1
The Ballad of Barbara Allen
Was in the merry month of May
When green buds all were swelling,
Sweet William on his death bed lay
For love of Barbara Allen.
He sent his servant to the town
To the place where she was dwelling,
Said you must come, to my master dear
If your name be Barbara Allen.
So slowly, slowly she got up
And slowly she drew nigh him,
And the only words to him did say
Young man I think you're dying.
He turned his face unto the wall
When we were in the tavern,
Good-bye, good-bye, to my friends all
Be good to Barbara Allen.
When he was dead and laid in grave
She heard the death bells melling
And every stroke to her did say
Hard hearted Barbara Allen.
Oh mother, oh mother go dig my grave
Make it both long and narrow,
Sweet William died of love for me
And I will die of sorrow.
And father, oh father, go dig my grave
Make it both long and narrow,
Sweet William died on yesterday
And I will die tomorrow.
Barbara Allen was buried in the old churchyard
Sweet William was buried beside her,
Out of sweet William's heart, there grew a rose
From Barbara's a green briar.
They grew and grew in the old churchyard
Till they could grow no higher
At the end they formed, a true lover's knot
And the rose grew round the briar.
2
Banks of Allen Water
On the banks of Allen Water,
Where the sweet springtime did fall,
Was the lovely miller’s daughter,
The fairest of them all,
For his bride a soldier sought her
A winning tongue had he,
On the banks of Allen Water,
None was so gay as she.
On the banks of Allen Water,
When brown autumn spread its stores
When I saw the miller’s daughter,
There she smiled no more,
For the summer grief had brought her
And the soldier false was he,
On the banks of Allen Water,
None was so sad as she.
On the Banks of Allen Water,
When the winter snow fell fast,
Still was seen the miller’s daughter,
Chilling blew the blast,
But the miller’s lovely daughter:
Both from cold and care was free
On the banks of Allen Water;
There a corpse lay she.
3
Men Behind The Guns
Let's drink a toast to the admiral,
and here's to the captain bold,
and glory more for the commodore,
when the deeds of might are told.
And well they know the cyclone blow
loose from the cannon's steel.
The know the hull of the enemy ship
will quiver with the (peal?).
They stand to the deck with the battle's wreck,
when the great shells roar and pound,
and never they fear when the foe is near
to lay their orders down--
And the decks will rock with the lightning shock
and shake with the great recoil
while the sea grows red with the blood of the dead
and swallows up her spoil.
But off with your hats and three times three
for every sailor's son,
for the men below who fight the foe,
the men behind the guns:
oh, the men behind the guns.
But not until the final ship
has made her final run
can we give their rest to the very best:
to the lads who serve the guns -oh, the men behind the guns.
Their hearts a-pounding heavy when
they swing to port once more -with never enough of the greenback stuff,
they start for the leave ashore.
Let's drink a toast to the admiral,
and here's to the captain bold,
and glory more for the commodore,
when the deeds of might are told.
And you'd think perhaps the blue-blouse chaps
had better clothes to wear,
for the uniforms of officers
could hardly be compared:
They stand to the deck with the battle's wreck,
when the great shells roar and pound,
and never they fear when the foe is near
to lay their orders down--
Warriors bold with straps of gold
that dazzle like the sun
outshine the common sailor boys,
the lads who serve the guns:
oh, the men behind the guns.
But off with your hats and three times three
for every sailor's son,
for the men below who fight the foe,
the men behind the guns:
oh, the man behind the gun.
Say not a word till the shot is heard
that tells the fight is on,
and the angry sound of another round
that says there must be gone
Over the deep and the deadly sweep,
the fire and the bursting shell,
where the very air is a mad despair,
the throes of a living hell.
But down and deep in a mighty ship
unseen by the midday sun
you'll find the boys who make the noise,
the lads who serve the guns:
oh, the men behind the guns.
4
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful - a faery's child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said 'I love thee true'.
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dreamed - Ah! woe betide! The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried - 'La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!'
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill's side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
5
The Irish Ballad
About a maid I'll sing a song,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
About a maid I'll sing a song
Who didn't have her family long.
Not only did she do them wrong,
She did ev'ryone of them in, them in,
She did ev'ryone of them in.
