Por Yovi-Girl @ 19:58 | Bruce Springsteen
Old Dan Tucker
An antique fiddle tune, often used for square dances, made famous around 1843 when Dan Emmett, one of the greatest early minstrel singers, wrote a version of these lyrics for his group, the Virgia Minstrels.
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Old Dan Tucker was a fine old man
Washed his face in a fryin' pan
Combed his head with a wagon wheel
Died with a toothache in his heel
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Old Dan Tucker come to town
Riding a billy goat, leading a hound
The hound dog barked and billy goat jumped
And landed old Tucker on a stump
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Old Dan Tucker got drunk and fell
in the fire and kicked up holy hell
A red-hot coal got in his shoe
An oh my Lord the ashes flew
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Now old Dan Tucker come to town
Swinging them ladies all around
First to the right and then to the left
Then to the gal that he loved best
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Get out the way, old Dan Tucker
You’re too late to get your supper
Jesse James
This historical ballad originated in the immediate aftermath of James’s murder (by a friend for a $25 reward). Written by minstrel Billy Gashade and rewritten as social protest by Woody Guthrie in 1939. This version is derived from the original.
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Jesse James was a lad
that killed many a man
He robbed the Glendale train
He stole from the rich and he gave to the poor
He'd a hand and a heart and a brain
Well it was Robert Ford, that dirty little coward
I wonder now how he feels
For he ate of Jesse's bread
and he slept in Jesse's bed
And he laid poor Jesse in his grave
Well Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children now they were brave
Well that dirty little coward
that shot Mr. Howard
He laid poor Jesse in his grave
Well Jesse was a man and a friend to the poor
He'd never rob a mother or a child
There never was a man with the law in his hand
That could take Jesse James when alive
It was on a Saturday night
Well the moon was shining bright
They robbed the Glendale train
And people they did say over many miles away
it was those outlaws, Frank and Jesse James
Well Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children now they were brave
But that dirty little coward
that shot Mr. Howard
He laid poor Jesse in his grave
Now the people held their breath
when they heard of Jesse's death
They wondered how he'd ever come to fall
Robert Ford, it was a fact, he shot Jesse in the back
While Jesse hung a picture on the wall
Jesse went to rest with his hand on his breast
The devil upon his knee
He was born one day in the county Clay
And he came from a solitary race
Well Jesse had a wife to mourn for his life
Three children, now they were brave
Well that dirty little coward
that shot Mr. Howard
He laid poor Jesse in his grave
Mrs. McGrath
Strongly associated with the Irish Republicans and the Easter Rising of 1916, this antiwar ballad was first published in 1815 as a Dublin broadside.
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"Mrs McGrath," the sergeant said,
"Would you like a soldier of your son Ted?
With a scarlet coat and a big cocked hat
Now Mrs McGrath would you like that?"
With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa,
too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa,
fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa
Now Mrs McGrath lived on the shore
And after seven years or more
she spied a ship come into the bay
with her son from far away
"O captain dear, where have ye been?
You been sailing the Mediterranean?
Have you news of my son Ted?
Is he living or is he dead?"
With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa,
too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa,
fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa
Then came Ted without any legs
and in their place two wooden pegs
She kissed him a dozen times or two
and said, "my God, Ted, is it you?
Now were ye drunk or were ye blind
when ye left your two fine legs behind?
Or was it walking upon the sea
that wore your two fine legs away?"
With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa,
too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa,
fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa
Now I wasn't drunk and I wasn't blind
when I left my two fine legs behind
A cannonball on the fifth of May
tore my two fine legs away"
"My, Teddy boy," the widow cried
"Your two fine legs were yer mother's pride
Stumps of a tree won't do at all
Why didn't ye run from the cannon ball?"
With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa,
too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa,
fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa
"All foreign wars, I do proclaim
Live on blood an a mothers pain
I'd rather have my son as he used to be
than the King of America and his whole Navy"
With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa,
too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa,
fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa
With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa,
too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa,
fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa
With your too-ri-aa, fol-did-dle-di-aa,
too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa, too-ri-aa,
fol-did-dle-di-aa, too-ri-oo-ri-oo-ri-aa
O Mary dont you Weep
One of the most important negro spirituals, adapted by black Pentecostal churches, the song then made its way into the freedom song repertoire of the civil rights movement.
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Well if I could I surely would
Stand on the rock where Moses stood
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't you weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't you weep
Well Mary wore three links of chain
On every link was Jesus' name
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't you weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't you weep
Well one of these nights bout 12 o'clock
This old world is gonna rock
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
Well Moses stood on the Red Sea shore
And smote' the water with a two by four
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
Well old Mr. Satan he got mad
Missed that soul that he thought he had
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
Brothers and sisters don't you cry
There'll be good times by and by
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
God gave Noah the rainbow sign
Said "No more water but fire next time"
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't weep
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
O Mary don't you weep, don't mourn
Pharaoh's army got drownded
O Mary don't
John Henry
Germinated from a true story of man versus machine combat, which occurred during the building of Eastern railroads in the late 19th century.
