Pastures of Plenty —— Lyrics By Woody Guthrie

Woody Guthrie wrote this song in 1941 to celebrate the migrant workers described in John Steinbeck’s “The Grapes of Wrath.” The tune is taken from the Appalachian murder ballad “Pretty Poly.”

A home recording of Woody Guthrie singing this and other compositions of his was discovered recently and is soon to be released.
Geoff Edgars of the Washington Post wrote a nice article on the subject.

Lyrics:
 
[Dm] It’s a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled a hot dusty road
Out of your Dust Bowl and Westward we rolled
And your deserts were hot and your [C] mountains was [Dm] cold

I worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I slept on the ground in the light of the moon
On the edge of the city you’ll see us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind

California, Arizona, I harvest your crops
Well its North up to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your light sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in the Union us migrants have been
We’ll work in this land and we’ll fight till we win

It’s always we rambled, that river and I
All along your green valley, I will work till I die
My land I’ll defend with my life if it be
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free

Vicar of Bray

This is an 18th century satirical song about a clergyman staying in power no matter who was king.
Here is a detailed annotation of the lyrics:

Lyrics:

[D] In good King [A] Charles’ [D] golden [A] days, [D] when loyalty no [A] harm [D] meant,
[D] A zealous [A] high [D] churchman was [A] I, [D] and so I gained [A] preferment.
[A] To teach my flock, [D] I never missed
[A] Kings are by God [D] appointed
And damned be [A] he who [D] dare [A] resist or touch the Lord’s [A] annointed. [D]

[A] And this be law, I [D] shall maintain
[A] Until my dying [D] day, sir
That [D] what – [A]soever [D] king may [A] reign,
[D] Still I’ll be the Vicar of [A] Bray, [D] sir.

When royal James usurped the throne, and popery came in fashion,
The penal laws I hooted down, and read the Declaration.
The Church of Rome, I found, did fit
Full well my constitution
And I’d have been a Jesuit, but for the Revolution.

cho:

When William was our King declared, to ease the nation’s grievance,
With this new wind about I steered, and swore to him allegiance.
Old principles I did revoke
Set conscience at a distance,
Passive obedience was a joke, a jest was non-resistance.

cho:

When Royal Anne became our queen, the Church of England’s glory,
Another face of things was seen, and I became a Tory.
Occasional conformists base
I blamed their moderation;
And thought the Church in danger was from such prevarication.

cho:

When George in pudding time came o’er, and moderate men looked big, sir
My principles I changed once more, and I became a Whig, sir.
And thus preferment I procured
From our new Faith’s Defender,
And almost every day abjured the Pope and the Pretender.

cho:

The illustrious house of Hanover and Protestant succession
To these I do allegiance swear — while they can hold possession.
For in my faith and loyalty
I never more will falter,
And George my lawful king shall be — until the times do alter.

cho:

The Star of County Down

This lovely Irish song was written in the 1800s by Cathal MacGarvey from Ramelton, County Donegal. The tune is traditional and has been used in “Dives and Lazarus” as well as “My Love Nell” and the hymn, “I Heard The Voice of Jesus.”

Lyrics:

[Gm] Near Banbridge Town in the County Down
One morning last July,
From a boreen green came a sweet colleen
And she smiled as she passed me by.
She looked so sweet from her two bare feet
From the sheen of her nut brown hair.
Such a winsome elf, sure I shook myself
For to see I was really there.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay and
From Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I’ve seen like the fair colleen
That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped, sure I scratched my head,
Then I looked with a feeling rare,
And I says, says I, to a passer-by,
“Who’s the maid with the nut brown hair?”
He looked at me and he says, to me,
“That’s the gem of the Ireland’s crown.
Young Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann,
She’s the star of the County Down”.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay and
From Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I’ve seen like the fair colleen
That I met in the County Down.

At the harvest fair and she’ll be there
So I’ll dress in my Sunday clothes,
With my shoes shone bright and my hat cocked right
with a smile for a nut brown rose.
No pipe I’ll smoke, no horse I’ll yoke
‘Til my plough is rusty brown.
‘Til a smiling bride, by me own bedside
Sits the star of the County Down.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay and
From Galway to Dublin Town,
No maid I’ve seen like the fair colleen
That I met in the County Down.

Blow The Candle Out

“Blow The Candle Out” is an old English sailors song (though not necessarily a sea chantey) dating from 1724 or earlier and also known and sung in Ireland, Scotland, and the U.S.

In this version a young man is about to enter military service for three years, a tragic development in view of his recent marriage to his true love. He promises to resume their love life when he returns, hoping to find a two-year-old son or daughter.