One morning in a fit of pique,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One morning in a fit of pique,
She drowned her father in the creek.
The water tasted bad for a week,
And we had to make do with gin, with gin,
We had to make do with gin.
Her mother she could never stand,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
Her mother she could never stand,
And so a cyanide soup she planned.
The mother died with a spoon in her hand,
And her face in a hideous grin, a grin,
Her face in a hideous grin.
She set her sister's hair on fire,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
She set her sister's hair on fire,
And as the smoke and flame rose higher,
Danced around the funeral pyre,
Playin' a violin, -olin,
Playin' a violin.
She weighted her brother down with
stones,
Rickety-tickety-tin,
She weighted her brother down with
stones,
And sent him off to Davy Jones.
All they ever found were some bones,
And occasional pieces of skin, of skin,
Occasional pieces of skin.
One day when she had nothing to do,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
One day when she had nothing to do,
She cut her baby brother in two,
And served him up as an Irish stew,
And invited the neighbors in, -bors in,
Invited the neighbors in.
And when at last the police came by,
Sing rickety-tickety-tin,
And when at last the police came by,
Her little pranks she did not deny,
To do so she would have had to lie,
And lying, she knew, was a sin, a sin,
Lying, she knew, was a sin.
My tragic tale, I won't prolong,
Rickety-tickety-tin,
My tragic tale I won't prolong,
And if you do not enjoy my song,
You've yourselves to blame if it's too long,
You should never have let me begin, begin,
You should never have let me begin.
6
St James Infirmary Blues
7
It was down at old Joe's bar room
At the corner by the square
They were serving drinks as usual
And the usual crowd was there
On my left stood big Joe MacKennedy
His eyes were bloodshot red
And as he looked at the gang around him
These were the very words he said.
I went down to St. James Infirmary
I saw my baby there
Stretched out on a long, white table
So young, so cold, so fair
Seventeen coal-black horses
Hitched to a rubber-tied hack
Seven girls goin' to the graveyard
Only six of them are coming back
Let her go. Let her go, God bless her
Wherever she may be
She may search this wide world over
And never find another man like me
When I die just bury me
In my high-top Stetson hat
Place a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain
To let the Lord know I died standing pat
I want six crap-shooters for my pallbearers
A chorus girl to sing me a song
Place a jazz band on my hearse wagon
To raise hell as we roll along
Now that you've heard my story
I'll take another shot of booze
And if anyone here should ask you
I've got the gambler's blues
8
Pretty Boy Floyd
If you'll gather 'round me, children,
A story I will tell
'Bout Pretty Boy Floyd, an outlaw,
Oklahoma knew him well.
It was in the town of Shawnee,
A Saturday afternoon,
His wife beside him in his wagon
As into town they rode.
There a deputy sheriff approached him
In a manner rather rude,
Vulgar words of anger,
An' his wife she overheard.
Pretty Boy grabbed a log chain,
And the deputy grabbed his gun;
In the fight that followed
He laid that deputy down.
It was in Oklahoma City,
It was on a Christmas Day,
There was a whole car load of groceries
Come with a note to say:
Well, you say that I'm an outlaw,
You say that I'm a thief.
Here's a Christmas dinner
For the families on relief.
Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.
And as through your life you travel,
Yes, as through your life you roam,
You won't never see an outlaw
Drive a family from their home.
Then he took to the trees and timber
To live a life of shame;
Every crime in Oklahoma
Was added to his name.
But a many a starving farmer
The same old story told
How the outlaw paid their mortgage
And saved their little homes.
Others tell you 'bout a stranger
That come to beg a meal,
Underneath his napkin
Left a thousand dollar bill.
9
The Riddle Song
I gave my love a cherry which had no stone
I gave my love a chicken which had no bone
I gave my love a story which had no end
I gave my love a baby with no cryin'
How can there be a cherry which has no stone?
How can there be a chicken which has no bone?
How can there be a story which has no end?
How can there be a baby she's no cryin'?
