Gordon Bok and Bob Zentz - Together Again For the First Time

(c)(p) 2017 Timberhead Music, LLC
PO Box 840
Camden ME 04843
www.youbangte.cn
www.gordonbok.com
www.bobzentz.com
207-236-2707

Originally recorded and produced for WFMT radio, Chicago, by Rich Warren
Produced by Gordon Bok and Bob Zentz
Supervising Editor: Hamilton Hall
Editor: Duncan Hall
Remastering: Grey Larsen, Grey Larsen Mastering, Bloomington IN
Graphic Design: Ken Gross
Bob Zentz Photo: Jeanne McDougall Zentz
Gordon Bok Photo: Bill Gamble

Gordon Bok and Bob Zentz - Together Again For the First Time

         Revisiting these songs and their stories, I’m reminded of the line from T.S. Eliot: “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”
         “Together Again, for the First Time" was recorded in Chicago on March 31,1979, as part of a tour that took Gordon and I from Buffalo to Minneapolis on an odyssey of exploration, friendship, teaching, and learning. Miles of driving, discussing songs, reading to each other … we tried to demystify the magical 'business' called 'music' and even sketched out a blueprint of why we do what we do and how we do it – miles divided by the number of smiles, that sort of thing. Maybe one of us still has it somewhere. But in reality, you can’t distill what we do down to a formula … it’s more like the alchemy of old, lost to time but alive in our imagining.
         That was the magic that happened when two old friends in our younger days came together … friends who are now privileged to revisit it again in our later years. As the saying goes, you had to be there … but if you weren’t, you can be now.
                        ~ Bob Zentz

DISC 1:

1. Picker and a Grinner
?1974 Bob Zentz, BMI
   Meet my friend and mentor, Ramblin' Conrad, who was all of the above. And oh! What a great singin' crowd. (BZ)

He was a picker, a grinner, a singer and a sinner
But he sure could blow the mouth-harp something fine
He was a tinker, a joker, a near-beer drinker and a Pall Mall smoker
But I'm proud to say he was a mighty good friend of mine.

    And he could sing all night
    Lord he must have known a million songs
    They made you feel alright
    Til you knew you had to sing along

He was a drunk tank poet, a back porch preacher, and by now I know it that he was my teacher
'Bout life and things and people I'd never have known
He was a Jimmy Rogers fan, he was a honky-tonk, gentle man
And since the night I met him I figure that I must have grown

He was no stranger at the police station, why he said he was arrested once for fortification
He said that could mean anything, just being with a woman, that's all
He was a backstage shaker, a back table snoozer, a G-string breaker and a flat pick loser
But his name in lights was the best thing he could recall


2. Intro: Judge Proctor's Windmill

3. Judge Proctor's Windmill
?1976 Tom Pacheco, Chappell & Co., Harry Fox Agency
   There has been a movie about this story starring Jack Elam as the town drunk; these days, I do it with a different twist at the end - let's just say it's Charlie on the MTA meeting ET....! (BZ)

It was on a quiet star-filled night
Not a single cloud in sight
And ol' Judge Proctor was fast asleep in dreams
Then a screaming, howling cry
A thing fell from the sky
With a noise that made the cows and horses scream
Well the judge looked out his window
His windmill was on fire
He lit a lantern, then he rushed outside
He saw scattered all around
Red hot metal on the ground
And the body of a thing that had just died.

    A flying saucer crashed into Judge Proctor's windmill
    In eighteen ninety-seven so they say
    It was in Aurora, Texas, and in the flaming wreckage
    They found the tiney spaceman that they buried the next day

Well the neighbors came and gathered 'round
To see the body on the ground
And the preacher blessed this unwashed heathen friend
And the oldest man in town
Said it was Satan's son they found
The town drunk never touched a drink again
And the ole maid Martha Chase
Swore she rerocignized his face
It was a 'peeping Tom' she'd see for fifty years
And as they lowered him six feet down
No one spoke or made a sound
The undertakers hand's were wet with fear

Well the widow Hanna Post
Said it was the Holy Ghost
And for the remainder of her life its praise she'd sing
Soon the metal disappeared
Most of it for souvenirs
And the rest just got plowed under in the spring
Now the years have passed and gone
With many generations born
It was just an ol' wives tale some people say
But somewhere in that Texas ground
There's a body lying down
That was born somewhere beyond the Milky Way.


4. Intro: All Around My Hat/Red-Haired Mary/Irish Washerwoman

5. All Around My Hat/Red-Haired Mary/Irish Washerwoman
traditional/traditional/traditional
   Today in the digital age, I often comment that harmonica tunes can be directly downloaded to the concertina - but it's still less expensive to start out on the mouth harp.(BZ)


6. Intro: I Want My Son to be a Country Boy

7. I Want My Son to be a Country Boy
?1974 Bob Zentz, BMI
   Written in a park near the L.A. hospital where son Bryan was born, two years before the Silmar Earthquake tumbled us back to Virginia. (BZ)

Well, I want my son to be a country boy
With fields and streams and meadows to enjoy
Where the forests's tall and green and the air is fresh and clean
And a sunny day can be his favorite toy
Yeah, I want my son to be a country boy

Now the city just ain't any place to grow
Well, I've lived here all my life, so I should know
In the country, life begins, but the city's where it ends
So I'd like to pack my family up and go

Now a concrete playground ain't no place to play
And the air looks like it's seen a better day
And this city life just seems to give way to country dreams
And I know we'd do quite well to get away


