Julia Lane 1990 BMI
Hardy are the women whose men must go to sea. Theirs is a life of balancing practicality and profound faith
Time is passing away with the tide
I should be keeping the score
Roll away time, roll away tide
I don't care any more
The wind is blowing in the clouds
Bringing a storm on it's wings
Red sky at morning, Sailor take warning
I can't fear what it brings
For my life keeps changing with the tide
The only thing that's sure
Is that morning follows after night
The ebb tide rolls to shore
As I watch you come down the bay
I know our time won't be long
One night of sharing, one day of caring
Another verse in our song
SOMETHING TO COME HOME TO © 1983 Julia Lane BMI
Travel down the road, go where your heart may lead
Just remember we all need
Something to come home to.
Somewhere down the way you'll find yourself returning
To good friends and hearthfires burning
And wanting something to come home to.
Turn your head and play your games, make up alibis
You may not even feel the pain until you realize
It's a long hard road and some may leave you crying
But the thing that keeps you trying
Is having something to come home to
THE HOUSE ON THE HILL © 1991 Julia Lane BMI (3:18)
Written for "that house" sitting quietly abandoned in a field inspiring imagination and speculation
High on a hill overlooking the bay
A lovely old house stands alone
Acres and acres of forest and field
Bordered by walls made of stone
Northern lights dance all across the night sky
Glowing with millions of stars
Waterfalls run and apple trees bloom
At the house on the hill in my heart
Someone admired the place where it stands
This hill overlooking the sea
And timber by timber with strong loving hands
A beautiful home came to be
Fires for warming the body and soul
Smoldered at night on the hearth
Waterfalls ran and apple trees bloomed
At the house on the hill in my heart
The barn is now gone and the fields are unmowed
The people are all gone away
And season on season of sunlight and snow
Have weathered the clapboards to gray
Talk in the town is of tearing it down,
Dividing the hillside apart
But waterfalls run and apple trees bloom
At the house on the hill in my heart
LAMENT FOR THE WILD SHORE © 1990 Julia Lane BMI
Although some beautiful, wild coastal lands are being preserved, many are still being lost to development
Back to Song of the Sea
WINDS OF AUTUMN ©1986 Julia Lane BMI (3:09)
Rain lashes the windowpane lit by the glow of an oil lamp at the house on the sea cliff's top...
Oh blow ye winds of Autumn and turn ye leaves to gold
My cottage seems so empty and my bed it feels so cold
My love is on the ocean, he sails the briney sea
Oh blow ye winds of Autumn and bring him back to me
The winter seas will be rolling onto the rocky shore
The bells will be a- tolling for sailors who are no more
My love is on the ocean, he sails the briney sea
Oh blow ye winds of Autumn and bring him back to me
THE PHANTOM SHIP © 1995 Julia Lane BMI
Maine's treacherous rocky coastline has caused many a shipwreck and tales of ghost ships abound
When you went down to the shore last night what did you see?
Did you see a lofty ship sailing fast and free?
Sail away, sail away, sailing fast and free
Sail away, sail away, across the moonlit sea
When I went down to the shore last night a ship I saw
And the moon was like a shining sail there in the rigging tall
Shine away, shine away, there in the rigging tall
Shine away, shine away, a light to guide them all
And there upon that moonlit ship did you see a man
Who stood so tall upon the deck with sailors at command
Standing tall, standing tall, with sailors at command
Standing tall, standing tall so strong of voice and hand
Alas I saw no captain brave standing tall and true
Indeed I saw not a soul on board, neither captain or crew
Not a soul, not a soul did man the ship as she flew
Not a soul, not a soul, and the wind in the rigging blew
THE ISLE OF MALAGA © 1996 Julia Lane BMI
Malaga is a small island located off Sebasco Maine.I heard this story of betrayal from Camilla Sewall of Bath
Once there was a sailor sailing from the coast of Maine
He travelled the West Indies his fortune for to gain
He won the heart of the brown girl with the dark and curling hair
And he promised for to take her to the Isle of Malaga
(He said) Malaga's an island that is full and fresh and fair
There's many a flow'ring garden and orchards flourish there
It's there that you can wait love while I build for us a home
An then we can be married and I never more shall roam
Well this lassie being faithful, she took him at his word
And she left her home and family never thinking to return
She left the lovely Indies, the islands of her heart
To wait upon her sailor on the Isle of Malaga
And it's "When will you return love and take us to our home?
When will you return love and give your babe a name?"