A cherry when it's blooming, it has no stone
A chicken when it's pippin, it has no bone
The story that I love you, it has no end
A baby when she's sleeping, she's no cryin'
10
Maid on the Shore
There is a young maiden who lives all alone
She lives all alone on the shore-o
There's nothing she can find to comfort her mind
But to roam all alone on the shore shore shore
But to roam all alone on the shore
T'was of the young captain who sailed the salt sea
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
I will die I will die the young captain did cry
If I don't have that maid on the shore shore shore
If I don't have that maid on the shore
Well I have lots of silver I have lots of gold
I have lots of costly ware-o
I'll divide I'll divide with my jolly ship's crew
If they row me that maid on the shore shore shore
If they row me that maid on the shore
After much persuasion they got her aboard
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
They replaced her away in his cabin below
Here's adieu to all sorrow and care care care
Here's adieu to all sorrow and care
They replaced her away in his cabin below
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
She's so pretty and neat she's so sweet and complete
She sung captain and sailors to sleep
She sung captain and sailors to sleep
Then she robbed him of silver she robbed him of gold
She robbed him of costly ware-o
Then took his broadsword instead of an oar
And paddled away to the shore shore shore
And paddled away to the shore
Well me men must be crazy, me men must be mad
Me men must deep in despair-o
For to let you away from my cabin so gay
And to paddle your way to the shore shore shore
And paddle your way to the shore
Well your men was not crazy your men was not mad
Your men was not deep in despair-o
I deluded your sailors as well as yourself
I'm a maiden again on the shore shore shore
I'm a maiden again on the shore
11
The Lady of Shallott - Alfred Lord Tennyson
Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
To many-towered Camelot;
And up and down the people go,
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.1
Willows whiten, aspens quiver,
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Through the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers,
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
By the margin, willow veiled
Slide the heavy barges trailed
By slow horses; and unhailed
The shallop flitteth silken-sailed
Skimming down to Camelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand?
Or at the casement seen her stand?
25
Or is she known in all the land,
The Lady of Shalott?
Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley,
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to towered Camelot:
And by the moon the reaper weary,
Piling sheaves in uplands airy,
Listening, whispers "'Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott."
Part II
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Camelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she,
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Camelot: 50
There the river eddy whirls,
And there the curly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls,
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad,
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,
Or long-haired page in crimson clad,
Goes by to towered Camelot;
And sometimes through the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two:
She hath no loyal knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror's magic sights,
For often through the silent nights
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Camelot:
Or when the moon was overhead,
Came two young lovers lately wed;
"I am half sick of shadows," said
The Lady of Shalott.
Part III
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves,
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling through the leaves, 75
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneeled
To a lady in his shield,
That sparkled on the yellow field,
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glittered free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Camelot:
And from his blazoned baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung,
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burned like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Camelot.
As often through the purple night,
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; 100
On burnished hooves his war-horse trode;
From underneath his helmet flowed
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Camelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flashed into the crystal mirror,
12
"Tirra lira," by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,
She saw the helmet and the plume,
She looked down to Camelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide;
The mirror cracked from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Part IV
In the stormy east-wind straining,
The pale yellow woods were waning,
The broad stream in his banks complaining,
Heavily the low sky raining
Over towered Camelot;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat,
And round about the prow she wrote 125
The Lady of Shalott.
And down the river's dim expanse
Like some bold seer in a trance,
Seeing all his own mischance —
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay;
The broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
Lying, robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right —
The leaves upon her falling light —
Through the noises of the night
She floated down to Camelot:
Ballad of
Birmingham
By Dudley Randall
(On the bombing of a church in Birmingham,
Alabama, 1963)
“Mother dear, may I go downtown
Instead of out to play,
And march the streets of Birmingham
In a Freedom March today?”
“No, baby, no, you may not go,
For the dogs are fierce and wild,
And clubs and hoses, guns and jails
Aren’t good for a little child.”
“But, mother, I won’t be alone.
Other children will go with me,
And march the streets of Birmingham
To make our country free.”
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among,
They heard her singing her last song,
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy,
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
Turned to towered Camelot.
For ere she reached upon the tide 150
The first house by the water-side,
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony,
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by,
Dead-pale between the houses high,
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
Knight and burgher, lord and dame,
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
Who is this? and what is here?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer;
And they crossed themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot:
But Lancelot mused a little space;
He said, "She has a lovely face;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott."
“No, baby, no, you may not go,
For I fear those guns will fire.
But you may go to church instead
And sing in the children’s choir.”
