Archive for the 'Love' Category



Gypsey Rover


h1 Tuesday, May 4th, 2004

This is one of the great songs I performed night after night with the Chad Mitchell Trio back in the early 60s. It's a sweet love song for May.
Lyrics:
[A] Gypsy [E7] rover, come [A] over the [E7] hill, [A] down through the valley so [E7] shady
He [A] whistled and he [E7] sang til the [A] green woods [F#m] rang and [A] he won the [D]heart of a [A] lady [E7]

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day, ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

She left her fathers castle gate, she left her own fine lover
She left her servants and her state, to follow the gypsy rover

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day, ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

Her father saddled up his fastest stead, roamed the valleys all over
Sought his daughter at great speed and the whistling gypsy rover

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day, ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

He came at last to a mansion fine, down by the river Clady
And there was music and there was wine, for the gypsy and his lady

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day, ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

He is no gypsy, my father, she said, but lord of these lands all over
And I will stay til my dying day, with my whistling gypsy rover

Ah dee doo ah dee doo da day, ah dee doo ah dee day dee
He whistled and he sang til the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady

Silver Dagger


h1 Wednesday, February 11th, 2004

Dagger.jpg

Silver Dagger is a song I first heard in the early 60s on a Joan Baez album. I loved the beautiful melody and the way Joan sang and played it. This was a ladies song. I always wished I could sing it, but I minded doing songs of the opposite gender, so I changed the gender of the song with a few words.
Lyrics:
Silver Dagger

I won't [A] sing love songs, I'll wake your [D] mother

She's sleeping [A] there, right by your [Bm] side

And in her [G] right hand is a sliver [Em] dagger

She says that [G] you can never be my [A] bride

All men are false, so says your mother

They tell you wicked, loving lies

The very next evening, they'll court another

Leave you alone to pine and sigh

Your daddy is a handsome wrangler

He's got a chain five miles long

From every link a heart does dangle

Of some fair maid he's loved and wronged

I'll court another tender maiden

And hope that she will be my wife

For you've been warned and you've decided

To sleep alone all of your life

(C) 2004 MCGUINN MUSIC / Roger McGuinn

The Gallows Pole


h1 Thursday, January 8th, 2004

noose.gif

Some of you may think this song was written by Lead Belly, or Led Zeppelin, or is the name of a now defunct German band, but it's really a traditional American song that may date back to the 18th Century. A case of true love being stronger than blood.
Lyrics:
Oh [Gm] hangman hangman [F] slack your rope, [Eb] slack it for a [F] while

I [Gm] think I see my [F] father coming, [Eb] riding many a [F] mile

Oh [Gm] Father did you bring me [F] silver, [Eb] did you bring me [F] gold

Or [Gm] did you come for to [F] see me hang, [Eb] hang from the gallows [F] pole?

[Gm] Hang from the [F] gallows [Gm] pole

No, I [Gm] didn't bring you [F] silver, I [Eb] didn't bring you [F] gold

And [Gm] I have come for to [F] see you hang, [Eb] hang from the gallows [D7] pole

[Gm] Hang from the [F] gallows [Gm] pole

Oh hangman hangman slack your rope, slack it for a while

I think I see my mother coming, riding many a mile

Oh Mother did you bring me silver, Mother did you bring me gold

Or did you come to see me hang, hang from the gallows pole?

Hang from the gallows pole

No, I didn't bring you silver, I didn't bring you gold

And I have come for to see you hang, hang from the gallows pole

Hang from the gallows pole

Oh hangman hangman slack your rope, slack it for a while

I think I see my brother coming, riding many a mile

Oh Brother did you bring me silver, Brother did you bring me gold

Or did you come for to see me hang, hang from the gallows pole?

Hang from the gallows pole

No, I didn't bring you silver, I didn't bring you gold

And I have come for to see you hang, hang from the gallows pole

Hang from the gallows pole

Oh hangman hangman slack your rope, slack it for a while

I think I see my true love coming, riding many a mile

True love did you bring me silver, true love did you bring me gold

Or did you come for to see me hang, hang from the gallows pole?

Hang from the gallows pole

Yes, I have brought you silver, and I have brought you gold

I did no t come for to see you hang, hang from the gallows pole

Hang from the gallows pole

Banks of Ohio


h1 Wednesday, October 1st, 2003

Water.jpg

Camilla and I were just in Ohio doing a concert for the Columbus Cancer Clinic. When We got home it was time to record another song for the Folk Den, and this one came to mind. This is a sad traditional song about a young man, so enraged by his lover's rejection of his marriage proposal that he resorts to murder.
Lyrics:
[G] I asked my love to take a [D] walk,
Just to walk a [G] little way.
And we did walk,
And we did [C] talk
All [G] about our [D] wedding [G] day.