8. Intro: Wrinkle in Time

9. Wrinkle in Time
?1979 Bob Zentz, BMI
   They say it's a bad thing to dwell on the past, but there's so much more of it now than there ever was before...(BZ)

I wish I had a wrinkle in time, a place where I could go
An autumn mountain I could climb, leave the rest of the world below
I wish I had a place to sing these secret songs of mine
Where all the joys that singing brings could be with me all the time

    Well, I’d close my eyes one instant, and be gone
    Open ‘em wide and I’d be back again
    Rested and strong from my world inside
    And I’d never tell a soul where I had been

I wish I had a laughing place when this old world gets me down
Where sorrow never knew my face and my dreams were all around
I wish I had a place to lose this everyday routine
I’d hide my sorrows and the blues from the good times I have seen

I wish had a wrinkle in time and a friend to take me home
The loneliness I never mind, I’ve learned to love alone

    So when I close my eyes forever, and I’m gone
    Where time’s a place, and places never end
    I’ll know my wrinkle in time is just a state of mind
    But it’s heaven for the few that understand
    It’s heaven for the few that understand


10. Intro: Let Me Fish Off Cape St. Mary's

11. Let Me Fish Off Capt St. Mary's
? Otto P. Kelland
    I learned this version from Peggy Day. (GB)

Take me back to my Western boat
Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's
Where the hagdowns sail and the foghorns wail,
With my friends, the Browns and the Clearys,
In the swells off old St. Mary's.

Let me feel my dory lift
To the broad Atlantic cumbers
Where the tide-rips swirl and the wild ducks furl
And the ocean calls the numbers...
In the swells off old St. Mary's.

Let me sail up golden bays
With my oilskins all a-streaming
From the thunder squall where I hauled my trawl,
And the old "Cape Ann" a-gleaming
In the swells off old St. Mary's.

Take me back to my Western boat
Let me fish off Cape St. Mary's
Where the hagdowns sail and the foghorns wail,
With my friends, the Browns and the Clearys,
In the swells off old St. Mary's.


12. Intro: River of Time

13. River of Time
?1992 Bob Zentz, BMI
    And yet another time song.... (BZ)

There once lived a maid by the river of time
In the land of no regret
And I was a boatman sailing down
To the city of never forget

    And the wind came up and the storm came up
    And I brought my boat to the shore
    The shore of the river, the river of time
    And I came to this maiden’s door

This maiden was lovely, this maiden was fair
This maiden was wise and free
I knew that she loved me by the way she cared
By the songs that her heart sang to me

    And I took her love and I gave her love
    And I guess that I always will
    Remember the maid by the river of time
    When the river of time stood still

But there came a day when she turned to say
I’d best be movin’ on
For she bore the curse of the river of time
If I lingered her youth would be gone

    Her truth and her wisdom, her beauty too
    Would vanish away like a flame
    But if I sailed on down the river of time
    For me, they would always remain

Now I’ve grown old sailin’ that river of time
In the land of no regret
And I have loved many, and I have loved one
In the city of never forget

    But I remember the maid by the river of time
    And I wonder if she thinks of me
    Like islands that wait in the river of time
    Unchanged in our own memory

    Like islands that wait in the river of time
    Unchanged in our own memory


14. Intro: Mister Brown

15. Mister Brown
traditional*
   Printed in a book Margaret MacArthur gave me called Songs of the Rivers of America. This song is also known as "Old Jim River".(GB)
   * We found one internet source that attributes a similar version of this song to Daniel Decatur Emmett (1815–1904) Below is the version sung on this recording.

    It'll never do to give it up so
    It'll never do to give it up so
    It'll never do to give it up so, Mister Brown,
    It'll never do to give it up so

I'm old Mister Brown just up from the South
I left Lynchburg in the time of the drought
And the hard times come with a terrible pace
I never dared to show my face

Old Jim River I floated down
The back of the boat ran up on the ground
And a pine log come with a terrible din
Stove both ends of the old boat in

But old Jim River he rolls away
He works all night and he works all day
He don't care for good times or bad
He takes what he gets and it makes him glad

But old Jim River he rolls away
He works all night and he works all day
He never cares for good times or bad
He takes what he gets and it makes him glad


16. Intro: Ivor the Driver

17. Ivor the Driver
?1967 Dave Goulder
   My old touring mate Dave made this song from local ingredients when he was working the steam trains in the UK. (GB)

One night at the church, I was stealing the coal
Over the ground and under the ground
And what did I see? well, I'll tell you it whole
Over and under the ground.

A sleepy old miner was walking alone
Over the ground, and under the ground
And he nipped through the graveyard to find his way home
Over and under the ground.

He was thinking of only the time he could save
Over the ground and under the ground
When he tumbled into an unoccupied grave
Over and under the ground

He picked himself up and he scrambled about
Over the ground and under the ground
But try as he might he just couldn't get out
Over and under the ground.

Not being the kind who would whimper and weep
Over the ground and under the ground
He laid down in a corner and went off to sleep
Over and under the ground.

The miner was sleeping not caring at all
Over the ground and under the ground
When Ivor the driver nipped over the wall
Over and under the ground.

The night it was dark and Ivor was full
Over the ground and under the ground
When he tripped and he fell in that very same hole
Over and under the ground

He ranted and raved and he cursed and he swore
Over the ground and under the ground
And he wakened the miner asleep on the floor
Over and under the ground.

Now, Ivor was sure there was no one about
Over the ground and under the ground
When a voice from the dark says "You'll never get out"
Over and under the ground.

The grave it was dark and exceedingly deep
Over the ground and under the ground
But Ivor the driver was out in one leap
Over and under the ground.