She has combed and brushed her night-dark hair,
And bathed rose petal sweet,
And drawn white gloves on her small brown
hands,
And white shoes on her feet.
The mother smiled to know her child
Was in the sacred place,
But that smile was the last smile
To come upon her face.
For when she heard the explosion,
Her eyes grew wet and wild.
She raced through the streets of Birmingham
Calling for her child.
13
She clawed through bits of glass and brick,
Then lifted out a shoe.
“O, here’s the shoe my baby wore,
But, baby, where are you?”
14
The Ballad of
Othello Clemence
By George Elliott Clarke
There’s a black wind howlin’ by Whylah Falls;
There’s a mad rain hammerin’ the flowers;
There’s a shotgunned man moulderin’ in petals;
There’s a killer chucklin’ to himself;
There’s a mother keenin’ her posied son;
There’s a joker amblin’ over his bones.
Go down to the Sixhiboux River, hear it cry,
“Othello Clemence is dead and his murderer’s
free!”
O sang from Whylah Falls and lived by sweat,
Walked that dark road between desire and regret.
He pitched lumber, crushed rock, calloused his
hands:
He wasn’t a saint but he was a man.
Scratch Seville shot him and emptied his skull,
Tore a hole in his gut only Death could fill.
Now his martyr-mother witnesses in cries
Over his corpse cankered white by lilies.
There’s a black wind snakin’ by Whylah Falls;
There’s a river of blood in Jarvis County;
There’s a government that don’t know how to
weep;
There’s a mother who can’t get no sleep.
Go down to the Sixhiboux, hear it moan
Like a childless mother far, far, from home,
“There’s a change that’s gonna have to come,
I said, a change that’s gonna have to come.”
15
The Listeners
By Walter De La Mare
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
Knocking on the moonlit door;
And his horse in the silence champed the
grasses
Of the forest’s ferny floor:
And a bird flew up out of the turret,
Above the Traveller’s head:
And he smote upon the door again a second
time;
‘Is there anybody there?’ he said.
But no one descended to the Traveller;
No head from the leaf-fringed sill
Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,
Where he stood perplexed and still.
But only a host of phantom listeners
That dwelt in the lone house then
Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight
To that voice from the world of men:
Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the
dark stair,
That goes down to the empty hall,
Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken
By the lonely Traveller’s call.
And he felt in his heart their strangeness,
Their stillness answering his cry,
While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,
’Neath the starred and leafy sky;
For he suddenly smote on the door, even
Louder, and lifted his head:—
‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,
That I kept my word,’ he said.
Never the least stir made the listeners,
Though every word he spake
Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still
house
From the one man left awake:
Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,
And the sound of iron on stone,
And how the silence surged softly backward,
When the plunging hoofs were gone.
16
Lord Randall
1
“O where ha you been, Lord Randal,
my son?
And where ha you been, my handsome
young man?”
“I ha been at the greenwood; mother,
mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi hunting, and fain
wad lie down.”
2
“An wha met ye there, Lord Randal,
my son?
An wha met you there, my handsome
young man?”
“O I met wi my true-love; mother,
mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi huntin, an fain wad
lie down.”
3
“And what did she give you, Lord
Randal, my son?
And what did she give you, my
handsome young man?”
“Eels fried in a pan; mother, mak my
bed soon,
For I’m wearied with huntin, and fain
wad lie down.”
4
“And wha gat your leavins, Lord
Randal, my son?
And what gat your leavins, my
handsom young man?”
“My hawks and my hounds; mother,
mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain
wad lie down.”
5
“And what becam of them, Lord
Randall, my son?
And what became of them, my
handsome young man?”
“They stretched their legs out an died;
mother, mak my bed soon,
For I’m wearied wi huntin, and fain
wad lie down.”
6
“O I fear you are poisoned, Lord
Randal, my son!
I fear you are poisoned, my handsome
young man!”
“O yes, I am poisoned; mother, mak
my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain
wad lie down.”
7
“What d’ ye leave to your mother, Lord
Randal, my son?
What d’ye leave to your mother, my
handsome young man?”
“Four and twenty milk kye; mother,
mak my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain
wad lie down.”
8
“What d’ ye leave to your sister, Lord
Randal, my son?
What d’ ye leave to your sister, my
handsome young man?”