"When in the cold of winter the red, red roses bloom
When apples grow on orange tree then I'll return to you"
Oh, cursed be your body and cursed be your name
And cursed br this place where I must live and die in shame
I never would have loved you, I'd have never travelled far
If I thought I'd be forsaken on the Isle of Malaga
Well eight months being over and the ninth one coming on
This lassie was delivered of a dark and bonny son
And if he is a sailor, may he never break a heart
May he never leave his true love on the Isle of Malaga
MIGRATION © 1995 Julia Lane
Monarch butterflies visit Pemaquid Point on their yearly autumn journey. They gave me this tune while I played there one sunny afternoon
THE RIVER ©1985 Julia Lane BMI
Born in the hills beneath the grasses green
Deep in the ledge so cool and clear and clean
Spilling from the rockface, shining in the sun
Continuing a cycle begun when Earth was young
And the river runs like a spirit flowing free
My spirit's like the river flowing to the sea
Down pour the rains to swell the rippling flood
Down through the hills carrying Earth's lifeblood
Feeding field and forest that line the winding shore
Flowing through the ages; a source of life and more
CHORUS
Joining at last the ocean's wide embrace
Safe in her arms the river slow's it's pace
High up in the heavens the moon so clear and bright
Celebrates the reunion and the waters share her light
CHORUS
RUN BEFORE THE WIND ©1996 Julia Lane BMI
For my dad
May there always be safe haven from the storm
May the sun glow softly on your skin
May the stars shine bright, may the dawn come clear
May you always run before the wind
May you always find a kind and listening ear
May the stranger think of you as kin
May the stars shine bright, may the dawn come clear
May you always run before the wind
And if the world turns you upside down
Remember, it keeps turning 'round
May the tears you shed be only those of joy
May you always be glad of where you've been
May the stars shine bright, may the dawn come clear
May you always run before the wind
My Love is Like a Red Red Rose
Probably Robert Burns' best known romantic lyric, it was only popularized when it was set to this traditional melody by Robert Archibald Smith in1821.
Julia Lane - vocal, Celtic harp
Fred Gosbee -vocal, low whistle
My love is like a red, red rose, that's newly sprung in June.
My love is like a melodie, that's sweetly play'd in tune.
As fair thou art, my bonnie lass, so much in love am I,
And I will love thee still, my dear, till a' the seas gang dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,till a' the seas gang dry
And I will love thee still, my dear, till a' the seas gang dry
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, and the rocks melt wi' the sun!
And I will love thee still, my dear, 'til the sands of life have run.
So fare the weel, my only love! fare the weel awhile!
And I will come again, my dear. tho' t'were ten thousand mile!
Tho' t'were ten thousand mile, my dear, tho' t'were ten thousand mile!
And I will come again, my dear, tho' t'were ten thousand mile!
bonnie- lovely
a'- all
gang- go
wi'- wit
weel- well
Fordell Ball (new words by Jim Dunn)
Written by Scots accordian player Jim Dunn to the old melody "Kelvin Grove" this depicts the desire of a young miner to take his sweetheart to the ball at the "big hoose". The irony is that the local dance at Fordell was held in a tin- roofed shack.
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar, viola
Julia Lane - Celtic harp
Will ye gang tae Fordell Ball, my bonnie lassie-o
Will ye gang tae Fordell Ball, my bonnie lassie-o
Gin ye'll gang tae Fordell Ball
I will dress ye up sae braw
Ye'll be the flooer amang them a', my bonnie lassie-o
There'll be lords and ladies there, my bonnie lassie-o
Wi' powdered wigs and scented hair, my bonnie lassie-o
There'll be lords and ladies there And at you they'll stop and stare
Ye'll be the fairest o' the fair, my bonnie lassie-o
When the dancin' is a' done, my bonnie lassie-o
We will greet the rising sun, my bonnie lassie-o
Wi' the curlew and the hare
We will tak the mornin' air
While the lark she sings sae clear, my bonnie lassie-o
We will bless yon leafy bow'r, my bonnie lassie-o
Where we spent the midnicht hour, my bonnie lassie-o
We will bless yon leafy bow'r
Where we spent the midnicht hour
Neath the hawthorn's scented flower, my bonnie lassie-o
Will ye gang tae Fordell Ball, etc.
gang - go
flooer - flower
amang - among
tak -take
midnicht -midnight
Bonnie Doon (instrumental)
The news of the death in childbirth of the daughter of a friend prompted Burns to write words to this lovely melody.
Julia Lane - Celtic harp
Ae Waukin' O
Sleepless nights are the lot of the passionate and Burns was certainly no stranger to them.