The sleepy old miner he scratched and he spat
Over the ground and under the ground
and he says to himself, "Now, how'ed he do that"?
Over and under the ground.

Well the miner remembers his night with the dead
Over the ground and under the ground
But, Ivor the driver is strapped in his bed
Over and under the ground.


18. Intro: I Held a Lady

19. I Held a Lady
words ?1995 Colm Gallagher, Colm Music, ASCAP
   I learned this from Tommy Makem. The tune is traditional - "The Munster Cloak."(GB)

I held a lady, oh laddie-daddie,
I held a lovely brown-haired girl,
I held a lady, oh laddie-daddie,
I held a lovely brown-haired girl.
I know that she was warm,
For I held her and touched her.
I held her so long. It was lovely
Holding her against my body.

I hear her laughing, I see her smiling,
I feel her arms around me
From morning, when sun is shining, til evening,
Even when the night is falling down,
All down the calling way,
Calling you, young lady.
For you, brown-haired – oh laddie-daddie,
Diddley-eye dadden-adda – lady.

Oh I remember, how I remember
Old Days when I was young, days
When I held a lady, oh laddie-daddie,
I held a lovely brown-haired girl;
Old days are dean-and-gone days,
Alive in the morning,
Alive in the sun – laddie-daddie,
Diddley-eye adden-daddle – lady.

Red lips that love at my lips, a heart and
Thigh, hips and legs and eyes, slips
Away in the dawning day, laddie-awning,
I looks along the old road,
That old Sally Noggin Bog road
Where I held a lady,
Where I held a lovely – adden-dadden,
Diddley-eye dadden-addle – lady.


20. Intro: Hills of Dover

21. Hills of Dover
music ? Margaret MacArthur; lyrics ? John Nutting, Other Music, Harry Fox Agency
   Margaret made the tune for John Nutting's sad commentary on life past and present in Vermont. She said John was watching a fellow try to mow a rock-strewn hillside with a tractor when he got the idea for the poem. (GB)

Up here the land turns hard, life gets boney
The way from Litchburg to Barton is humped up and stony
There's no straight line laid out for a man
His way gets back by mountains again and again

    You got to back way up, you got to start all over
    To make ends meet on the Hills of Dover
    You got to back way up, you got to start all over
    To make ends meet on the Hills of Dover

Well we stood it good when the spring meant sugaer and the fall meant wood
We made our way in the winter with logging and the summer with hay
Many good men went up that road til got too steep for the heavy load
They turned out from Rupert and Bondville and Belividere to clear another passage for the coming year.

Well we kept on hewin' the land without a team in the trace, without an axe in the hand
We bulldozed skin runs all over these hills and draglined ponds where there aren't no mills
Sugarbush, Killington, Magic Mountain, Chalet Village, and the Friendship Fountain
These are the new crops to nourish our bones
Til they get laid out straight among these stones.


22. Modest and Bright Eileen O'Farrell
traditional
    I learned this from Jo-Ellen and Ed Bosson, and Helen Stokoe. (GB)


23. Intro: Old Zeb

24. Old Zeb
?1976 Larry Kaplan, Winter Harbor Music, BMI ?1991 Larry Kaplan, Hannah Lane Music, BMI
    Zebulon Tilton was a famous skipper of the coasting schooner Alice S. Wentworth, hauling everything from brick to oysters around New York and New England. Larry Kaplan compiled these stories about Zeb into this song. I was mate in the Wentworth the last year she sailed. (GB)

I'm not tired of the wind, I'm not weary of the sea,
But they've probably had a bellyful of a damned old coot like me,
So I'm going ashore, and she's bound for better days,
But I'll see her topsail flying when I come down off the ways.

    Rosie, get my Sunday shoes, Gertie get my walking cane;
    We'll take another walk to see old Alice sail again.

If I had a nickel for every man I used to know
Who could load three cord of wood aboard in half an hour or so,
Who could get on sail by hauling, instead of donkeying around,
I'd be the poorest coasterman this side of Edgartown.

Any fool can work an engine; takes brains to work a sail,
And I never see no steamer get much good out of a gale.
You can go and pay your taxes on the rationed gas you get,
But at least for me the wind is free, and they haven't run out yet.

If I ever get back to her, I'll treat her just the same;
I'll jibe her when I want to, and sail in the freezing rain.
I'll park old Alice on the beach and go dancing in the town,
'Cause a man that's born for hanging probably never will get drowned.

repeat first verse


25. Intro: In My Time

26. In My Time
?1979 Bob Zentz, BMI
   Seems I had a lot more time to write songs about time once upon a time ... (BZ)

Well, in my time, I might have been a farmer
You know I might have been a farmer in my time
But the only thing I’d have grown was hungry and alone
Though I might have been a farmer in my time

    In my time, in my time
    Well, I might have been a farmer (student, lover, doctor) in my time
    Well, I might have been a lot of things, but at least I took the time to sing
    A song about a farmer (student, lover, doctor) in my time

Well, in my time, I might have been a student
You know I might have been a student in my time
But the lesson that I learned was a life of songs I earned
Though I might have been a student in my time

Well, in my time, I might have been a lover
You know I might have been a lover in my time
But the only loves I’d find were the ones that touched my mind
Though I might have been a lover in my time

Well, in my time, I might have been a doctor
Oh, mamma, I might have been a doctor in my time
But the only medicine was a song sung to a friend
Though I might have been a doctor in my time

Well, in my time, I might have been a singer
You know I must have been a singer in my time
But I’ve done the best I can, and I sing, therefore I am
I’m proud to be a singer in my time