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Well John Henry was a little baby
Sittin' on his daddy's knee
He picked up a hammer and a little piece of steel
And cried, "hammer's gonna be
the death of me, Lord, Lord
Hammer's gonna be the death of me"
Now the captain he said to John Henry
"I'm gonna bring that steam drill around
I'm gonna bring that steam drill out on these tracks
I'm gonna knock that steel on down, God, God
I'm gonna knock that steel on down"
John Henry told his captain,
"Lord a man ain't nothin' but a man
But before I let this steam drill beat me down
I'm gonna die with a hammer in my hand, Lord, Lord
I’ll die with a hammer in my hand"
John Henry driving on the right side
That steam drill driving on the left
Says, "'fore I let your steam drill beat me down
I'm gonna hammer myself to death, Lord, Lord
I'll hammer my fool self to death"
Well captain said to John Henry
"What is that storm I hear?"
John Henry said, "That ain't no storm captain,
that's just my hammer in the air, Lord, Lord
That's just my hammer in the air"
John Henry said to his shaker
"Shaker, why don't you sing?
Cause I'm swingin' thirty pounds
from my hips on down
Yeah, listen to my cold steel ring, Lord, Lord
Listen to my cold steel ring"
John Henry he hammered in the mountains
His hammer was striking fire
But he worked so hard; it broke his heart
John Henry laid his hammer and died, Lord, Lord
John Henry laid down his hammer and died
Well now John Henry he had him a woman
By the name of Polly Ann
She walked out to those tracks
Picked up John Henry's hammer
Polly drove steel like a man, Lord, Lord
Polly drove that steel like a man
Well every, every Monday morning
When a blue bird he began to sing
You could hear John Henry from a mile or more
You could hear John Henry's hammer ring,
Lord, Lord
You can hear John Henry's hammer ring
I say, you can hear John Henry's
hammer ring, Lord, Lord
You can hear John Henry's hammer ring
Erie Canal
Written in 1905 by Thomas S. Allen as “Low Bridge, Everybody Down”, but now as much a folk song as if it had become written eighty years earlier in the canal’s heyday.
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I've got a mule and her name is Sal
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
She's a good old worker
and a good old pal
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
We haul'd some barges in our day
Filled with lumber, coal and hay
We know every inch of the way
From Albany to Buffalo
Low bridge, everybody down
Low bridge, we're coming to a town
You'll always know your neighbor
And you'll always know your pal
If ya ever navigated on the Erie Canal
We'd better look around
for a job, old gal
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
You can bet your life
I'll never part with Sal
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
Get up mule, here comes a lock
We'll make Rome 'bout six o'clock
One more trip and back we'll go
Right back home to Buffalo
Low bridge, everybody down
Low bridge, we're coming to a town
You'll always know your neighbor
And you'll always know your pal
If ya ever navigated on the Erie Canal
Where would I be if I lost my pal?
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
I'd like to see a mule as good as my Sal
Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
A friend of mine once got her sore
Now he's got a broken jaw
'Cause she let fly with an iron toe
And kicked him back to Buffalo
Low bridge, everybody down
Low bridge, we're coming to a town
You'll always know your neighbor
And you'll always know your pal
If ya ever navigated on the Erie Canal
Low bridge, everybody down
Low bridge, we're coming to a town
Jacob's Ladder
A Negro spiritual based on Genesis 28:11-19, Jacob’s prophetic dream of escape from bondage. A new chorus was written by striking textile workers in the 1940s; Pete Seeger created a new chorus. Best know as a Sunday School tune but gospel recordings by the Ward Singers and the Staple Singers are memorable. Pete recorded it on Singalong: Live at Sanders Theater, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1980.
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We are climbing Jacob's ladder
We are climbing Jacob's ladder
We are climbing Jacob's ladder
We’re brothers, and sisters, all
Every rung goes higher and higher
Every rung goes higher and higher
Every rung goes higher and higher
We’re brothers, and sisters, all
Every new rung just, just makes us stronger
Every new rung just, just makes us stronger
Every new rung just, just makes us stronger
We’re brothers, and sisters, all
Yeah, we are climbing Jacob's ladder
Yeah, we are climbing Jacob's ladder
We are climbing Jacob's ladder
We are brothers, and sisters, all
Yeah we are climbing higher and higher
We are climbing higher and higher
Yeah we are climbing higher and higher
We are brothers, and sisters, all
We are climbing, climbing Jacob's ladder
Yeah we are climbing Jacob's ladder
We are climbing Jacob's ladder
We are brothers, and sisters, all
My Oklahoma Home
Written with her brother Bill by Agnes “sis” Cunningham, member of the Almanac Singers, union organizer, founder-editor of Broadside magazine, and herself a Dust Bowl refugee.