Lyrics:

[Em] Late last Saturday [D] evening
I went to see my [Em] dear
[Em] The candles were all [D] burning
And the moon shown bright and [Em] clear
[G] I rapped upon her [D] window
[Bb] To ease her of her [A7] pain
[Em] She rose and let me [D] in and
Barred the door [Em] again

I like well your behaviour
And this I often say
I cannot rest contented
While you are far away
The roads they are so muddy
I cannot roam about
So roll me in your arms, love
And blow the candle out

Your father and your mother
In yonder room do lie
Hugging one another
So why not you and I
Hugging one another
Without a fear or doubt
So roll me in your arms love
And blow the candle out

And if we prove successful, love
Please name it after me
Hug it neat and kiss it sweet
And dap it on your knee
When my three years are ended
And my time’s run out
Then I will prove my indebtedness
By blowing the candle out

Scottish Reel

It is the Spring in the Northern Hemisphere and time for a Scottish Reel to dance in the refreshing season filled with birds, flowers and love. A wee bit of a dram might make it all the more delightful.

My wife Camilla suggested that the Rickenbacker 12-string with electronic compression sounds like a bagpipe and indeed it does!
Happy Spring!

Lyrics:

Instrumental Music

John Peel

I learned this song in glee club at the Latin School of Chicago in the mid 1950s. The verses are a bit bloody so I left them out. If you really want them click on “Lyrics” Lyrics:

[D] Do you ken John Peel at the break of day
[A7] Do you ken John Peel with his coat so grey
[D] Do you ken John Peel when he’s [G] far far [D] away
Or the fox in his [A7] lair in the [D] morning




May Morris Dance

There are more songs written about the month of May than there are about Christmas. This comes from the 17th century as a celebration of Spring. It is also a Morris Dance. The origin of Morris Dance is unclear but many think it comes from the Middle East. Lyrics:

[Dm] Come ye young men, come along,
With your music and [A] your [Dm] song.
Bring your lasses in your hands
For ’tis that which [A] love [Dm] commands.

[F] Then to the maypole haste away
[C] For ’tis now our [F] holiday

‘Tis the choice time of the year
For the violets [C] now appear.
Now the rose receives its birth
And the pretty primrose decks the earth.

And when you well reckoned have
What kisses you your sweethearts gave,
Take them all again and more,
It will never make them poor.

When you thus have spent your time
Till the day be past its prime
To your beds repair at night
And dream there of your day’s delight.


Bold Archer

Known in Scotland as “Archie O’ Cawfield” this song tells the story of an outlaw who is aided in escaping prison in the late 1700s and has a very happy ending! It has been well documented: [ Roud 83 ; Child 188 ; G/D 2:244 ; Ballad Index C188 ; Bodleian Roud 83 ; Mudcat 9037 ; trad.]

Lyrics:
[D] It was in the chil-ly month of March
[G] Just as the flowers grew under the arch,
[G] A castle was built upon Kensal Green
[D] All for to put Bold Archer in.

Now our brother in prison do lay
Con-demned to die is he
If I had e-leven such brothers this day
It is Bold Archer I’d set free.

Eleven, says Richard, is not enough
Full forty brave la-ds there must be;
The chain and the bars will have to be broke
Before Bold Archer – you can set free.

Ten for to stand by our horses’ reins
And ten for to guard us round about,
And ten for to stand by the cas-tle door
And ten for to bring Bold Archer out.

Now Dickie broke locks and Dickie broke bars
Dickie broke every-thing he could see
He took Bold Archer under his arm
And carried him off most manfully.

They mounted their horses, away they did ride
Archie, he mounted his horse likewise.
They rode till they came to their fa-mily
And there they dismoun-ted bold and free.

And th-ere they ordered the music to play
It played so sweet and joy-fully
The very first dancer of that day
It was Bold Archer, whom they’d set free.

Billy Boy

The terms “Hillbilly” and “Red Neck” both originated during the Battle of the Boyne. England’s Dutch born King William III was known to his Protestant Irish followers as “Billy Boy” and his followers were called “Hill billys” and “Red Necks.”

There’s a bit of irony in the last verse where Billy Boy is asked about the age of his fiancée. He states that she is “Three times six and four times seven, twenty-eight and eleven,” which adds up to 85, hardly a young thing!

Lyrics:
[D] Oh, where have you been, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Oh, where have you been, charming [A7] Billy?
I have been to seek a wife, she’s the [D] joy of my life,
She’s a young thing and [A7] cannot leave her [D] mother.

Did she ask you to come in, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Did she ask you to come in, charming Billy?
Yes, she asked me to come in, there’s a dimple in her chin.
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.

Did she set for you a chair, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
did she set for you a chair,Charming Billy.
Yes, she set for me a chair, there are ringlets in her hair,
she’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.

Can she make a cherry pie, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
Can she make a cherry pie, charming Billy?
She can make a cherry pie, quick as a cat can wink an eye,
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.

How old is she, Billy Boy, Billy Boy,
How old is she, charming Billy?
Three times six and four times seven, twenty-eight and eleven,
She’s a young thing and cannot leave her mother.