1
PROGRAM TEXTS
OLD AND NEW AMERICAN SONGS
ZION’S WALLS
Aaron Copland
There I let my passion loose
An’ they cram me in the callaboose.
O dance the boatmen dance ...
Come fathers and mothers,
Come sisters and brothers,
Come join us in singing the praises of Zion.
O fathers don’t you feel determined
To meet within the walls of Zion.
We’ll shout and go round the walls of Zion.
High row the boatmen row, etc.
LONG TIME AGO
Aaron Copland
High row the boatmen row, etc.
On the lake where drooped the willow,
Long time ago,
Where the rock threw back the billow,
Brighter than snow.
Dwelt a maid beloved and cherished
By high and low.
But with autumn leaf she perished,
Long time ago.
Rock and tree and flowing water,
Long time ago,
Bird and bee and blossom taught her
Love’s spell to know.
While to my fond words she listen’d,
Murmuring low,
Tenderly her blue eyes glistened,
Long time ago.
THE BOATMEN’S DANCE
Aaron Copland
High row the boatmen row,
Floatin’ down the river, the Ohio.
The boatmen dance, the boatmen sing,
The boatmen up to ev’rything,
And when the boatman gets on shore,
He spends his cash and works for more.
Then dance the boatmen dance,
O dance the boatmen dance.
O dance all night ‘til broad daylight,
And go home with the gals in the mornin’.
High row the boatmen row, etc.
I went on board the other day
To see what the boatmen had to say.
The boatman is a thrifty man,
There’s none can do as the boatman can.
I never see a pretty gal in my life
But that she was a boatman’s wife.
O dance the boatmen dance ....
THE OLD GRANITE STATE
Edited by Robert De Cormier
We have come from the mountains,
We have come from the mountains,
We have come from the mountains
Of the “Old Granite State.”
We’re a band of brothers,
We’re a band of brothers,
We’re a band of brothers
And we live among the hills.
With a band of music,
With a band of music,
With a band of music
We are passing round the world.
We have left our aged parents,
We have left our aged parents,
We have left our aged parents
In the “Old Granite State.”
We obtained their blessing,
We obtained their blessing,
We obtained their blessing
And we bless them in return.
Good old-fashion’d singers,
Good old-fashion’d singers,
Good old-fashion’d singers,
They can make the air resound.
Yes, while the air is ringing
With their wild mountain singing,
We the news to you are bringing
From the “Old Granite State.”
2
Liberty is our motto,
Liberty is our motto,
Equal liberty is our motto
In the “Old Granite State.”
We despise oppression,
We despise oppression,
We despise oppression,
And we cannot be enslaved.
Yes, we’re friends of emancipation
And we’ll sing the proclamation
‘Til it echoes through our nation
From the “Old Granite State,”
That the tribe of Jesse,
That the tribe of Jesse,
That the tribe of Jesse
Is the friend of equal rights.
Like our sires before us,
We will swell the chorus
‘Til the heavens o’er us
Shall resound the loud huzzah.
Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
Huzzah! Huzzah! Huzzah!
Like our sires before us,
We will swell the chorus
‘Til the heavens o’er us
Shall resound the loud huzzah.
EIGHT DOLLARS A DAY
Jesse Hutchinson, Jr.
At Washington, full once a year,
Do politicians throng,
Contriving there by various arts
To make their sessions long.
And many a reason do they give
Why they’re obliged to stay,
But the clearest reason yet adduced
Is eight dollars a day.
Just go with me to the Capitol,
If you really would behold
All that imagination craves,
And more than e’er was told.
D’ye see the city av’nue swarms
With members grave and gay,
And what d’ye s’pose they’re thinking of?
Eight dollars a day.
All Washington is wide awake,
And all the big hotels
Are fill’d with Representatives
And O! how liquor sells;
It cannot well be otherwise,
For think you men will play
The national tune without their grog
Of eight dollars a day.
Now to the Senate chamber first,
Then to the House we’ll go,
And learn a lesson while we may
Of patriotic show.