    In my time, in my time
    Well, I’m proud to be a singer in my time
    Well, I might have been a lot of things, but at least I took the time to sing
    Well, I might have been a lot of things, but at least I took the time to sing


27. Intro: Garden Song

28. Garden Song
?1979 David Mallett, Reservoir Media Music, BMG Ruby Songs, Harry Fox Agency
   Noel Stookey kindly produced Dave’s and my first albums; I learned this song from Dave himself. (GB)

Inch by inch, row by row
Gonna make this garden grow
All it takes is a rake and a hoe
And a piece of fertile ground

Inch by inch, row by row
Someone bless these seeds I sow
Someone warm them from below
Till the rain comes tumbling down

Pulling weeds and picking stones
Man is made of dreams and bones
Feel the need to grow my own
Cause the time is close at hand

Painful rain, sun and rain
Find my way in nature's chain
Tune my body and my brain
To the music from the land

Plant your rows straight and long
Temper them with prayer and song
Mother Earth will make you strong
If you give her love and care

Old crow watching hungrily
From his perch in yonder tree
In my garden I'm as free
As that feathered thief up there


29. Intro: My Favorite Song

30. My Favorite Song
?1979 Bob Zentz, BMI
   Utah Phillips once sang this song in a Work Songs workshop ... never thought of it as a work song, but some of those gigs were real work! (BZ)

You ask me to sing my favorite song, well I guess you don’t understand
I’ve been up here pickin’ all night long, while you play stump the band
But I call ‘em as I see ‘em, and I see ‘em all the time
And any song I sing for you is a favorite song of mine

    I wouldn’t sing ‘em if I didn’t like ‘em, I wouldn’t like ‘em if I didn’t care
    I wouldn’t care if you didn’t listen, but there’s a lot of good songs out there
    Some songs are just like the people I know, some people like the songs I sing
    And I never sang a song that I didn’t love, or no song that didn’t love me

Now I’d like to introduce the jukebox, you’ve all used him before
Plays exactly what you pay him to, well, I don’t do that no more
‘Cause I don’t know none of his tunes, and he sure doesn’t play none of mine
Friends, I gotta say, I never plan it that way, but we both seem to get along fine

Now some of these songs take you travelin’, and some of them take you home
Some might make you laugh a bit, and some are good when you’re all alone
And some’ll introduce you to people that you wouldn’t ordinarily know
These songs of mine, I sing ‘em all the time, and I take ‘em everywhere that I go

So here’s a toast to you who listen, here’s a word for them that don’t
If you listen you might hear something new, but if you never listen, you won’t
So open your ears and open your mind and I’ll sing you my favorite song
‘Cause it’s right out there with the folks who care that your favorite songs belong


31. Intro: Meeting of the Waters/ No Awa to Bide Awa

32. Meeting of the Waters/ No Awa to Bide Awa
traditional/traditional
   For right-handed players, the bagpipe and the autoharp are the two instruments you tuck under your left arm, and hang on for dear life! So it's natural that these tunes made their way from the bagpipe to the autoharp. (BZ)


33. Intro: The Scotsman

34. The Scotsman
? 1994 Mike Cross, Vic-Ray Publishing, ASCAP
   On a tour of Scotland with Cilla Fisher and Artie Tresize, I came to realize what a unique sense of humor the Scots have, and, in self-defense, began singing this song that I'd learned by osmosis from Ken Hicks. (BZ)

Well, a Scotsman clad in kilt left the bar one evening fair
And one could tell by how he walked that he'd drunk more than his share
He fumbled 'round until he could no longer keep his feet
And he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street
Ring-ding-diddle-liddle-I-de-o, ring-di-diddley-I-o
Oh, he stumbled off into the grass to sleep beside the street

About that time two young and lovely girls just happened by
One says to the other with a twinkle in her eye
See yon sleeping Scotsman so strong and handsome built
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt
Ring-ding-diddle-liddle-I-de-o, ring-di-diddley-I-o
I wonder if it's true what they don't wear beneath the kilt

They crept up on that sleeping Scotsman quiet as could be
Lifted up his kilt about an inch so they could see
And there behold for them to view beneath his Scottish skirt
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth
Ring-ding-diddle-liddle-I-de-o, ring-di-diddley-I-o
Was nothing more than God had graced him with upon his birth

They marveled for a moment then one said we must be gone
Let's leave a present for our friend before we move along
As a gift they left a blue silk ribbon tied into a bow
Around the bonnie star the Scots kilt did lift and show
Ring-ding-diddle-liddle-I-de-o, ring-di-diddley-I-o
Around the bonnie star the Scots kilt did lift and show

Now the Scotsman woke to nature's call and stumbled towards the trees
Behind the bush he lifts his kilt and gawks at what he sees
And in a startled voice he says to what's before his eyes
Och, lad I don't know where you've been but I see you won first prize
Ring-ding-diddle-liddle-I-de-o, ring-di-diddley-I-o
Och, lad I don't know where you've been but I see you won first prize


35. Intro: Bob

36. Bob
? 1967 Vincent Matthews, Jack Clement, Universal-Songs of Polygram International, Harry Fox Agency
   Those days on the [U.S.C.G.C]Sebago were full of adequate food, long watches, and some truly memorable pickin' sessions in the weather lab on the ship. Until the ship took a roll and one of the pickers stepped on my banjo. Arrrrgh! (BZ)

Thanks for the bed and board Bob enjoyed my stay
But I got just a little bit bored Bob be on my way
So you got yourself a job Bob that's not for me
You got a house and a wife Bob but I'm still free
Remember the good ole days around the Frisco yard Bob for you they're gone
Now your wife's lookin' at me kinda hard Bob I'll move along

