Marching To Pretoria

This song was popular on both sides of the Boer War. It was originally in the Afrikaans language which is a sub language of Dutch. Pretoria is the administrative capital of South Africa. The Boers were settlers who had moved north to pursue farming and lived in harmony with the English of South Africa until diamonds and gold were discovered in the Boer region. Then there were two wars to commandeer the riches of the north. Eventually the English prevailed.

Just thought this would be a good song for March. 🙂

Lyrics:
[D] I’ll drink with you, you drink with me and
So we will drink together
[A] So we will drink together
[D]So we will drink together
I’ll drink with you, you drink with me and so we will drink together
[A] As we march [D] along.

Chorus:
[G] We are marching to [D] Pretoria, [A] Pretoria, [D] Pretoria
We are [G] marching to [D] Pretoria, [A] Pretoria, [D] Hooorah!

I’ll walk with you you walk with me, , and
So we will walk together
so we will walk together
so we will walk together
I’ll walk with you you walk with me and so we will walk together
As we march along.

Chorus

I’ll sing with you, you sing with me and
So we will sing together
So we will sing together
So we will sing together
I’ll sing with you, you sing with me and So we will sing together
As we march along.

Chorus X 2

Amazing Grace

John Newton, a former slave trader wrote “Amazing Grace” following Christian conversion after a near death experience
during a sea voyage.

Happy New Year 2019!!!

Lyrics:
Amazing Grace, How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now am found
T’was blind but now I see

T’was Grace that taught my heart to fear
And Grace, my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed

Through many dangers, toils and snares
We have already come.
T’was grace that brought us safe thus far
And grace will lead us home,
And grace will lead us home

Amazing grace, Howe Sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found
T’was blind but now I see

Don’t Forget Your Old Shipmate

Lyrics:
Don’t forget yer old shipmate

Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack.
Safe and sound at home again, let the waters roar, Jack.

Chorus
Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Since we sailed from Plymouth Sound, four years gone, or nigh, Jack.
Was there ever chummies, now, such as you and I, Jack?

Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

We have worked the self-same gun, quarterdeck division.
Sponger I and loader you, through the whole commission.

Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

Oftentimes have we laid out, toil nor danger fearing,
Tugging out the flapping sail to the weather earing.

Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

When the middle watch was on, and the time went slow, boy,
Who could choose a rousing stave, who like Jack or Joe, boy?

Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

There she swings, an empty hulk, not a soul below now.
Number seven starboard mess misses Jack and Joe now.

Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main, now we’re safe ashore, Jack.
Don’t forget yer old shipmate, faldee raldee raldee raldee rye-eye-doe!

But the best of friends must part, fair or foul the weather.
Hand yer flipper for a shake, now a drink together.

A Begging I will Go

Lyrics:
A-begging I will go
F Bb F C7
There was a jovial beggar, he had a wooden leg
Dm (Gm) C7 F
Lame from his cradle and forcéd for to beg

Gm C7 F (C7)
And a-begging I will go, I will go,
(Bb) Gm C7 F (C7)
and a-begging I will go.

Of all the trades in England, a-beggin’ is the best
For when a beggar’s tired, You can lay him down to rest.

Got a pocket for me oatmeal, and another for me rye.
Got a bottle by me side to drink when I am dry.

I got patches on me cloak, and black patch on me knee.
When you come to take me home, I’ll drink as well as thee.

I got a pocket for me whiskey another for me gin
If you race me with me crutches, be sure that I will win.

It’s underneath a bridge I live, I pay no rent
Providence provides for me, and I am well content.

I fear no plots against me. I live an open cell.
Who would be a king then when beggar lives so well.

New Words By Roger McGuinn McGuinn Music BMI 2018

The Foggy Foggy Dew

“The Foggy Foggy Dew” is an English folk song describing the outcome of an affair between a weaver and a young lady he courted. Burl Ives made a version of it popular in the 1940s. He spent the night in jail for singing it in Mona, Utah where authorities deemed it a bawdy song.
It is No.558 in the Roud Folk Song Index.
Lyrics:
[G] When I was a [Am] bachelor, I liv’d all alone
[D] I worked at the weaver’s [G] trade
And the only, only thing that [Am] I ever did wrong
[D] Was to woo a fair young [G] maid.
[D] I wooed her in the [G] wintertime
[D] And in the summer, [G] too
And the only, only [Em] thing that I [Am] did that was wrong
Was to [D] keep her from the foggy, foggy [G] dew.