“My gold and my silver; mother, mak
my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, an I fain wad
lie down.”
9
“What d’ ye leave to your brother, Lord
Randal, my son?
What d’ ye leave to your brother, my
handsome young man?”
“My house and my lands; mother, mak
my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain
wad lie down.”
10
“What d’ ye leave to your true-love,
Lord Randal, my son?
What d’ ye leave to your true-love, my
handsome young man?”
“I leave her hell and fire; mother, mak
my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain
wad lie down.”
17
18
"Boots Of Spanish Leather"
Bob Dylan
Oh I'm sailin' away my own true love
I'm sailin' away in the morning
Is there something I can send you from across
the sea
From the place that I'll be landing ?
No, there's nothin' you can send me, my own true
love
There's nothin' I wish to be ownin'
Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled
From across that lonesome ocean.
Oh, but I just thought you might want something
fine
Made of silver or of golden
Either from the mountains of Madrid
Or from the coast of Barcelona ?
Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night
And the diamonds from the deepest ocean
I'd forsake them all for your sweet kiss
For that's all I'm wishin' to be ownin'.
That I might be gone a long time
And it's only that I'm askin'
Is there something I can send you to remember
me by
To make your time more easy passin' ?
Oh, how can, how can you ask me again
It only brings me sorrow
The same thing I want from you today
I would want again tomorrow.
I got a letter on a lonesome day
It was from her ship a-sailin'
Saying I don't know when I'll be comin' back
again
It depends on how I'm a-feelin'.
Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way
I'm sure your mind is roarmin'
I'm sure your thoughts are not with me
But with the country to where you're goin'.
So take heed, take heed of the western wind
Take heed of the stormy weather
And yes, there's something you can send back to
me
Spanish boots of Spanish leather.
19
"Come all ye fair and tender maidens"
Come all ye fair and tender maidens
Take warning how you court young men
They're like a star of a summer's morning
First they appear and then they're gone.
They'll tell to you some loving story
They'll swear to you their love is true
Straightway they'll go and court another
And that's the love that they had for you.
If I'd a known before I courted
That love it was such a killin' thing
I'd lock my heart in a box of golden
And fastened it up with a silver chain.
O do you remember our days of courtin'
When your head lay upon my breast
You could make me believe with the falling of
your eyes
That the sun rose in the west.
I wish I was a little sparrow
And I had wings and I could fly
I'd fly away to my own true lover
And when he speaks I won't deny.
But I am not no little sparrow
I have no wings neither can I fly
I'll sit right down in my grief and sorrow
And let my troubles pass me by.
Come all ye fair and tender maidens
Take warning how you court young men
They're like a star of a summer's morning
First they appear and then they're gone.
20
if my love will be true to me
"Two Sisters"
There was an old woman, lived by the seashore
Bow and balance me
There was an old woman, lived by the seashore
A number of daughters: one, two, three, four
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
There was a young man come there to see them
Bow and balance me
There was a young man come there to see them
and the oldest one got stuck on him
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
He bought the youngest a beaver hat
Bow and balance me
He bought the youngest a beaver hat
and the oldest one got mad at that
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
Oh, sister oh, sister let's walk the seashore
Bow and balance me
Oh, sister oh, sister let's walk the seashore
and see the ships as they're sailing on
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
While these two sisters were walking the shore
Bow and balance me
While these two sisters were walking the shore
the oldest pushed the youngest o'er
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
Oh, sister oh, sister please lend me your hand
Bow and balance me
Oh, sister oh, sister please lend me your hand
and you will have Willy and all of his land
And then I'll be true to my love
I'll never, I'll never will lend you my hand
Bow and balance me
I'll never, I'll never will lend you my hand
but I'll have Willy and all of his land
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
Some time she swam and some time she swam
Bow and balance me
Some time she sank and some time she swam
untill she came to the old mill dam
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
The miller, he got his fishinghook
Bow and balance me
The miller, he got his fishinghook
and fished that maiden out of the brook
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
Oh, miller oh, miller here's five gold rings
Bow and balance me
Oh, miller oh, miller here's five gold rings
to push the maiden in again
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
The miller received those five gold rings
Bow and balance me
The miller received those five gold rings
and pushed that maiden in again
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
The miller was hung in the old mill gate
Bow and balance me
The miller was hung in the old mill gate