So you got yourself a housewife Bob and a housenote too
Reclining chairs and phone bills Bob that's not for you
I'm a headin' out LA way Bob there ain't no spare
The freight pulls out today Bob do you dare
Remember the good times down in New Orleans Bob that Cajun Queen
And your wife's lookin' at me kinda hard Bob she thinks I'm mean

Thanks for the bed and board Bob enjoyed my stay
But just forget all the top Bob bout the good ole days
Cause your wife's a little bit scared Bob you wanna be free
But you and me both know Bob you're better off than me
Remember the cold nights out on Frisco yard Bob and the hard cold ground
Now your wife's lookin' at me kinda hard Bob see you around


DISC 2:

1. Intro: Mirrors and Changes

2. Mirrors and Changes
?1974 Bob Zentz, BMI
   A song about infinite regression -- something to reflect upon. Life aboard that ship was like living in a Tardis ... except the compartments were smaller on the inside ... (BZ)

Sitting in a barber’s chair on a birthday afternoon
Starin’ at the mirrors hung from both sides of the room
With me between the two of them, I stared into the haze
Of all the mirrors and the changes of my younger days

From the mirror, hung before, looking back at me
Each image one year younger was the boy I used to be
Reflections of each season, year, that went their separate ways
Within the mirrors and the changes of my younger days

So I sat there, looking at a face I thought I’d known
Speaking out the changes and the time that I had grown
A student and a sailor and a little boy at play
Within the mirrors and the changes of a younger day

I smiled and they smiled back at me like some old long-lost friend
And we shared in knowing we were just the means to some big end
But our smiles were built on love of life, and time is all we paid
To view the mirrors and the changes of our younger days

As the barber swung the chair around, I wondered what I’d find
In the changes that tomorrow brings to the mirrors of my mind
So I questioned what would be, and I put away my fears
To face the mirrors and the changes of my later years

Sitting in a barber’s chair just rubbin’ both my eyes
Well, I must have fell asleep a while, I didn’t realize
I dreamed I rode a time machine across the years like waves
To view the mirrors and the changes of my younger days


3. Intro: Chariots

4. (Some Trust In)Chariots
?1979 Bob Zentz, BMI
   One thing I loved about that wonderful film was that the form of communication between ourselves and the aliens was music. These days, I think that music is probably the most universal form of communication we have. Wish we'd use it more. (BZ)

When the night is a curtain of velvet blue
And a falling star splits the sky in two
Orion smiles and Ezekiel knew
That a chariot would carry him home

    Let the wheels in the sky go ‘round and ‘round
    Let the sun and the moon go up and down
    Let the singing stars be my glory crown
    And the chariot’s gonna carry me home
On all the stars like grains of sand
On every world where life began
Where such a tiny thing as man
Dreams of chariots to carry him home

Some trust in legends of old
Some trust in coins of gold
Some try to save their souls
Some trust in chariots

Some search for the glory throne
In a universe unknown
I trust we’re not alone
I trust in chariots

Preachers and professors watching from below
Looking for answers they’ll never know
Why the fools will stay when the dreamers go
On the chariots that carry them home

Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin’ for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin’ for to carry me home


5. Intro: The Road and the Miles to Dundee

6. The Road and the Miles to Dundee
traditional/McKay
   That harmonium sounds so good. Wish I still had it. (BZ)
   It's attributed to Richard McKay in most sources we've found today, but Mudcat offers a second suggestion, D. Young of Fife, taken from an art poem by Charles Gray, also of Fife. The tune is said to be Bonnie Dundee, trad, but it must be an alternate Bonnie Dundee to the tune we know. (notes from Jeanne McDougall)

Cold winter was howlin' o'er moorland and mountain
And wild was the surge of the dark rolling sea
When I met about daybreak a bonnie young lassie
Who asked me the road and the miles to Dundee.

Says I, "My young lassie, I canna weel tell ye,
The road and the distance I canna weel gie,
But if you'll permit me to gang a wee bittie,
I'll show you the road and the miles to Dundee."

The lassie consented and gie me her airm
Not a word did I speir wha the lassie micht be
She appeared like an angel in feature and form
As she walked by my side on the road to Dundee.

At length wi' the howe o' Strathmartine behind us
The spires o' the toon in full view we could see,
She said, "Gentle sir, I can never forget ye
For showin' me so far on the road to Dundee.

This ring and this purse please accept as a token
And surely there's somethin' that ye can gi'e me,
That in years to come I'll the laddie remember
Who showed me the road and the miles to Dundee?"

I took the gold pin frae the scarf on my bosom,
And said, "Tak' ye this, in remembrance o' me",
And bravely I kissed the sweet lips o' the lassie
And I pairted frae her on the road to Dundee.

So here's tae the lassie; I canna forget her,
And ilka young laddie wha's listenin' to me,
O never be sweir to convey a young lassie,
Though it's only to show her the road to Dundee.


7. Intro: Song for Gale

8. Song For Gale
?1988 Larry Kaplan, Hannah Lane Music, BMI
    This is just one of those fine songs that songwriter/musician Larry Kaplan has written over the years. This one is about his friend Gale Huntington; farmer, fisherman, fiddler and folklorist from Martha's Vineyard Island. (GB)

Blue skies, south wind, fish jumping into your hand,
What a time to be working old Nantucket Sound,
From the Islands into the mainland.
Worn out, smelling of bait, you’d come home by the end of the day;
And the sun over West Chop,
Those warm summer breezes,
Made you think it would never change.