The roll is called and quorum form’d
When the chaplains rise to pray,
And then the national work begins
At eight dollars a day.
There is an axiom known to all
And rather old, I ween,
For ‘tis a common household phrase
And very often seen;
That those who’re fools enough to dance
The fiddler too must pay,
So Congress fiddles us the tune
Of eight dollars a day.
But a day of reck’ning’s coming on,
Behold the gathering storm,
For the people are the sov’reigns yet,
And they demand reform;
From North and South the shout is heard
And Congress must obey,
Or quit their seats for better men,
At eight dollars a day.
SHENANDOAH
Traditional Chantey
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you,
Away, you rolling river.
Oh, Shenandoah, I long to hear you,
Away, we’re bound away,
‘Cross the wide Missoura.
Oh Shenandoah, I love your daughter,
Away, you rolling river.
I’ve crossed for her the rolling water,
Away, we’re bound away,
‘Cross the wide Missoura.
Oh, fare you well, I’m bound to leave you,
Away, you rolling river.
Oh, Shenandoah, I’ll not deceive you,
Away, we’re goin’ away,
‘Cross the wide Missoura.
3
MODERN MUSICK
William Billings
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
We are met for a Concert of modern Invention;
To tickle the Ear is our present Intention.
The Audience are seated expecting to be treated
With a piece of the best.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverg’d in a wood, and I –
I took the one less travel’d by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost
And since we all agree to set the Tune on E,
The Author’s darling Key he prefers to the Rest,
Let the Bass take the Lead and firmly proceed,
Let the Tenor succeed and follow the Lead,
‘Till the Parts are agreed to Fuge away.
Let the Counter inspire the Rest of the Choir,
Inflam’d with Desire to Fuge away.
Let the Treble in the Rear no longer forbear,
But expressly declare for a Fuge away.
Then change to brisker Time
And up the Ladder climb, and down again;
Then mount the second Time and end the Strain.
Then change the Key to pensive Tones
And slow in treble Time; the Notes exceeding low.
Keep down a While, then rise by slow Degrees;
The Process surely will not fail to please.
Thro’ Common and Treble we jointly have run;
We’ll give you their Essence compounded in one.
Altho’ we are strongly attach’d to the Rest,
Six-four is the Movement that pleases us best.
THE COOLIN
Samuel Barber
Come with me, under my cloak,
And we will drink our fill
Of the milk of the white goat,
Or wine if it be thy will.
And we will talk, until Talk is a trouble, too,
Out on the side of the hill,
And nothing is left to do,
But an eye to look into an eye,
And a hand in a hand to slip,
And a sigh to answer a sigh;
And a lip to find out a lip!
And now we address you as Friends to the Cause;
Performers are modest and write their own Laws.
Altho’ we are sanguine and clap at the Bars,
‘Tis the Part of the Hearers to clap their Applause.
from The Psalm-Singer’s Amusement (1790)
What if the night be black!
And the air on the mountain chill!
Where the goat lies down in her track,
And all but the fern is still!
Stay with me, under my coat!
And we will drink our fill
Of the milk of the white goat,
Out on the side of the hill!
James Stephens
THE ROAD NOT TAKEN
Randall Thompson
LIKE SNOW
Morten Lauridsen
Two roads diverg’d in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one trav’ler, long I stood
And look’d down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
She, then, like snow in a dark night,
Fell secretly. And the world waked
With dazzling of the drowsy eye,
So that some muttered “Too much light,”
And drew the curtains close.
Like snow, warmer than fingers feared,
And to soil friendly;
Holding the histories of the night
In yet unmelted tracks.
Robert Graves
Then took the other as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
4
SOMEWHERE
Leonard Bernstein
There’s a place for us,
Somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us somewhere.
There’s a time for us,
Someday a time for us.
Time together with time to spare.
Time to learn, time to share.
Someday! Somewhere!
We’ll find a new way of living.
We’ll find a way of forgiving.
Somewhere.
There’s a place for us,
A time and place for us.