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When they opened up the strip
I was young and full of zip
I wanted some place to call my home
And so I made the race
And I staked me out a place
And I settled down along the Cimarron
It blowed away, it blowed away
My Oklahoma home, it blown away
Well it looked so green and fair
when I built my shanty there
Now my Oklahoma home, it blown away
Well I planted wheats and oats,
Got some chickens and some shoats
Aimed to have some ham
and eggs to feed my face
Got a mule to pull the plow,
Got an old red muley cow
And I also got a fancy mortgage on this place
Well it blowed away, it blowed away
All the crops that I've planted blown away
Well you can't grow any grain
if you ain't got any rain
Everything except my mortgage blown away
Well it looked so green and fair
when I built my shanty there
I figured I was all set for life
I put on my Sunday best
with my fancy scalloped vest
And I went to town to pick me out a wife
She blowed away, she blowed away
My Oklahoma woman blowed away
Mister as I bent to kiss her
she was picked up by a twister
My Oklahoma woman blown away
Well then I was left alone
Just listening to the moan
of the wind around the corners of my shack
So I took off down the road, yeah
when the south wind blowed
I traveled with the wind upon my back
I blowed away, I blowed away
Chasin' that dust cloud up ahead
Once it looked so green and fair
Now it's up in the air, my Oklahoma farm
is over head
Well now I'm always close to home
It don't matter where I roam
For Oklahoma dust is everywhere
Makes no difference where I'm walkin'
I can hear my chickens squawkin'
I can hear my wife a-talking in the air
It blowed away , it blowed away
Yeah, my Oklahoma home it blown away
But my home Sir, is always near
It's up here in the atmosphere
My Oklahoma home is blown away
Well I'm a roam'n Oklahoman
but I'm always close to home
And I'll never get homesick until I die
'Cause no matter where I'm found
my home's all around
My Oklahoma home is in the sky
It blowed away, it blowed away
My farm down on Cimarron
Now all around the world
Where ever the dust is swirled
there is some from my Oklahoma home
Oh and it’s blown away
it’s blown away
Oh my Oklahoma home is blown away
Yeah it's up there in the sky
In that dust cloud over n' by
My Oklahoma home is in the sky
Eyes on the Prize
A Holiness hymn also known as “Gospel Plow”, “Paul and Silas” and “Hold on”, “Keep your hand on the plow” became “Keep your eyes on the prize” in a 1956 rewrite by the civil rights activist Alice Wine. The most exciting versions were recorded at Movement mass meetings, sung by local freedom marchers.
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Paul and Silas bound in jail
Had no money for to go their bail
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Paul and Silas thought they was lost
Dungeon shook and the chains come off
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Freedom's name is mighty sweet
And soon we're gonna meet
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
I got my hand on the gospel plow
Won't take nothing for my journey now
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Hold on, hold on
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Only chain that a man can stand
Is that chain o' hand on hand
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
I'm gonna board that big Greyhound
Carry the love from town to town
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Hold on, hold on
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
The only thing I did was wrong
Was stayin' in the wilderness too long
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
The only thing we did was right
Was the day we started to fight
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Hold on, hold on
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Hold on, hold on
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Hold on, hold on
Keep your eyes on the prize
Hold on
Ain't been to heaven but I been told
Streets up there are paved with gold
Shenandoah
An American pioneer’s homesick and lovelorn lament, from very early in the country’s history, probably the first two decades of the 19th century.
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Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Away, you rolling river
I'll take her across the water
Away, we’re bound away
Cross the wide Missouri
My Shenandoah, I long to see you
Away, you rolling river
I'll not deceive you
Away, bound away
Cross the wide Missouri
Seven years I've been a rover
Away, you rolling river
Seven years I've been a roller
Away, bound away
Cross the wide Missouri
Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Away, you rolling river
I'll take her across the water
Away, bound away
Cross the wide Missouri
Pay Me my Money Down
Identified as a sea chantey but actually a protest song of the black stevedores in Georgia and South Carolina ports; unscrupulous ship captains would often try to slip out of the harbour with their workers unpaid.