    Get me my fiddle, we’ll sing all the old songs,
    Now you take the high notes, and I’ll sing the low.
    Good times and hard times, they’re worth all the telling,
    It won’t matter to me, If you sing ‘em that well.

I remember the time, when you worked for a living,
Pushing hard just to get back to shore.
When you busted your back or you just wouldn’t eat,
They don’t talk much of that anymore.
When you sat with the old folks, fell asleep from their stories,
Stayed awake with the howling winds,
Sang you songs till the children
Were all tucked away warm, and the night tides come rolling back in.

Blue skies, South wind, fish jumping into your hand,
What a time to be working old Nantucket Sound
From the Islands into the mainland


9. Intro: All the Good People

10. All the Good People
?1978 Ken Hicks
    Chicago loves this song, but it was born in Virginia. Proud to have sung it there. (BZ)

This is a song for all the good people
All the good people who touched up my life.
This is a song for all the good people
People I'm thankin' my stars for tonight.

This is a verse for all the good women
Who knew what I needed was something they had
Food on the table, a heart that was able
Able to keep me just this side of sad.

This is a song for all the good fellows
Who shared up my time, some good and some bad
We drank in the kitchen and shared no competition
Each knowing the other was a good friend to have

This is a song for all the good people
All the good people who touched up my life.
Some helped in small ways, and some helped in hallways
And some always told me you're doin' all right.

This is a song I sing for my lady
For my lady who puts up with me
My ramblin' and roamin', my late night come-homin'
She is the sunshine that flows down on me.

This is a verse for the pickers and singers
Whose songs and whose voices have blended with mine
On the back steps and stages, for hugs and for wages,
It's some kind of sharing and some kind of fine.


11. Intro: Loch Rannoch/Loch Duich/Scarborough Settler's Lament

12. Loch Rannoch/Loch Duich/Scarborough Settler's Lament
traditiona/traditiona/tune:traditiona/lyrics: Sandy Glendenning
    I first heard these tunes in an anchorage in Cape Breton Island many years ago. Two pipers were practicing them long enough for me to catch the shape of them. I didn't learn their names until years later. I learned Scarborough Settler's Lament from Ed Trickett. (GB)

Away with Canada's muddy creeks
And Canada's fields of pine;
Your land of wheat is a goodly land,
But oh, it is not mine.
The heathy hill, the grassy dale,
The daisy spangled lea,
The purling burn and the craggy linn,
Old Scotia's land give me.

How I'd love to hear again
The lark on Tinny's hill,
And see the wee bit gowany
That blooms beside the rill.
Like banished Swiss who views afar
His Alps, with longing e'e,
I gaze upon the morning star
That shines on my country.

No more I'll wend by Eskdale Pen
Or Pentland's craggy cone.
The days shall ne'er return again
Of thirty years that's gone.
But fancy oft at midnight hour
Will steal across the sea;
Yestre'en amidst a pleasant dream
I saw my own country.

Each well-known scene that met my view,
Brought childhood's joys to mind
The blackbird sand on Tushy Linn
The song he sang "Lang Syne."
But like a dream, steals away,
Then morning came.
And I awoke in Canada
Three thousand miles from home.


13. Intro: Habour Le Cou

14. Harbour Le Cou
traditional Newfoundland, collected by Gerald S Doyle, from Favorite Songs of Newfoundland ? 1969 BMI Canada Ltd
    Harbour Le Cou is located not dar East of Port aux Basques, Newfoundland. I probably learned this song from a Newfoundlander that joined us in the Schooner Alice S. Wenworth for a couple of weeks, but my memory is hazy about this. (GB)

As I rowed ashore from my schooner close by,
A girl on the beach I chanced to espy;
Her hair it was red and her bonnet was blue;
Her place of abode was Harbour Le Cou.

O boldly I asked her to talk on the sand,
She smiled like an angel and held out her hand;
So I buttoned me Guernsey and hove me way chew
In the dark rolling waters of Harbor Le Cou.

My ship she lay anchored far out on the tide,
As I strolled along with the maid at my side;
I told her I loved her; she said, “I’ll be true,”
As I winked at the moon over Harbour Le Cou.

As we walked on the sands at the close of the day,
I thought of my wife who was home in Torbay;
I knew that she’d kill me if she only knew
I was courting a lassie in Harbour Le Cou.

As we passed a log cabin that stood on the shore,
I met an old comrade I’d sailed with before,
He treated me kindly, saying, “Jack, how are you?”
“It’s seldom I see you in Harbour Le Cou.”

And as I was parting, this maiden in tow,
He broke up my party with one single blow,
Saying, “Regards to your missus and wee kiddies two,
I remember her well, she’s from Harbour Le Cou.”

I looked at this damsel a-standing ‘long side,
Her jaw it dropped, and her mouth opened wide;
And then like a she-cat upon me she flew,
And I fled from the furies of Harbour Le Cou.

Come all you young sailors who walk on the shore,
Beware of old comrades you’d sailed with before;
Beware of the maiden with bonnet of blue,
And the pretty young damsels of Harbour Le Cou.


15. Intro: Turning Toward the Morning

16. Turning Toward the Morning
?1977 Gordon Bok, BMI
    This was a response to a letter from a woman I knew who was having a hard time facing the winter. (GB)

When the deer has bedded down
And the bear has gone to ground,
And the Northern goose has wondered off
To warmer bay and sound,
It's so easy in the cold to feel
The darkness of the year
And the heart is growing lonely
For the morning.