Julia Lane - vocal, Celtic harp
Simmer's a pleasant time
Flooers o' many colours
The water rins ower the heugh,
And I long for my true lover
Aye waukin', O
Waukin' late an' early
Sleep I can get nane
For thinkin' on my dearie.
Syne the nicht comes on
A' the lave are sleepin'
I think on my bonny love
An' I bleer my een wi' greetin'
When I sleep I dream
When I wauk I'm eerie,
Sleep I can get nane
For thinkin' on my dearie.
Aye waukin', O
Waukin' late an' early
Sleep I can get nane
For thinkin' on my dearie.
Simmer-summer
Flooers-flowers
rins-runs
heugh-ledge
aye-always
waukin'-waking
syne-soon
a' the lave-everyone else
bleer my een wi' greetin' - weeping
eerie-distraught
nane-none
Ca' the Yowes (adapted by Burns)
A lovely pastorale collected and "mended" by Burns
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar, low whistles
Julia Lane - Celtic harp
Ca' the yowes tae the knowes
Ca' them where the heather grows
Ca' them where the burnie rows
My bonnie dearie
Hark! The mavis evening sang
Sounding Cluden's woods amang
Then a-faulding let us gang
My bonnie dearie
We'll gae doon by Cluden side
Thro' the hazels spreading wide
O'er the waves that sweetly glide
Tae the moon sae clearly
Yonder's Cluden's silent towers
Where at moonshine midnicht hours
O'er the dewy-bending flowers
Fairies dance sae cheery
Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear
Thou'rt tae love and heaven sae dear
Nocht of ill may come ye near
My bonnie dearie
Fair and lovely as thou art
Thou hast stown my very heart
I can die - but canna pairt
My bonnie dearie
ca'- call
yowes- ewes
knowes - hills
burnie - streamlet
rows - runs
sang - song
amang - among
a-faulding - gathering sheep
gang - go
gae - go
tae - to
sae - so
ghaist - ghost
bogle - bugbear
nocht - nothing
stown - stolen
canna - cannot
Arms Around My Jo (instrumental) © Fred Gosbee 1995
"Jo" is a Scots endearment
Fred Gosbee - violin
Julia Lane - Celtic harp
Song Composed in August
(Also call
Westling Winds
Burns, a farmer, took great delight in the natural world. In this song, inspired by a walk with Margaret Thompson through a ripening field of grain, he enjoys the various birds and deplores the sports hunters.
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar
Julia Lane - vocal
Now westlin winds, and slaught'ring guns
Bring Autumn's pleasant weather;
The Moorcock springs, on whirring wings,
Amang the blooming heather;
Now waving grain, wide o'er the plain,
Delights the weary Farmer;
The moon shines bright, as I rove at night,
To muse upon my Charmer.
The Pairtrick lo'es the fruitfu' fells;
The Plover lo'es the mountains;
The Woodcock haunts the lanely dells;
The soaring Hern the fountains:
Thro' lofty groves, the Cushat roves,
The path o'man to shun it;
The hazel bush o'erhangs the Thrush,
The spreading thorn the Linnet.
Thus ev'ry kind their pleasure find,
The savage and the tender;
Some social join, and leagues combine;
Some solitary wander:
Avaunt, away! the cruel sway,
Tyrannic man's dominion;
The Sportsman's joy, the murd'ring cry,
The flutt'ring, gory pinion!
But Peggy dear, the ev'ning's clear,
Thick flies the skimming Swallow;
The sky is blue, the fields in view,
All fading-green and yellow:
Come let us stray our gladsome way,
And view the charms o' Nature:
The rustling corn, the fruited thorn
And ilka happy creature.
We'll gently walk, and sweetly talk,
While the silent moon shines clearly;
I'll clasp thy waist, and fondly prest,
I'll swear I lo'e thee dearly:
Not vernal show'rs to springtime flow'rs,
Not harvest to the Farmer,
So dear can be, as thou to me,
My fair, my lovely Charmer!
westlin' winds - winds from the west
amang - among
Pairtrick - partridge
lanely - lonely, Hern - heron
Cushat - wood dove
ilka - every
While - until
prest - encouraged
lo'e - love
My Bonnie Greenwood Laddie ©Julia Lane 1995
Julia wrote this for her son, Caleb, a skilled woodsman and white water guide.