Hold my hand and we’re halfway there.
Hold my hand and I’ll take you there.
Somehow... Someday... Somewhere!
Stephen Sondheim
LET’S DO IT
Cole Porter
When the little bluebird, who has never said a word,
Starts to sing: “Spring, spring”;
When the little bluebell, in the bottom of the dell,
Starts to ring: “Ding, ding”;
When the little blue clerk, in the middle of his work,
Starts a tune to the moon up above;
It is nature, that’s all,
Simply telling us to fall in love.
And that’s why birds do it, bees do it,
Even educated fleas do it,
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love.
In Spain the best upper sets do it,
Lithuanians and Letts do it,
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love.
The Dutch in old Amsterdam do it,
Not to mention the Finns.
Folks in Siam do it, think of Siamese twins.
Some Argentines without means do it,
People say, in Boston even beans do it,
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love.
Romantic sponges, they say, do it,
Oysters down in Oyster Bay do it,
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love.
Cold Cape Cod clams, ‘gainst their wish, do it,
Even lazy jellyfish do it,
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love.
Electric eels, I might add, do it,
Though it shocks ‘em, I know.
Why ask if shad do it – waiter, bring me shad roe!
In shallow shoals, English soles do it,
Goldfish, in the privacy of bowls, do it,
Let’s do it, let’s fall in love!
Cole Porter
OVER THE RAINBOW
Harold Arlen
When all the world is a hopeless jumble
And the raindrops tumble all around,
Heaven opens a magic lane.
When all the clouds darken up the skyway
There’s a rainbow highway to be found,
Leading from your window pane
To a place behind the sun,
Just a step beyond the rain.
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high,
There’s a land that I’ve heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.
Someday I’ll wish upon a star,
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops, that’s where you’ll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can’t I?
If happy little bluebirds fly above the rainbow,
Why, oh, why can’t I?
E. Y. Harburg
BLUE SKIES
Irving Berlin
I was blue, just as blue as I could be.
Ev’ry day was a cloudy day for me.
Then good luck came a-knocking at my door.
Skies were gray, but they’re not gray anymore.
Blue skies smiling at me.
Nothing but blue skies do I see.
Bluebirds singing a song.
Nothing but bluebirds all day long.
Never saw the sun shining so bright,
Never saw things going so right.
Noticing the days hurrying by –
When you’re in love, my, how they fly.
Blue days, all of them gone.
Nothing but blue skies from now on.
I should care if the wind blows east or west.
I should fret if the worst looks like the best.
I should mind if they say it can’t be true.
I should smile, that’s exactly what I do.
Blue skies, etc.
5
ALL THE THINGS YOU ARE
Jerome Kern
THE NYMPH’S REPLY TO THE SHEPHERD
Robert Harris
Time and again I’ve longed for adventure,
Something to make my heart beat the faster.
What did I long for? I never really knew.
Finding your love, I’ve found my adventure.
Touching your hand, my heart beats the faster.
All that I want in all of this world is you.
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love.
You are the promised kiss of springtime
That makes the lonely winter seem long.
You are the breathless hush of evening
That trembles on the brink of a lovely song.
You are the angel glow that lights a star.
The dearest things I know are what you are.
Someday, my happy arms will hold you,
And someday, I’ll know that moment divine
When all the things you are, are mine.
Oscar Hammerstein II
INTERMISSION
POETRY AND SONGS FROM THE
BRITISH ISLES
NOW IS THE MONTH OF MAYING
Thomas Morley
Now is the month of maying,
When merry lads are playing, fa la, la.
Each with his bonny lass
Upon the greeny grass. Fa la, la.
Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,
And Philomel* becometh dumb;
The rest complains of cares to come.
*the nightingale
The flowers do fade, and wanton fields
To wayward winter reck’ning yields;
A honey tongue, a heart of gall,
Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.
Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies
Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten,
In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
Thy belt of straw and ivy buds,
Thy coral clasps and amber studs,
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love.
But could youth last and love still breed,
Had joys no date* nor age no need,
Then these delights my mind might move
To come with thee and be thy love.
