Shenandoah

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This was a sea chantey, used with the windlass, and the capstan.The lead man would sing the first and third lines of each verse and the crew would sing on the second and fourth lines, as they did their work, with winches for loading cargo, raising sails, pulling up anchors, and other jobs on deck.

Some believe the song originated among the early American river men, or Canadian voyageurs. Others believe it was a land song before it went to sea. Most agree that it incorporates both Irish and African-American elements.

Shenandoah was tremendously popular both on land and sea and was known by countless names, including: Shennydore, The Wide Missouri, The Wild Mizzourye, The World Of Misery-Solid Fas (a West Indian rowing shanty that may be older than other versions), The Oceanida, and Rolling River.

Two verses of the song were published in an article by W. J. Alden in Harper's Magazine (1882). A version of Solid Fa's was collected by R. Abrams in England in 1909. The shanty is said to date at least to the 1820s.

Shenandoah was an Indian chief living on the Missouri River.

Thanks to Lesley Nelson for this information. http://www.contemplator.com/folk.html

Lyrics:
[E] Oh Shenandoah, I love your daughter
[A] Way-aye, you rolling [E] river
I'll [C#m] take her 'cross yon rolling [E] water
[E] A way – we're bound away
'cross the [B7] wide [E] Missouri!

The Chief disdained the trader's dollars,
Way-aye, you rolling river
My daughter you shall never follow
A way – we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

For seven years I courted Sally,
Way-aye, you rolling river
For seven more I longed to have her
A way – we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

She said she would not be my lover
Way-aye, you rolling river
Because I was a tarry sailor
A way – we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

At last there came a Yankee skipper
Way-aye, you rolling river
He winked his eye, and he tipped his flipper
A way – we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

He sold the Chief that fire-water
Way-aye, you rolling river
And 'cross the river he stole his daughter
A way – we're bound away
'cross the wide Missouri!

Oh Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Way-aye, you rolling river
I'll take her 'cross yon rolling water
A way – we're bound away
'cross the wide Missour

He's Got The Whole World In His Hands

In these troubled times it’s reassuring to know that, He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands.
Lyrics:
He’s got the [G] whole world in His hands

He’s got the [D7} whole world in His hands

He’s got the [G] whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world [D7] in His [G] hands

He’s got the wind and the rain in His hands

He’s got the wind and the rain in His hands

He’s got the wind and the rain in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the Little Bitty Baby in His hands

He’s got the Little Bitty Baby in His hands

He’s got the Little Bitty Baby in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got you and me brother in His hands

He’s got you and me sister in His hands

He’s got you and me brother in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the earth and the sky in His hands

He’s got the earth and the sky in His hands

He’s got the earth and the sky in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the young and the old in His hands

He’s got the young and the old in His hands

He’s got the young and the old in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the rich and poor in His hands

He’s got the rich and poor in His hands

He’s got the rich and poor in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got everybody in His hands

He’s got everybody in His hands

He’s got everybody in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

He’s got the whole world in His hands

12 Gates To The City

This is an old southern spiritual, inspired by the Bible’s Revelation chapter 21.

Revelation 21 – King James Version ( Public Domain)

Lyrics:
[Em] Oh, what a beautiful city.
[B7] Oh, what a beautiful city
[Em] Oh, what a beautiful city
[Em] Twelve gates to the city, [B7] – [[Em] Hallelujah

Three gates in the east,
Three gates in the west,
Three gates in the north
Three gates in the south
[Em] Twelve gates to the city, [B7] – [[Em] Hallelujah

Who are those children dressed in red?
There’s twelve gates to the city, Hallelujah
Must be the children that Moses led
There’s twelve gates to the city, Hallelujah

My Jesus done just what He said
There’s twelve gates to the city, Hallelujah
He healed the sick and He raised the dead.
There’s twelve gates to the city, Hallelujah

Pretty Saro

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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.

I Am A Pilgram

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This is an old spiritual, sung by numerous country artists. It has a good melody and is a good picking song. I thought of it in conjunction with Thanksgiving, as it was the Pilgrims who started it all. Happy Thanksgiving 2002!
Lyrics:
[G] I am a [D] pilgrim an’ a [G] strangerTraveling [C] through this wearsome [G] land

I’ve got a home, in yonder [C] city good Lord [C7],

[G] And it’s not not [D] made by [G] hand

I’ve got a mother, sister and a brother
Who have been this way before
I am determined to go and see them, good Lord
Over on that other shore

I going down to the river of Jordan
Just to bathe my wearsome soul
If I can just touch the hem of his garmet, good Lord
Then I know he’d take me home

I am a pilgrim and a stranger
Travelling through this wearsome land
I’ve got a home in that yonder city, good Lord
And it’s not not made by hand

Wildwood Flower

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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

All My Trials

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Though this song has Bahamian origins, it is usually classified as a Spiritual. A mother is comforting her child on her deathbed.

This is dedicated to the memory of Paul Lowman.

Lyrics:
[D] Hush little baby don't you cry [D7]

[D[ You know your mama's bound to [G] die

[D] All my [A7] trials Lord

Will soon be [D] over

If religion was a thing that money could buy

The rich would live and the poor would die

All my trials Lord

Soon be over

Too late my brothers

Too late, but never mind

All my trials Lord

Soon be over

There is a tree in Paradise

The Pilgrims call it the tree of life

All my trials Lord

Soon be over

If religion was a thing that money could buy

The rich would live and the poor would die

All my trials Lord

Soon be over

Hush little baby don't you cry

You know your mama’s bound to die

All my trials Lord

Soon be over

The Riddle Song

I wonder if this song from the 17th Century inspired the following poem by Walt Whitman?