for drowning little sister Kate
And I'll be true to my love
if my love will be true to me
21
Hey Joe
Jimi Hendrix
Hey Joe, where you goin' with that gun in your hand
Hey Joe, I said where you goin' with that gun in your hand
I'm goin' down to shoot my ol' lady
I caught her messin' 'round with another man
Yeah, I'm goin' down to shoot my ol' lady now
You know I caught her messin' 'round with another man
Hey Joe, hey, Joe, I heard you shot your woman down
Hey Joe, hey, Joe, I heard you shot your woman down
He said, "Yeah, I did it, yes I did, I shot her
You know I caught her messin' 'round with another man"
You know I caught my her messin' 'round with another man
Hey Joe, hey Joe, Where you gonna run to
Hey Joe, hey Joe, where you gonna run to
I'm goin' way down south, way down south, Way down to Mexico way, yeah
Way down where I can be free
Ain't no one gonna mess with me there,
He ain't gonna put a rope, a rope around me
22
Frankie and Johnny
Frankie and Johnny was sweethearts
At least that's the way the story goes
Frankie bought everything for Johnny
From his sports car to his Ivy League clothes
Aw, he was a man alright
Oh, but he was doing her wrong
Just to show you what can happen
A friend came running to Frankie
She said you know I wouldn't tell you no lie
I saw your man ridin' in his Jaguar
With a chick named Nellie Blye
Oh, if he was your man honey
Let me tell you he was doing you wrong
Let me tell the story
Frankie ran around the corner
And peeked in a swinging place
And there she saw Johnny with a woman
He had his arms around her waist
Aw...he was a man alright
But Frankie could see that he was
Doing her wrong
And oh let me tell you
Frankie reached down in her pocketbook
And up with a long forty-four
She shot once, twice, three times
And Johnny fell on the hard wood floor
Aw...he was a man alright
But she shot him because he was doing her wrong
23
Nebraska
Bruce Springsteen
I saw her standin' on her front lawn just twirlin' her baton
Me and her went for a ride sir and ten innocent people died
From the town of Lincoln Nebraska with a sawed-off .410 on my lap
Through to the badlands of Wyoming I killed everything in my path
I can't say that I'm sorry for the things that we done
At least for a little while sir me and her we had us some fun
The jury brought in a guilty verdict and the judge he sentenced me to death
Midnight in a prison storeroom with leather straps across my chest
Sheriff when the man pulls that switch sir and snaps my poor neck back
You make sure my pretty baby is sittin' right there on my lap
They declared me unfit to live said into that great void my soul'd be hurled
They wanted to know why I did what I did
Well, sir I guess there's just a meanness in this world
24
"Ballad Of Hollis Brown"
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
With his wife and five children
And his cabin brokin' down.
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
Your children are so hungry
That they don't know how to smile.
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe.
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
If there's anyone that knows
Is there anyone that cares ?
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pocket tell you
That you ain't a-got no friend.
Your babies are crying louder now
It's pounding on your brain
Your babies are crying louder now
It's pounding on your brain
Your wife's screams are stabbin' you
Like the dirty drivin' rain.
Your grass is turning black
There's no water in your well
Your grass is turning black
There's no water in your well
Your spent your last lone dollar
On seven shotgun shels.
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Your eyes fix on the shortgun
That's hangin' on the wall.
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your eyes fix on the shortgun
That you're holdin' in your hand.
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
Seven shots ring out
Like the ocean's pounding roar.
There's seven people dead
On a south Dakota farm
There's seven people dead
On a south Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There's seven new people born.
25
A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall - Bob Dylan
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’
I saw a white ladder all covered with water
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley
And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony
I met a white man who walked a black dog
I met a young woman whose body was burning
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow
I met one man who was wounded in love
I met another man who was wounded with hatred
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?
I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison
Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten
26
Where black is the color, where none is the number
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall
27
Casey at the Bat - Ernest Lawrence Thayer
The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day:
The score stood four to two, with but one inning more to play,
And then when Cooney died at first, and Barrows did the same,
A pall-like silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go in deep despair. The rest
Clung to the hope which springs eternal in the human breast;
They thought, "If only Casey could but get a whack at that—
We'd put up even money now, with Casey at the bat."