*ending
Sir Walter Raleigh
The Spring, clad all in gladness,
Doth laugh at Winter’s sadness, fa la, la.
And to the bagpipe’s sound
The nymphs tread out their ground. Fa la, la.
EARLY ONE MORNING
Old English
Fie then! why sit we musing,
Youth’s sweet delight refusing? Fa la, la.
Say, dainty nymphs, and speak,
Shall we play barley-break? Fa la, la.
Early one morning, just as the sun was rising,
I heard a maid sing in the valley below:
“Oh, don’t deceive me, oh, never leave me!
How could you use a poor maiden so?
THIS SWEET AND MERRY MONTH OF MAY
William Byrd
“Gay is the garland and fresh are the roses
I’ve cull’d from the garden to bind on thy brow.
Oh, don’t deceive me, etc.
This sweet and merry month of May,
While Nature wantons in her prime,
And birds do sing, and beasts do play
For pleasure of the joyful time.
I choose the first for holiday,
And greet Eliza with a rhyme:
O beauteous Queen of second Troy,
Take well in worth a simple toy.
“Remember the vows that you made to your Mary,
Remember the bow’r where you vow’d to be true.
Oh, don’t deceive me,” etc.
Thus sang the poor maiden, her sorrows bewailing,
Thus sang the poor maid in the valley below:
“Oh, don’t deceive me,” etc.
6
THE TURTLEDOVE
English Folk Song
A RED, RED ROSE
James Mulholland
Fare thee well, my dear, I must be gone
And leave you for a while;
For though I go, I’ll come back again,
Though I roam ten thousand miles, my dear,
Though I roam ten thousand miles.
O, my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June.
O, my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
So fair thou art, my lovely lass,
So deep in love am I.
But I won’t prove false to the lass I love
‘Til the stars fall from the sky, my dear,
‘Til the stars fall from the sky.
The crow that’s black, my dear, my love,
Shall change its colors white;
Before I am false to the one I love,
The noonday shall be night, my dear,
The noonday shall be night.
O yonder sits a turtledove,
He sits on yonder high tree,
A-making a moan for the loss of his love,
As I will do for you.
I will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands of life shall run.
Till the seas gang dry, my dear,
And rocks melt with the sun!
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I,
I will come again, my luve,
Tho’ it were ten thousand mile!
Robert Burns
SONGS OF GEORGE AND IRA GERSHWIN
SING OF SPRING
THE DARK EYED SAILOR
Traditional
It was a comely young lady fair,
Was walking out for to take the air;
She met a sailor all on her way,
So I paid attention to what they did say.
Said William, “Lady, why walk alone?
The night is coming and the day near gone.”
She said, while tears from her eyes did fall,
“It’s a dark eyed sailor that’s proving my downfall.
“It’s two long years since he left the land;
He took a gold ring from off my hand;
We broke the token, here’s part with me,
And the other lies rolling at the bottom of the sea.”
Then half the ring did young William show,
She was distracted midst joy and woe.
“O welcome, William, I’ve lands and gold
For my dark eyed sailor, so manly true and bold.”
Then in a village down by the sea,
They joined in wedlock and well agree.
So maids be true while your love’s away,
For a cloudy morning brings forth a shining day.
Spring is here, sing willy-wally-willo!
Spring is here, sing tilly-tally-tillo!
Winter’s past. tra-la-lillo!
The shepherd, free at last, sings piminy mo!
Jug-a, jug-a, jug!
Spring appears, the ploughboy starts to carol;
Spring appears, we don our gay apparel,
And fa, la, la! we all rejoice!
Come, lift up ev’ry voice
And sing of spring!
A FOGGY DAY
I was a stranger in the city.
Out of town were the people I knew.
I had that feeling of self-pity.
What to do? What to do? What to do?
The outlook was decidedly blue,
But as I walked through the foggy streets alone,
It turned out to be the luckiest day I’ve known.
A foggy day in London Town
Had me low and had me down.