    Oh, my Joanie, don't you know
    That the stars are swinging slow,
    And the seas are rolling easy
    As they did so long ago?
    If I had a thing to give you,
    I would tell you one more time
    That the world is always turning
    Toward the morning.

Now October's growing thin
And November's coming home;
You'll be thinking of the season
And the sad things that you've see,
And you hear that old wind walking,
Hear him singing high and thin,
You could swear he's out there singing
Of your sorrow.

When the darkness falls around you
And the Northwind comes to blow,
And you hear him call your name out
As he walks the brittle snow:
That old wind don't mean you trouble,
He don't care or even know,
He's just walking down the darkness
Toward the morning.

It's a pity you don't know
What the little flowers know.
They can't face the cold November,
They can't take the wind and snow:
They put their glories all behind them,
Bow their heads and let it go,
But you know they'll be there shining
In the morning.

Now, my Joanie don't you know
That the days are rolling slow,
And the winter's walking easy,
As he did so long ago?
And, if that wind should come and ask you,
"Why's my Joanie weeping so?"
Won't you tell him that you're weeping
For the morning?


17. Intro: Long Gone Jones

18. The Ballad of Long Gone Jones
?1958 Ruth Moore, from her book Cold as Dog and the Wind Northeast ?2000 Timberhead Music
    Ruth Moore was - to my mind - the finest novelist of the coast and islands of Maine as I knew it growing up there. She was also a very wise and witty person. (GB)

A hundred thousand miles from land,
    A hundred fathom deep,
Sorry Bill and Windyhill
And Salvadore, they sleep.

The cod he et their eyeballs out
These twenty years agone,
And the halibut rolls above the poles
They hung their hammocks on.

But wrinkled like a salted hake
And bearded like a tree,
Long-Gone Jones come back to land
He never thought he’d see.
    “I only seen horizons,
    For twenty years,”
    Said he.
    “And I will tell you here and now
    Just how
    This came to be.

“I was standing trick with Windyhill
Of a clear night,” said he,
“So clear I see a petrel fly
Between the moon and me,

And the ship was sailing soft and sweet,
Like a lady about to sing,
When I looked away to the looward side,
And I see a peculiar thing.

Now I never see such a curious thing
In all my years at sea,
For here come a fogbank blowing in
Against what wind there be.

And before I so much as spit on my thumb
To feel what ailed the breeze,
The vessel slid into that bank of fog
Like a maggit into a cheese.

We gawped at the rigging lights go out
As if they’d been doused in milk,
And Windy’s hair crept up on his head
With a sound like rustling silk.

For a minute I breathed them fog-drops in
A-thinking, What can this be?
    I couldn’t sing out
    To Windyhill;
    He didn’t
    Sing out
    To me.

Then I smelt to the east and I smelt to the west
Like you do when it’s thick of fog,
And all of a sudden I smelt green fields
And sun on a cranberry bog;

And out of the mull an island come
Like a ship a-sailing by,
Her bow was made of a granite cliff
A hundred fathom high,
    And the monstrous wave
    From her forefoot
    It riz us to the sky.

We felt the vessel starting up,
And Windy spoke with a croak:
‘Missed us, by God!’ said Windyhill,
But that was the last he spoke;

And as I saw that bow-wave roll
Against the milky moon,
The honest thought come to my head
That he had spoke too soon.

We roared straight up through that bank of fog
Into moonlight white as wine,
I looked around and I see the stars
And the icy cold sky shine.

The comets out of the Milky Way
Come flicking the vessel’s spars;
And I see the earth like a rubber ball
Down there amongst the stars;

I see the moon like a big cartwheel
And touched her as I went by,
If you want to know what the moon feels like,
She feels like a haddock’s eye.

Then all of a sudden we hit the top
And we started whirling blind,
And all the rags of all the sails
Went streaming out behind.
Thinks I, When she drops, she’ll hit the sea
Like a rock hove into a well,
So I better jump, and so, I jumped,
    And bless
    My dear heart
    How I
    Fell!

I see the earth come up to me,
Calm in the moonlit night,
With the ocean as wide as the wide, wide world,
A-waiting for me to light;

And there in the middle of all that sea,
Bone-white, like a damn great tray,
Was that fogbank setting and bubbling,
In a most peculiar way;

And I lit with a monstrous crashing thump
That night unshackled me;
But it wasn’t the ocean I landed in,
‘Twas the top of an ellum tree.

And it come to me like a blast of light
As clear as a boiling-spring,
I’d lit like a bird on that island
That had started the whole damn thing.

Then I heard a terrible moaning sound,
Like a gale in a vessel’s spars,
And I see the ship come whirling down
Between the moon and stars.

She struck the sea with scattering crash
And smashed like a china cup,
Nor Sorry Bill nor Windyhill
Nor Salvadore come up.

Well, I peeked through the tree at the island’s bow,
And there was a binnacle light,
And a monstrous great wheel and compass-box,
And a critter taking a sight;
    And I see one-half
    Of a cloven foot;
    And I knowed
    Who it was,
    All right.

Now the voyage I begun that night went on
For twenty year and more;
We sailed all over the seas there be
And never come to shore.

We sailed all over the seas there be,
On mischief and murder bent;
If you hear about ships as never come back,
Why, I know where them vessels went.

And how did I come ashore? says you.
Says you, For here I be.
Well, one night
We had a hell of a storm,
And the island sunk,”
Said he.


19. Intro: Joshua Gone Barbados

20. Joshua Gone Barbados
? Eric Von Schmidt, Harry Fox Agency
    Sometimes the darkest tales are musically knit with a great beauty. (BZ)
There are several arrangements of these lyrics - below is the version sung on this recording.