CHORUS:
'Then only, [G] say that you'll be [D] mine;
And in no other's arms [G] entwine,
Down [G7] beside where the waters [C] flow,
Down by the [G] banks of the [D] Ohio [G].'

I took her by her lily white hand,
I led her down the banks of sand,
I plunged her in
Where she would drown,
And watched her as she floated down.

CHORUS:

Returnin' home between twelve and one,
Thinkin', Lord, what have I done;
I'd killed the girl
I love, you see,
Because she would not marry me.

CHORUS:

Wild Mountain Thyme


h1 Tuesday, April 1st, 2003

Wild.jpg

Back in Greenwich Village, in 1963, I experimented by putting this song to a rock beat. The result was the folk rock sound of the Byrds. Now, I thought it would be fun to try this traditional Scottish love song. with a reggae beat.
Lyrics:
[G] O the summer time is coming
And the [C] trees are sweetly [G] turning
And [C] wild mountain [Am] thyme
Blooms [C] around the purple heather
Will ye [G] go, [C] lassie, [G] go?

If you will not go with me
I will surely find another
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather
Will you go lassie go?

Chorus:
And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather
Will ye go, lassie, go?

I will build my love a bower
By yon clear and crystal fountain
And on it I will place
All the flowers of the mountain
Will ye go, lassie, go?

Chorus:
And we'll all go together
To pull wild mountain thyme
All around the purple heather
Will ye go, lassie, go?

Pretty Saro


h1 Saturday, March 1st, 2003

Saro.jpg

This song was collected in the Asheville area of North Carolina and the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia around 1930 by Dorothy Scarborough. She included it in her book 'A Song Catcher in Southern Mountains, American Folk Songs of British Ancestry.' This is an excerpt from her text:

'Mrs. Stikeleather also sang it (Pretty Saro) into my dictaphone and contributed it to this collection. She told me that while the date 'eighteen forty-nine' is used in some of the versions of the song, 'seventeen forty-nine' is more probably correct, as that year witnessed considerable immigration to North Carolina from Ireland, and Scotland, and this old English song was no doubt adapted to its new setting at that time.' Scarborough later says that the use of the phrase 'free-holder' indicates the song is of British origin.

Lyrics:
[A] When I first come to this [E] country in [A] seventeen-forty-nine,

I saw many fair [E] lovers, but never saw [E] mine.

I looked all [A] around me, and found I was [E] alone.

Me a poor [D] stranger, and a long way from [E] home.

Down in some lonesome valley, down in some lonesome place,

Where the wild birds do whistle their notes to increase,

I think of pretty Saro whose waist is so neat

And I know of no better pastime than to be with my sweet.

My love she won't have me, so I understand

She wants a free-holder, who owns house and land.

I cannot maintain her with silver and gold,

Nor buy all the fine things that a big house can hold.

I wish I was a poet and could write a fine hand.

I would send my love a letter that she could understand.

And I'd send it by a messenger where the waters do flow.

And think of pretty Saro wherever I go.

When I first come to this country in seventeen-forty-nine,

I saw many fair lovers, but never saw mine.

I looked all around me, and found I was alone.

Me a poor stranger, and a long way from home.

Wildwood Flower


h1 Tuesday, October 1st, 2002

Wildwood.jpg

This is a nineteenth-century North American parlor song that has gone into the public domain. There are many variants, some quite amusing when compared to this version. For instance the line:

I will dance I will sing and my life shall be gay

I will charm every heart in the crowd I survey has been changed to:

Oh, I'll dance, I will sing and my laugh shall be gay

I will charm ev'ry heart, in his crown I will sway

Clearly a misunderstood line, passed along by the oral tradition. This is a fine example of the folk process.

This song was written by Maud and J.P. Weber, and popularized by the Carter Family. Another great Guitar picking song. This is the first song I've recorded with my new Martin HD28V that Dick Boak at Martin Guitars helped me pick out at the factory.