Julia Lane - vocal, Celtic harp
Fred Gosbee - low whistle
When the dawn is breaking on the mountain
And the dew is on the grass
You step lightly through the waking forest
Where the silent deer have passed
Oh my bonny greenwood laddie,
Oh my bonnie greenwood boy
You're as light and breezy as the morning
You're my heart's delight and joy
When at noon the blazing sun is shining
Making diamonds on the lake
Like the brook you're laughing in the sunlight
Like the otter splash and play
Oh my bonnie greenwood laddie,
Oh my bonnie greenwood boy
You're cool water in the heat of noonday
You're my heart's delight and joy
In the cool and magic of the evening
As the stars wink in the sky
In the fire's glow your face is shining
With a peaceful quiet light
Oh my bonnie greenwood laddie,
Oh my bonnie greenwood boy
You're the fire lighting up the darkness,
You're my heart's delight and joy
Neil Gow's Lament on the Death of his 2nd Wife (instrumental)
Neil Gow was a fiddler roughly contemporary with Burns who had the good fortune to be celebrated in aristocratic society.
Neil Gow was a fiddler roughly contemporary with Burns who had the good fortune to be celebrated in aristocratic society.
Fred Gosbee - violin
Julia Lane - Celtic harp
Mary Morison
The subject of this song remains under debate as the actual Mary Morison was only met once by Burns and was about 13 at the time. Scholars believe that, since he refers to the piece as "one of his juvenile works", it was written for Alison Begbie, a farmer's daughter whom he courted early in his career.
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar, violin
Julia Lane - Celtic harp
O Mary, at thy window be,
It is the time, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see,
That make the miser's treasure poor:
How blythely would I bide the stour,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward secure,
The lovely Mary Morison.
Yestreen, when to the trembling string
The dance gaed gaily thro' the ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing,
I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
Tho' this was fair, and that was braw,
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said "Among ye a',
Ye are nae Mary Morison."
Oh, Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,
Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?
Or canst thou break that hairt o' his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown;
A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.
bide the stour - struggle against adversity
yestereen - yesterday evening
gaed - went
ha' - hall
braw - splendid in dress
a' - all
nae - not
wha - who
whase - whose
faut - fault
gie - give
canna - cannot
Ettrick
This lyric by Lady John Scott (Alicia Spottiswoode 1810-1900) was set to music by 20th c Scottish singer Archie Fisher
Julia Lane - vocal, Celtic harp
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 2nd cello
Doreen Conboy - lead cello
When we first rode down Ettrick,
Our bridles were ringing, our hearts were dancing,
The water was singing, the sun was glancing,
And blithely our voices rang out together,
As we brushed the dew from the blooming heather,
When first we rode down Ettrick.
When we next rode down Ettrick,
The day was dying, the wild birds calling,
The wind was sighing, the leaves were falling,
And tired and weary, but closer together,
We urged our steeds through the faded heather,
When next we rode down Ettrick.
When I last rode down Ettrick,
The wind was shifting, the storm was waking,
The snows were drifting, my heart was breaking,
For never again would we ride together
Through sun or storm on the mountain heather,
When last I rode down Ettrick.
Ae Fond Kiss
In 1791 Burns penned this for "Clarinda" (Agnes/ Nancy Mc lehose ) one of his more long term lovers. She was on her way to join her husband in the West Indies.
Julia Lane - vocal, Celtic harp
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae fareweel, and then forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Wha shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him ?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy:
Naething could resist my Nancy!
But to see her was to love her
Love but her, and love for ever.
Had we never lov'd sae kindly,
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met - or never pairted -
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure!
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, alas, for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee
ae - one
fareweel - farewell
wha - who
while - until
nae - no
naething - nothing
ilka - every
MINGULAY BOAT SONG / WESTERING HOME
Scottish- Hugh S. Roberton
Chorus:
Ilya ho boys, let her go boys
Turn her head round now all together
Ilya ho boys, let her go boys
Sailing homeward to Mingulay
What care we how white the minch is
What care we for wind and weather?
When we know that every inch is
Wearing homeward to Mingulay
Wives are waiting on the bank
Or looking seaward from the heather
Turn her round boys and we'll anchor
'ere the sun sets in Mingulay
--------------------------
Westering home and a song in the air
Light in the eye and it's goodbye to care
Laughter or love and a welcoming there
Land of my heart my own one
Tell me a tale of the Orient gay
Speak of the riches and joys of Cathay
Aye but it's grand to be waking each day
To find myself closer to Islay
Where are there folk like the folk of the West?
Couthy and canty and kindly the best
There I will hie and there I will rest
There with my ain folk in Islay!