There's cane standin' in the fields gettin' dark and red
There's a lot of misery in Georgetown, there's three men' lyin' dead
Joshua head of the government said strike for better pay
Them cane cutters are strikin', now Joshua's gone away
Joshua gone Barbados stayin' in a big hotel
People on St Vincent got many sad tales to tell

The sugar mill owner told the strikers don't need you to cut my cane
I'll bring in another bunch of fellas, the strike be all in vain
Bring in a bunch of tough fellas, bring 'em from Zion Hill
Bring 'em in a bus to Georgetown, you know somebody will be killed

Police givin' protection to new fellas cuttin' cane
Strikers can't do nothin' strike be all in vain
But Joshua gone Barbados just like he don't know
People on the island well they got no place to go
There's a lot of misery in Georgetown you can hear the women bawl
But Joshua gone Barbados like he don't care at all

Sunny Child the overseer, I swear he's an ignorant man
Come a-walkin' through the canefields with a pistol in his hand
Sunny Child he cursed the strikers, wavin' his pistol round
Now they're beatin' Sunny with the cutless, Lord they're beatin' him to the ground
Joshua gone Barbados just like he don't know
People on the island well they got no place to go

I wish I could go to England, Trinidad or Curacao
All the people on the island, they got no place to go
Cane standin' in the fields gettin' dark and red
There's a lot of misery in Georgetown, there's three men lying' dead
There's cane standin' in the fields gettin' dark and red
Sunny Child's in the hospital, with his pistol on his bed

But Joshua gone Barbados stayin' in a big hotel
People on St Vincent got many sad tales to tell
Joshua gone Barbados just like he don't know
People on the island, they got no place to go


21. Intro: Guadeloupe Dance

22. Guadeloupe Dance
traditional Guadeloupe
    As you can hear from my introduction, I really know nothing about this tune except where I learned it. I hope someone out there will enlighten me, and I'll pass it on, at least electronically. (GB)


23. Intro: Sweet Song From Yesterday

24. Sweet Song From Yesterday
?1979, 1992 Bob Zentz, BMI
    In the hands of many good people, this song has been to more places than I have. Thank you. (BZ)

Hold back the days in which I’m living
So far from home, so far from free
Fold back the ways we’ve all been given
And let a sweet song from yesterday wash over me

If we should meet, like ships a-passin’
Some stormy night upon the blue
We may not speak but for the askin’
I’d let a sweet song from yesterday wash over you

When it seems your dreams aren’t worth the dreamin’
And when you can’t find your way through
When all your schemes aren’t worth the schemin’
Just let a sweet song from yesterday wash over you

Let a sweet song from yesterday wash over me


25. Intro: Ain't You Got a Right to the Tree of Life

26. Ain't You Got a Right to the Tree of Life
?1965 Guy Carawan, ?1985 Stormking Music, Inc
    From the Gullah culture of South Carolina. Guy and Candie Carawan collected this when they lived on Johns Island SC in the 1960s and published it in a book of the same name. The version I learned was somewhat different, though probably from the same source. (GB)

Tell My Mother (Ain't You Got a Right)
Tell My Father (Ain't You Got a Right)
All My Children (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right to the Tree of Life

All my Brothers (Ain't You Got a Right)
Tell My Sisters (Ain't You Got a Right)
Tell everybody (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right

Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
To The Tree Of Life

Gonna tell all my brothers (Ain't You Got a Right)
Gonna tell all my sisters (Ain't You Got a Right)
Gonna tell all the world (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
To the Tree of life

Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right to the Tree of Life

My Life Will Be Sweeter (Ain't You Got a Right)
So Sweet Some Day (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
To The Tree Of Life

Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
Yes, we all got a right (Ain't You Got a Right)
You can tell of the children (Ain't You Got a Right)
To the tree of life

We come from a distance (Ain't You Got a Right)
Yes, We all got a right (Ain't You Got a Right)
Ain't You Got a Right (Ain't You Got a Right)
To The tree of life


27. Intro: Daddy Don't You Tell No Lies

28. Daddy Don't You Tell No Lies
?1989 Si Kahn, Joe Hill Music (administered by Conexion Media Group, Inc) Copyright renewed. International Copyright secured. All rights reserved. Used by permission.
    You probably can't see this on your CD, but the audience is laughing because Brother Bok attempted to play his cellamba like Hendrix. A great end to a great time, and what a fabulous audience! These truly were the "good ol' days" -- and for my part, I'd love to dedicate this album to these good ol' folk of Chicago. (BZ)

    Daddy don’t you tell no lies
    Talkin’ bout the old times ways
    Daddy don’t you tell no lies
    Talkin’ bout the good old days, oh yeah
    Talkin’ bout the good old days

There were strawberries big as baseballs and raspberries ‘round as your arm
There were peaches big as watermelons just a-growing on that Georgia farm
And there were rows of yellow sweet corn growing in the morning light
We’d plant ‘em on a Monday morning and then eat ‘em on a Friday night

Back then nobody got in trouble and nobody got in fights
Weren’t no drinking moonshine whiskey and there were no staying out all night
Everybody worked like horses and they never stopped to take a rest
Everybody had religion and everybody done their best

Everybody was a neighbor and every neighbor was a friend
Children listened to their parents and women listened to their men
You didn’t have no trouble-makers just a-stirrin’ up the countryside
Everyone knew their places and everyone was satisfied


Lyrics and Chords to Bob Zentz songs can be found on his website in the Bob Zentz Songbook.
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