I viewed the morning with alarm.
The British Museum had lost its charm.
How long, I wondered, could this thing last?
But the age of miracles hadn’t passed,
For, suddenly, I saw you there
And through foggy London Town
The sun was shining everywhere.
7
SOMEONE TO WATCH OVER ME
There’s a saying, old, says that love is blind,
Still we’re often told, seek and ye shall find.
So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind.
Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet,
He’s the big affair I cannot forget,
Only man I ever think of with regret.
I’d like to add his initial to my monogram.
Tell me, where is the shepherd for this lost lamb.
There’s a somebody I’m longing to see,
I hope that he turns out to be
Someone who’ll watch over me.
I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood,
I know I could always be good
To one who’ll watch over me.
Although he may not be the man
Some girls think of as handsome,
To my heart he carries the key.
Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed,
Follow my lead ... oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me.
Although he may not be the man
Some girls think of as handsome,
To my heart he carries the key.
Won’t you tell him all my love I will save,
I’ll be his slave ... oh, how I crave
Someone to watch over me.
OH LADY BE GOOD
Listen to my tale of woe,
It’s terribly sad but true,
All dressed up, no place to go.
Each evening I’m awfully blue.
I must win some winsome miss;
Can’t go on like this.
I could blossom out, I know,
With somebody just like you, so,
Oh, sweet and lovely lady, be good!
Oh, lady, be good to me!
I am so awf’ly misunderstood,
So lady, be good to me.
Oh, please have some pity.
I’m all alone in this big city.
I tell you, I’m just a lonesome babe in the wood,
So lady, be good to me!
Auburn and brunette and blonde,
I love ‘em all, tall or small.
But somehow they don’t grow fond,
They stagger but never fall.
Winter’s gone, and now it’s Spring!
Love! where is thy sting?
If somebody won’t respond,
I’m going to end it all, so,
Oh, sweet and lovely lady, be good!
Oh lady, be good to me!
I am so awf’ly misunderstood,
So lady be good to me.
This is tulip weather,
So let’s put two and two together.
I tell you, I’m just a lonesome babe in the wood,
So lady, be good to me!
EMBRACEABLE YOU
Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you!
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you!
Just one look at you, my heart grew tipsy in me:
You and you alone bring out the gypsy in me!
I love all the many charms about you.
Above all, I want my arms about you.
Don’t be a naughty baby...
Come to Papa, come to Papa, do,
My sweet embraceable you.
Dozens of guys would storm up,
I had to lock my door.
Somehow I couldn’t warm up to one before.
What was it that controlled me?
What kept my love-life lean?
My intuition told me you’d come on the scene.
Honey, listen to the rhythm of my heartbeat,
And you’ll get just what I mean.
Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you!
Embrace me, you irreplaceable you!
In your arms I find love so delectable, dear,
I’m afraid it isn’t quite respectable, dear.
But hang it; come on, let’s glorify love!
Ding dang it; you’ll shout “encore” if I love!
Don’t be a naughty baby ...
Come to Mama, come to Mama, do,
My sweet embraceable you.
8
THE LOST BARBER SHOP CHORD
Seated one day at the barber’s.
A place up in Harlem that harbors
Four barbers who certainly could harmonize.
I listened to them in amazement,
Not caring what minutes or days meant,
For Lordy! they certainly could vocalize.
Suddenly I heard them strike a chord,
Felt my miseries go overboard;
Seemed as if I heard the angels hum.
Seemed as if I were in Kingdom Come.
“Sing it again,” I entreated.
But oh! it was never repeated.
I cried out,
But it died out.
I’m looking for that lost barbershop chord –
(Where can it be?)
I’m looking for that lost barbershop chord –
(Come back to me!)
I’m growing grey, searching night-time and day.
When is it coming to stay?
I’m looking for that lost barbershop chord –
(Sweet misery!)
For it will bring eternal jubilee!
I’m looking high, I’m looking low;
Before I die, I want to know
What happened to that heav’nly lost barbershop chord?
Where can it be, where can it be?