ISLANDS IN TIME © Nik Apollonio
Wind on the water come blow me Downeast again
Back to my islands in time
Wings on my friendship will carry me home again
Back to my islands in time
Dark spruce and granite stand watch on the turning tide
Foghorn and beacon and bell be my guide
Mussel Ridge and Isle au Haut, Vinalhaven, Jericho
There lie my islands in time
Far on my dreamtide I hear them calling me
Back to my islands in time
Southwind in springtime will carry me east again
Back to my islands in time
Dark spruce and granite etc.
THE OLD LIARS ©1993 Julia Lane BMI
Oh what has become of the old liars all
Julian and Manley and Frankie and Paul ?
Down at the co-op when fish weren't so few
They'd lie through their teeth and they'd swear it was true
On warm afternoons in the summer we'd go
With handline and bucket to the harbor below
To the dock with the rope and the chains and the spars
Where the weathered old planks smelled of bait and of tar
The fish house was piled high with old fishing gear
With a sign that said something 'bout "All the bull here"
In a big leather armchair a white-haired old man
Would give us a soda and a handful of clams
Sometimes there were others who sat in the shack
A-telling their stories of fishing 'way back
When the weather was better or worse than right now
They always would say it was bigger somehow
They'd tell of the days when they hauled traps by hand
Out in their dories away from the land
In the winter they'd row till their hands would turn blue
And some of the stories you knew could be true
But then they'd continue with never a smile
And tell of the day when they rowed fifty miles
Blinded by fogbanks and capsized by storms
And rescued by mermaids with gold on their arms
Then there was the one 'bout the fisherman's ghost
Doomed to eternity because of a boast
His coming would warn all the sailors of gales
The wilder the weather, the stranger their tales
Then we'd run down the gangplank and bait up our lines
And drop the weight down where the flounder are fine
And wait for the tug that sometimes never came
Then we'd go up and bother the old men again
And now that they're gone I feel empty inside
Though people will tell me their jaw was all lies
Their tales were as true as the tide and the breeze
My children will never hear stories like these
CAPPY JOHN'S BRIDE ©1996 Fred Gosbee BMI
Now a skipper that we know who was famous long ago
Was looking for a ship as his was run aground
Though it was sometimes stated 'twas the way he navigated
Ol' Cappy John was rated as the finest man around
Now there was a ship nearby that he wanted for to try
It belonged to Ned McKenzie and was called the Mary Beale
But old John was shy of girls and the place was full of curls
And he didn't have the nerve to go up and make his deal
She carries her bow high and her stern is nice and round
It's easy to hold her when she's sheeted down
She is my heart's desire and all that I require
Is that you let me try her when I come to town
Now the mate, whose name was Dan,
Up and says to the old man
"I can sound McKenzie out and then clear away the girls
I will see that it's alright if you want to go tonight
For that ship she is a sight, she's the best in all the world"
So Dan goes to McKenzie but somehow in all the frenzy
There was some misunderstanding
And he got the message wrong
Or perhaps the silly goomer had a twisted sense of humor
But when Cappy came to view her he was singing this song
McKenzie shook his hand and he says "I understand
that you want to take my Mary away from me
Now before with you I send her I must tell you she is tender
Which I'll thank you to remember when you take her out to sea"
So John says "Dan must have told that I want to fill her hold;
With a belly full of cargo I know she'll handle fine
I promise not to break her and if ever I forsake her ,
Then I know the mate will take her for he's a friend of mine"
Says McKenzie "Are you mad? for you talk just like a cad
To throw my Mary over like some trollop in Rangoon
She isn't just some fun thing (though I might permit some bundling)
But I will tell you one thing, you must make your offer soon"
Says John "I can't commit , until one thing you permit
You must let me roll her over on the sand beside the bay
I will have my men inspect her and still I may reject her
If her bottom is neglected or has started to decay"
Says McKenzie "I can't stand it ; you are worse than any bandit
Since the two of you have planned it
'tis yourselves that should begin"
He called Mary from the kitchen :Cappy John he started twitchin'
But the girl she was bewitchin' and she smiled as she came in
Now the mate, he oiled the water,
And the skipper got the daughter
He's as happy as an otter with his dear and blushing bride
Though it seemed a bright invention
He'd the good sense not to mention
That it wasn't his intention,
AND HE GOT THE SHIP BESIDES!
THE PHANTOM SHIP © 1995 Julia Lane BMI
When you went down to the shore last night what did you see?
Did you see a lofty ship sailing fast and free?