Lyrics:
[D] I will twine with my mingles of [A] raven [D] black hair

With the roses so red and the [A] lilies [D] so fair

The myrtle so bright in its [G] emerald [D] hue

And the pale amaryllis and [A] violets so [D] blue

Oh he promised to love me and promised to love

And cherish me over all others above

I woke from my dream and my idol was clay

And my portion of loving had all passed away

I will dance I will sing and my life shall be gay

I will charm every heart in the crowd I survey

Though my heart now is breaking he shall never know

How his name makes me tremble my pale cheeks to glow

Oh he taught me to love him and called me his flower

A blossom to cheer him through life’s weary hour

But now he is gone and left me alone

With the wild flowers to weep and the wild birds to moan

Yes I’ll dance and I’ll sing and my life shall be gay

I will banish this weeping, drive troubles away

I’ll live yet to see him regret that dark hour

When he won and neglected his frail wildwood flower

Delia's Gone


h1 Thursday, August 1st, 2002

This was originally an American Honky-tonk song but has returned to the United States by way of the Bahama Islands.
Lyrics:
[D] Tony shot his [G] Delia
[D]'Ton a Saturday [D7] night
[G] The fist time he shot her [Em] Lord
[A] She bowed her head and [D] died

[A] Delia's gone, one more round, [D] Delia's gone
[A] Delia's gone, one more round, [D] Delia's gone

Called for the doctor
The doctor came too late
Called for the Minister
Take Delia to her fate

Well they took my Delia
Dressed her all in Brown
Took her to the graveyard
And then they laid her down

Delia oh Delia
Where you been so long
Everybody's talking about
My Delia's dead and gone

Tarrytown


h1 Saturday, June 1st, 2002

Tarrytown.jpeg

In the summer of 1959, Marsha, Dick and I formed a trio. We called ourselves 'The Old Town Singers.' The name came from the Old Town School of Folk Music, where we had met. We rehearsed for weeks, but to my recollection, never did a paying gig. When the Limeliters hired me to accompany them on their RCA live LP in 1960, I left Chicago, and lived on the road for the next few years. It's interesting to think what might have happened if I'd stayed in Chicago and continued to perform with 'The Old Town Singers.' We formed about two years before Peter Paul and Mary. This is a practice recording made on a reel to reel Pentron tape recorder at 7 1/2 IPS. The tape was broken in two places and spliced, causing the slight jumps in audio quality.
Lyrics:
In [E] Tarry- [B7] town there did [E] dwell

A handsome [A] youth I knew so [B7] well

He courted [E] me my life [A] away,

And [B7] now with me he will no longer [E] stay

Wide and [B7] deep my grave will [E] be

With the [B7] wild goose grasses growing over [E] me

Wide and [B7] deep my grave will [E] be

With the [B7] wild goose grasses growing over [E] me

Oh once I wore my apron low

He’s follow me through ice and snow

Now that I wear my apron high

You walk right down the street and pass me by

Wide and deep my grave will be

With the wild goose grasses growing over me

Wide and deep my grave will be

With the wild goose grasses growing over me

There is an inn in Tarrytown

Where my love goes and sits him down

He takes another on his knee

For she has golden lashes more than me

Wide and deep my grave will be

With the wild goose grasses growing over me

Wide and deep my grave will be

With the wild goose grasses growing over me

Spanish is the Loving Tongue


h1 Thursday, February 14th, 2002

Lyrics:
[E] Spanish is the [A] loving [E] tongue

Soft as music, [F#m] light as [B7]spray

'Twas a [E]girl I [A] learned it [E] from

Living down [B7] Sonora [E] way

[A] I don't [G#m] look much [A] like a [E] lover

Still I hear those [F#m] love words [B7] over

[E] Mostly when I'm [A] all [E] alone!

Mi amor, Mi [B7] cora – [E]z�n

On the nights that I would ride
She would listen for my spurs,
Throw that big door open wide,
Raise those laughing eyes of hers.

Oh, how the hours would go a-flyin!
All too soon I'd hear her sighin'
In her sweet and quiet tone
'Mi amor, mi corazon.'

But I had to fly one time
All 'cause of a stupid gamblin' fight,
And so we said a swift goodbye
On that dark, unlucky night.

How oftentimes to me she's clingin'
And in my ears the hoofsbeats ringin',
As I galloped north alone
'Adios, mi corazon.'

Haven't seen her since that night,
I can't cross the line, you know.
She was Mex and I was white;
Like as not it's better so.

Still I've always kind of missed her
Since that last wild night I kissed her;
I broke her heart, lost my own
'Adios, mi corazon.'