One night she came to my bedside
When I was fast asleep.
She laid her head upon my bed
And she began to weep.
She sighed, she cried, she damn near died
She said what shall I do?
So I hauled her into bed and covered up her head
Just to keep her from the foggy foggy dew.

So, I am a bachelor, I live with my son
And we work at the weaver’s trade.
And every single time that I look into his eyes
He reminds me of that fair young maid.
He reminds me of the wintertime
And of the summer, too,
And of the many, many times that I held her in my arms
Just to keep her from the foggy, foggy, dew.

The Bonnie Banks o’ Loch Lomond

A Favorite Scottish Ballad (Roud No. 9598) based on a Jacobite lament written after the Battle of Culloden following the 1745 uprising.
Lyrics:
Guitar tuned down to D.

[G] By yon bonnie [Em] banks and by [Am] yon bonnie [C] braes,
[G] Where the sun shines [Em] bright on Loch [C] Lomon’. [D]
[Em] where me and my true love [Am] were ever wont to [C] go
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie [Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

Chorus: [G] O ye’ll tak’ the [Em] high road and [Am] I’ll tak the [C] low road,
[G] An’ I’ll be in [Em] Scotland [C] afore [D] ye;
[Em] But me and my true love will [Am] never meet [C] again
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie [Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

[G] ‘Twas there that we [Em] parted in [Am] yon shady [C] glen,
[G] On the steep, steep [Em] side o’ [C] Ben Lomon’, [D]
[Em] Where in purple hue the [Am] Hieland hills we [C] view,
[G] An’ the moon [Em] comin’ out in the [D] gloamin’. [G]

Chorus: [G] O ye’ll tak’ the [Em] high road and [Am] I’ll tak the [C] low road,
[G] An’ I’ll be in [Em] Scotland [C] afore [D] ye;
[Em] But me and my true love will [Am] never meet [C] again
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie [Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

[G] The wee birdies [Em] sing and the [Am] wild flow’rs [C] spring,
[G] And in sunshine the [Em] waters are [C] sleepin’; [D]
[Em] But the broken heart it [Am] kens no second [C] spring,
[G] Tho’ the woeful may [Em] cease from their [D] greetin’ [G]

Chorus: [G] O ye’ll tak’ the [Em] high road and [Am] I’ll tak the [C] low road,
[G] An’ I’ll be in [Em] Scotland [C] afore [D] ye;
[Em] But me and my true love will [Am] never meet [C] again
[G] On the bonnie, bonnie[Em] banks o’ Loch [D] Lomon’. [G]

My Rose In June

Old English Ballad first collected in Dorset England in 1905
Lyrics:
CAPO on 3rd fret
[Em] Was down in the valleys, the [D] valleys so [Em] deep,
To pick some plain roses to keep my [D] love [Em] sweet.
[G] So let it come early, [D] late or [Em] soon,
I will enjoy my [D] rose in [Em] June.
[G] rose in June, [D] rose in [Em] June
I will enjoy my [D] rose in [Em] June.

O, the roses red, the violets blue,
Carnations sweet, love and so are you,
So let it come early, late or soon,
I will enjoy my rose in June.
rose in June, rose in June
I will enjoy my rose in June.

O love, I will carry thy sweet milking pail,
O love, I will kiss you on every stile
So let it come early, late or soon,
I will enjoy my rose in June.
rose in June, rose in June
I will enjoy my rose in June.

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Leaving of Liverpool


Camilla and I will be sailing from Valparaíso, Chile to Buenos Aires this month too. I thought another English sea chantey from the 1860’s was in order. Why, because I love them!

I will be giving lectures on board the Silver Sea Muse. One of those lectures will be about sea chanteys.

Here’s a brief description of the trip from the Silver Sea website:

Voyage to the soaring mountain peaks, and slowly scraping glaciers, of Chile. See poetic Valparaiso sprawling bright colors, colonial architecture and history haphazardly across the hills, before sailing amid the finger-like mountains of the staggering Chilean Fjords. Tour the flicking tail of the continent’s southernmost tip, before dropping in on the Falkland Islands, Uruguay, and Argentina.