Sail away, sail away, sailing fast and free
Sail away, sail away, across the moonlit sea
When I went down to the shore last night a ship I saw
And the moon was like a shining sail there in the rigging tall
Shine away, shine away, there in the rigging tall
Shine away, shine away, a light to guide them all
And there upon that moonlit ship did you see a man
Who stood so tall upon the deck with sailors at command
Standing tall, standing tall, with sailors at command
Standing tall, standing tall so strong of voice and hand
Alas I saw no captain brave standing tall and true
Indeed I saw not a soul on board, neither captain or crew
Not a soul, not a soul did man the ship as she flew
Not a soul, not a soul, and the wind in the rigging blew
THREE FISHERS
Words by Charles Kingsley / Music by Stan & Garnet Rogers
Three fishers went sailing out into the west
Into the west as the sun went down
Each thought on the woman who loved him the best
And the children stood watching them out of the town
For men must work and women must weep
For there's little to earn and there's many to keep
Though the harbor bar be moaning
Though the harbor bar be moaning
Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower
And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down
They looked at the squall and they looked at the shower
And the night wrack came rolling up ragged and brown
For men must work and women must weep
Though the storms be sudden and the waters be deep
And the harbor bar be moaning
And the harbor bar be moaning
Three corpses lay out on the shining sand
In the morning gleam as the tide went down
And the women are weeping and wringing their hands
For those who will never come home to the town
For men must work and women must weep
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep
And goodbye to the bar and it's moaning
And goodbye to the bar and it's moaning
For men must work and women must weep
For there's little to earn and there's many to keep
Though the harbor bar be moaning
Though the harbor bar be moaning
BOAT BLESSING © Frank Gotwals BMI
Bless this boat
And those who take her out upon the northern seas
Always carry them to plenty
And bring them safely home again
Homeward Bound, Homeward Bound
Once you were
A dream that led a young heart to the waiting sea
Generations ask in silence
Bring them safely home again
Homeward Bound, Homeward Bound
Brave the gales of late November
Find a path through summer fog
Weather all the storms of winter
April brings new hope
Bless this boat
And those who take her out to work the northern deep
Take them to good life and living
And bring them safely home again
Homeward Bound, Homeward Bound
Homeward Bound, Homeward Bound
THE LIGHTHOUSE ON THE SHORE © 2003 Julia Lane BMI
I see a beacon on the rocks above the swirling foam
A shining light that through the night is welcoming us home
And in the morning standing proudly in the rising sun
It signals to all wanderers their new day has begun
Chorus:
The Lighthouse on the Shore, wherever we may roam
The Lighthouse on the Shore will guide the traveler home
When sailing vessels plowed the seas for fortune and for fame
All sailors feared the dangers on the rocky coast of Maine
They prayed for mercy from the wild and restless wind and wave
And for a guiding light to keep them from a watery grave
Our fathers built the lighthouse for the benefit of all
For ships of every nation, for vessels great and small
Just as it lifts the spirits of the mariner homeward bound
We too can find direction when there's darkness all around
I'S THE B'Y Trad Newfoundland
I's the b'y that builds the boat,
and I's the b'y that sails her,
I's the b'y that catches the fish,
And takes 'em home to Liza.
Hip your partner, Sally Tibble,
Hip your partner, Sally Brown,
Fogo, Twillingate, Morton's Harbour,
All around the circle
I took Liza 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 needs a border,
Old Sir Oliver in the dark
He kissed her in the corner!
Sods and rinds to cover your flake,
Tay and cake for supper,
Codfish in the spring of the year,
Fried in maggoty butter!
RUN BEFORE THE WIND ©1996 Julia Lane BMI
May there always be safe haven from the storm
May the sun glow softly on your skin
May the stars shine bright, may the dawn come clear
May you always run before the wind
May you always find a kind and listening ear
May the stranger think of you as kin
May the stars shine bright, may the dawn come clear
May you always run before the wind
And if the world turns you upside down
Remember, it keeps turning 'round
May the tears you shed be only those of joy
May you always be glad of where you've been
May the stars shine bright, may the dawn come clear
May you always run before the wind
1) RANTIN' ROVIN' ROBIN
Tune- Dainty Davie
An autobiographical song in the form of a prophecy by the palm-reading midwife who attended Burns' birth written by a 27 year old man well pleased with himself . The "Monarch's hindmost year" refers to the year before the death of KIng George.The "blast o' Januar wind" was a gale which did, in fact, blow down the chimney wall of the house William Burness, his father, had built. Young Robert and his mother were removed to a neighbor's house while repairs were made.