A Riddle Song
By Walt Whitman
1819-1892

That which eludes this verse and any verse,
Unheard by sharpest ear, unform’d in clearest eye or cunningest mind,
Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness nor wealth,
And yet the pulse of every heart and life throughout the world incessantly,
Which you and I and all pursuing ever ever miss,
Open but still a secret, the real of the real, an illusion,
Costless, vouchsafed to each, yet never man the owner,
Which poets vainly seek to put in rhyme, historians in prose,
Which sculptor never chisel’d yet, nor painter painted,
Which vocalist never sung, nor orator nor actor ever utter’d,
Invoking here and now I challenge for my song.

Indifferently, ‘mid public, private haunts, in solitude,
Behind the mountain and the wood,
Companion of the city’s busiest streets, through the assemblage,
It and its radiations constantly glide.

In looks of fair unconscious babes,
Or strangely in the coffin’d dead,
Or show of breaking dawn or stars by night,
As some dissolving delicate film of dreams,
Hiding yet lingering.

Two little breaths of words comprising it,
Two words, yet all from first to last comprised in it.

How ardently for it!
How many ships have sail’d and sunk for it!

How many travelers started from their homes and neer return’d!
How much of genius boldly staked and lost for it!
What countless stores of beauty, love, ventur’d for it!
How all superbest deeds since Time began are traceable to it–and
shall be to the end!
How all heroic martyrdoms to it!
How, justified by it, the horrors, evils, battles of the earth!
How the bright fascinating lambent flames of it, in every age and
land, have drawn men’s eyes,
Rich as a sunset on the Norway coast, the sky, the islands, and the cliffs,
Or midnight’s silent glowing northern lights unreachable.

Haply God’s riddle it, so vague and yet so certain,
The soul for it, and all the visible universe for it,
And heaven at last for it.

Lyrics:
The Riddle Song

[G] I gave my love a [C] cherry that has no [G] stone,
I [D] gave my love a [G] chicken that has no [D] bone,
I gave my love a [G] ring that has no [D] end,
I [C] gave my love a [Am] baby with [C] no [G] crying.

How can there be a cherry that has no stone?
How can there be a chicken that has no bone?
How can there be a ring that has no end?
How can there be a baby with no crying?

A cherry, when it’s blooming, it has no stone,
A chicken when it’s pipping, it has no bone,
A ring when it’s rolling, it has no end,
A baby when it’s sleeping, has no crying.

Traditional

Makes A Long Time Man Feel Bad

When I worked for Bobby Darin in 1962, he and I used to do this song. I would play my 12-string guitar doing this rather fast lick and Bobby always wanted it a little faster. Twin spotlights lit the center of the stage. Bobby was on the mic to my left. We performed this as a folk duo with me singing the high harmony.
Lyrics:
Dm C Dm

Makes a long time man feel bad

Dm C Dm

Makes a long time man feel bad

Dm C G F

Can’t get no letters, can’t even roam

Dm C Dm

Makes a long time man feel bad

Alberta let your hair grow long

Alberta let your hair grow long

Let it grow on down till it reaches the ground

Alberta let your hair grow long

I’d walk five hundred miles

I’d walk five hundred miles

I’d walk five hundred miles good Lord

If they’d let me go on home

Well sure my mama must be gone

Well sure my mama must be gone

Well sure my mama must be gone good Lord

Makes a long time man feel bad

Makes a long time man feel bad good Lord

Makes a long time man feel bad

© 2000 McGuinn Music / Roger McGuinn

Cumberland Mountain Bear Chase

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In the late 60's Peter Fonda would call me up and say, 'Jim, would you come over with your banjo, Justin wants to hear that song about Old Blue again.' I'd drive over the hill to Peter's house and jam a little, and play this song for his son.
Lyrics:
Well once upon a time there was a little boy.
And he wanted to go hunting with his pop and the
hound dogs. He said, 'Dad, can I go hunting with
you and the hound dogs?' Father said, 'No, son
I'm sorry but your legs are much too short. You
could never keep up with us. Awe the little boy
pleaded with his father, he said, 'Oh please dad,
can I go hunting with you and the hound dogs?'
'I'm sorry son, you're just too small to go with us.'
Well the little boy kept on pleading. He said, 'What
if I brought Old Blue along? That way if I got lost he
could come and find me.' Well his father thought about
it for a second, he said, 'OK son, you bring Old Blue,
then you can come along.' So they were off! Over
the hills and down through the meadow. Little boy
was keeping up pretty well too! And Old Blue was right
out there in front. Oh they started to get a little further away,
but the little boy wasn't worried, cause he had Old Blue with
him. And they got a little further away. Finally they were
so far off there that he could hardly hear 'em anymore.
So he pulled out his horn and called for Old Blue.
'Old Blue, where are you?'
But all he could hear were the
crickets, and an old bullfrog in the pond.
He tried one more time.
'Old Blue, where are you?'
Just the crickets, and the bullfrog.
It was getting cold outside now, he
wasn't sure what he was going to do, he tried one more time.

'Old Blue, where are you?'
And he thought he heard somethingway off in the distance. He wasn't sure what it was,
But it was Old Blue, and here they come!
Way away we're bound for the mountain
Bound for the mountain
Bound for the mountain
Over the hills the field and fountain
Today we chase away
Rover Rover see 'em see 'em
Rover Rover catch 'em catch 'em
Way away we're bound for the mountain
Today we chase away