Lyrics:

Leaving of Liverpool

[D] Fare thee well to you, my [G] own true love,
[D] I am going far [A] away
[D] I am bound for [G] California,
[D] But I know that I’ll be [A] home some [D] day

[A] So fare thee well, my [D] own true love,
For when I return, united we will [A] be
[D] It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that [G] grieves me,
[D] But my darling when [A] I think of [D] thee

I am bound on a Yankee clipper ship,
Davy Crockett is her name,
And Burgess is the captain of her,
And they say that she is a floating shame

So fare thee well, my own true love,
For when I return, united we will be
It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
But my darling when I think of thee

Oh the sun is high on the harbour, love,
And I wish I could remain,
For I know it’ll be a long, long time,
Before you see me again

So fare thee well, my own true love,
For when I return, united we will be
It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
But my darling when I think of thee

Roll Alabama Roll


Camilla and I will be sailing from Valparaíso, Chile to Buenos Aires this month. I thought an English halyard sea chantey from the 1860’s would be appropriate. I will be giving lectures on board the Silver Sea Muse. One of those lectures will be about sea chanteys.

Here’s a brief description of the trip from the Silver Sea website:

Voyage to the soaring mountain peaks, and slowly scraping glaciers, of Chile. See poetic Valparaiso sprawling bright colors, colonial architecture and history haphazardly across the hills, before sailing amid the finger-like mountains of the staggering Chilean Fjords. Tour the flicking tail of the continent’s southernmost tip, before dropping in on the Falkland Islands, Uruguay, and Argentina.

Lyrics:

[F] When the Alabama’s keel was [C] laid
[C] Roll, [Bb] Alabama, [C] roll!
[F] It was laid in the yards of Jonathan [C] Laird
[Bb] Oh, [F] roll, [C] Alabama, [F] roll!

It was laid in the yards of Jonathan Laird
Roll, Alabama, roll!
It was laid in the town of Birkenhead
Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!

Down Mersey way she sailed and then
Roll, Alabama, roll!
Liverpool fitted her with guns and men
Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!

Down Mersey way she sail-ed forth
Roll, Alabama, roll!
To destroy the commerce of the North
Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!

To Cherbourg harbor she sailed one day
Roll, Alabama, roll!
To collect her share of the prize money
Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!

And many a sailor saw his doom
Roll, Alabama, roll!
When the yankee Kearsarge hove in view
Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!

And a shot from the forward pivot that day
Roll, Alabama, roll!
Blew the Alabama’s stern away

And off the three-mile limit, in sixty-four
Roll, Alabama, roll!
Well she sank to the bottom of the ocean floor
Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!

The Wild Colonial Boy


The Wild Colonial Boy is a traditional Irish song. It’s the story of a young lad who sailed from his home in Castlemaine, County Kerry, Ireland to Australia in the early nineteenth century and became a sort of Robbin Hood “robbing from the rich to feed the poor.” This is an account of his adventure.

Lyrics:

[D] There was a wild [G] colonial boy,
[A7] Jack Duggan was his [D] name
He was born and raised in [Em] Ireland,
in a [A7 place called [D] Castlemaine
He was his father’s [Em] only son,
his [A7] mother’s pride and [D] joy
And dearly did his [G] parents love
the [A7] wild colonial [D] boy

At the early age of sixteen years,
he left his native home
And to Australia’s sunny shore,
he was inclined to roam
He robbed the rich, he helped the poor,
he shot James MacEvoy
A terror to Australia was
the wild colonial boy

One morning on the prairie,
as Jack he rode along
A-listening to the mocking bird,
a-singing a cheerful song
Up stepped a band of troopers:
Kelly, Davis and Fitzroy
They all set out to capture him,
the wild colonial boy

Surrender now, Jack Duggan,
for you see we’re three to one.
Surrender in the King’s high name,
you are a plundering son
Jack drew two pistols from his belt,
he proudly waved them high.
“I’ll fight, but not surrender,”
said the wild colonial boy

He fired a shot at Kelly,
which brought him to the ground
And turning round to Davis,
he received a fatal wound
A bullet pierced his proud young heart,
from the pistol of Fitzroy
And that was how they captured him,
the wild colonial boy