But Flynn preceded Casey, as did also Jimmy Blake,
And the former was a hoodoo, while the latter was a cake;
So upon that stricken multitude grim melancholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Casey getting to the bat.
But Flynn let drive a single, to the wonderment of all,
And Blake, the much despisèd, tore the cover off the ball;
And when the dust had lifted, and men saw what had occurred,
There was Jimmy safe at second and Flynn a-hugging third.
Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell;
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell;
It pounded on the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Casey, mighty Casey, was advancing to the bat.
There was ease in Casey's manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Casey's bearing and a smile lit Casey's face.
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the crowd could doubt 'twas Casey at the bat.
Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tongues applauded when he wiped them on his
shirt;
Then while the writhing pitcher ground the ball into his hip,
Defiance flashed in Casey's eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.
And now the leather-covered sphere came hurtling through the
air,
And Casey stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there.
Close by the sturdy batsman the ball unheeded sped—
"That ain't my style," said Casey. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
From the benches, black with people, there went up a muffled
28
roar,
Like the beating of the storm-waves on a stern and distant shore;
"Kill him! Kill the umpire!" shouted someone on the stand;
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Casey raised his hand.
With a smile of Christian charity great Casey's visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the pitcher, and once more the dun sphere flew;
But Casey still ignored it and the umpire said, "Strike two!"
"Fraud!" cried the maddened thousands, and echo answered
"Fraud!"
But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles
strain,
And they knew that Casey wouldn't let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate,
He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate;
And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.
Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children
shout,
But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.
29
Stan Rogers - Northwest Passage
chorus:
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 wild and savage
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea.
Westward from the Davis Strait 'tis there 'twas said to lie
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died;
Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered, broken bones
And a long-forgotten lonely cairn of stones.
Three centuries thereafter, I take passage overland
In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his "sea of flowers" began
Watching cities rise before me, then behind me sink again
This tardiest explorer, driving hard across the plain.
And through the night, behind the wheel, the mileage clicking west
I think upon Mackenzie, David Thompson and the rest
Who cracked the mountain ramparts and did show a path for me
To race the roaring Fraser to the sea.
How then am I so different from the first men through this way?
Like them, I left a settled life, I threw it all away.
To seek a Northwest Passage at the call of many men
To find there but the road back home again.
30
The Mary Ellen Carter - Stan Rogers
She went down last October in a pouring driving rain.
The skipper, he'd been drinking and the Mate, he felt no pain.
Too close to Three Mile Rock, and she was dealt her mortal blow,
And the Mary Ellen Carter settled low.
There were just us five aboard her when she finally was awash.
We'd worked like hell to save her, all heedless of the cost.
And the groan she gave as she went down, it caused us to proclaim
That the Mary Ellen Carter would rise again.
Well, the owners wrote her off; not a nickel would they spend.
She gave twenty years of service, boys, then met her sorry end.
But insurance paid the loss to us, they let her rest below.
Then they laughed at us and said we had to go.
But we talked of her all winter, some days around the clock,
For she's worth a quarter million, afloat and at the dock.
And with every jar that hit the bar, we swore we would remain
And make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.
Rise again, rise again, that her name not be lost
To the knowledge of men.
Those who loved her best and were with her till the end
Will make the Mary Ellen Carter rise again.
All spring, now, we've been with her on a barge lent by a friend.
Three dives a day in hard hat suit and twice I've had the bends.
Thank God it's only sixty feet and the currents here are slow
Or I'd never have the strength to go below.
But we've patched her rents, stopped her vents, dogged hatch and
porthole down.
Put cables to her, 'fore and aft and girded her around.
Tomorrow, noon, we hit the air and then take up the strain.
And make the Mary Ellen Carter Rise Again.
For we couldn't leave her there, you see, to crumble into scale.
She'd saved our lives so many times, living through the gale
And the laughing, drunken rats who left her to a sorry grave
They won't be laughing in another day. . .
And you, to whom adversity has dealt the final blow
With smiling bastards lying to you everywhere you go
Turn to, and put out all your strength of arm and heart and brain
And like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
Rise again, rise again - though your heart it be broken
And life about to end
No matter what you've lost, be it a home, a love, a friend.
Like the Mary Ellen Carter, rise again.