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I thought I heard the captain say
Pay me my money down
Tomorrow is our sailing day
Pay me my money down
Pay me, pay me
Pay me my money down
Pay me or go to jail
Pay me my money down
Soon as the boat was cleared of the bar
Pay me money down
He knocked me down with a spar
Pay me my money down
Pay me, pay me
Pay me my money down
Pay me or go to jail
Pay me my money down
Well if I'd been a rich man's son
Pay me my money down
I'd sit on the river and watch 'er run
Pay me my money down
Pay me, pay me
Pay me my money down
Pay me or go to jail
Pay me my money down
Well I wish I was Mr. Gates
Pay me my money down
They'd haul my money in, in crates
Pay me my money down
Pay me, pay me
Pay me my money down
Pay me or go to jail
Pay me my money down
Well fourty days and nights at sea
Pay me my money down
Captain worked every
last dollar out of me
Pay me my money down
Pay me, pay me
Pay me my money down
Pay me or go to jail
Pay me my money down
Pay me, pay me
Pay me my money down
Pay me or go to jail
Pay me my money down
Pay me, pay me
Pay me my money down
Pay me or go to jail
Pay me my money down
We Shall Overcome
The most important political protest song of all-time, sung around the world wherever people fight for justice and aquality. Originally a Baptist hymn, brought into the labor movement in the 1930s, popularized among civil rights workers in the 1950s at the Highlander Folk School in Tennessee.
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We shall overcome, we shall overcome
We shall overcome someday
Here in my heart, I do believe
We shall overcome someday
Well we'll walk hand in hand
We'll walk hand in hand
We'll walk hand in hand someday
Here in my heart, I do believe
We'll walk hand in hand someday
Well we shall live in peace, we shall live in peace
We shall live in peace someday
Here in my heart, I do believe
We shall live in peace someday
Well we are not afraid, we are not afraid
We shall overcome someday
well here in my heart, I do believe
We shall overcome someday
We shall overcome, we shall overcome
We shall overcome someday
Here in my heart, I do believe
We shall overcome someday
We shall overcome someday
Froggie went a Courtin'
The most ancient tune here; the earliest version we’ve tracked is from Scotland in 1549.
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Mr Frog went a courting and he did ride, uh-huh
Froggie went a courtin' and he did ride, uh-huh
Froggie went a courtin' and he did ride
Sword and pistol by his side
Uh- huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
He went down to Miss Mousie's door, uh-huh
He went down to Miss Mousie's door, uh-huh
He went down to Miss Mousie's door
Where he had often been before
Uh-huh, a-huh, uh-huh
He took Miss Mouse up on his knee, uh-huh
Said "Miss Mousie will you marry me?", uh-huh
"Without my Uncle Rat's consent
I wouldn't marry the President"
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
Well Uncle Rat he gave his consent, uh-huh
Hey Uncle Rat he gave his consent, uh-huh
Uncle Rat he gave his consent
And the weasel wrote the publishment
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
Well now where will the wedding supper be, uh-huh
Where will the wedding supper be, uh-huh
Well where will the wedding supper be
Way down yonder in a hollow tree
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
Yeah the first come in was a flying moth, uh-huh
First come in was a flying moth, uh-huh
First come in was a flying moth
Who laid out the tablecloth
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
Well the next come in was a junie bug, uh-huh
The next come in was a junie bug, uh-huh
Next come in was a junie bug
She brought the whiskey in a water jug,
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
The next come in was a big black snake, uh-huh
Next come in was a big black snake, uh-huh
Next come in was a big black snake
Chased them all into the lake
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
Little piece of cornbread
laying on a shelf, uh-huh
Little piece of cornbread
laying on a shelf, uh-huh
Little piece of cornbread laying on a shelf
If you want any more, you can sing it yourself
Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh
Buffalo Gals
As I was walking down the street
Down the street, down the street
A pretty girl I chanced to meet
And we danced by the light of the moon
Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight
Come out tonight come out tonight
Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight
And we'll dance by the light of the moon
I danced with a gal with a hole in her stocking
And her knees was a-knockin'
And her shoes was a'rockin'
I danced with a gal with a hole in her stocking
And we danced by the light of the moon
Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight
Come out tonight come out tonight
Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight
And we'll dance by the light of the moon
I danced with a gal with a hole in her stocking
And her knees was a-knockin'
And her shoes was a-rockin'
I danced with a gal with a hole in her stocking
And we danced by the light of the moon
Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight
Come out tonight come out tonight
Buffalo gals won't you come out tonight
And we'll dance by the light of the moon
How can I Keep from Singing
My life flows on in endless song
Above earth's lamentation
I hear the real, thought far off hymn
That hails the new creation
Above the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing
It sounds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing?
What through the tempest loudly roars,
I hear the truth, it liveth
What through the darkness round me close
Songs in the night it giveth
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging
Since love is lord of Heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?
When tyrants tremble, sick with fear
And hear their death-knell ringing
When friends rejoice both far and near
How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell and dungeon vile
Our thoughts to them are winging
When friends by shame are undefiled
How can I keep from singing?
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