The Ballad of the Children of the Czar
Delmore Schwartz, 1913 - 1966
1
31
The children of the Czar
Played with a bouncing ball
In the May morning, in the Czar’s garden,
Tossing it back and forth.
It fell among the flowerbeds
Or fled to the north gate.
A daylight moon hung up
In the Western sky, bald white.
Like Papa’s face, said Sister,
Hurling the white ball forth.
2
While I ate a baked potato
Six thousand miles apart,
In Brooklyn, in 1916,
Aged two, irrational.
When Franklin D. Roosevelt
Was an Arrow Collar ad.
O Nicholas! Alas! Alas!
My grandfather coughed in your army,
Hid in a wine-stinking barrel,
For three days in Bucharest
Then left for America
To become a king himself.
3
I am my father’s father,
You are your children’s guilt.
In history’s pity and terror
The child is Aeneas again;
32
Troy is in the nursery,
The rocking horse is on fire.
Child labor! The child must carry
His fathers on his back.
But seeing that so much is past
And that history has no ruth
For the individual,
Who drinks tea, who catches cold,
Let anger be general:
I hate an abstract thing.
4
Brother and sister bounced
The bounding, unbroken ball,
The shattering sun fell down
Like swords upon their play,
Moving eastward among the stars
Toward February and October.
But the Maywind brushed their cheeks
Like a mother watching sleep,
And if for a moment they fight
Over the bouncing ball
And sister pinches brother
And brother kicks her shins,
Well! The heart of man is known:
It is a cactus bloom.
5
The ground on which the ball bounces
Is another bouncing ball.
The wheeling, whirling world
33
Makes no will glad.
Spinning in its spotlight darkness,
It is too big for their hands.
A pitiless, purposeless Thing,
Arbitrary and unspent,
Made for no play, for no children,
But chasing only itself.
The innocent are overtaken,
They are not innocent.
They are their father’s fathers,
The past is inevitable.
6
Now, in another October
Of this tragic star,
I see my second year,
I eat my baked potato.
It is my buttered world,
But, poked by my unlearned hand,
It falls from the highchair down
And I begin to howl.
And I see the ball roll under
The iron gate which is locked.
Sister is screaming, brother is howling,
The ball has evaded their will.
Even a bouncing ball
Is uncontrollable,
And is under the garden wall.
I am overtaken by terror
Thinking of my father’s fathers,
And of my own will.
34
The Unquiet Grave
Anonymous
I
‘The wind doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true-love;
In cold grave she was lain.
II
‘I’ll do as much for my true-love
As any young man may;
I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.'
III
The twelvemonth and a day being up,
The dead began to speak:
‘Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?'—
IV
'‘Tis I, my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold
lips,
And that is all I seek.'—
V
‘You crave one kiss of my clay-cold
lips;
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold
lips,
Your time will not be long.
VI
'‘Tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that ere was seen
Is wither’d to a stalk.
VII
‘The stalk is wither’d dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.'
35
"Crazy Man Michael"
Richard Thompson
Within the fire
And out upon the sea
Crazy man Michael was walking
He met with a raven
With eyes black as coal
And shortly they were talking
He took out his dagger
Of fire and of steel
And he struck down the raven
Through the heart-o
The bird fluttered long
And the sky it did spin
And this cold earth did
Did wonder and start-o
"your future, your future
I will tell to you
Your future
You often have asked me
Your true love will die
By your own right hand
And crazy man Michael
Will cursed be"
Oh where is the raven
That I struck down dead
And here did lye
On the ground-o?
I see my true love
With a wound so red
Where her lover's heart
It did pound-o
Michael he ranted
And Michael he raved
And he beat at the four winds
With his fists-o
He laughed and he cried
He shouted and he swore
For his mad mind
Had changed him with a kiss-o
Crazy man Michael
He wanders I'm told
And he talks through
The night and the day-o
But his eyes they are sane
And his speech is plain
But he longs to be far away-o
"you speak with an evil
You speak with a hate
You speak for the devil
That haunts me
For is she not the fairest
In all the broad land?
Your sorcerer's words
Are to taunt me"
Michael he whistles
The simplest of tunes
And begs the four winds for their
Their pardon
But his true love has flown
Into every flower grown
And he must be keeper
Of the garden