The Cruel War

Lyrics:
[G] The cruel war is [Em] raging,
[Am] Johnny has to [G] fight I [C] long to be [Am]
with him, from [C] morning till [G] night

I want to be [Em] with him, it [Am]
grieves my heart [G] so Won’t you
[C] let me come [Am] with you?
[C] No, my love [G] no

Tomorrow is Sunday, Monday is the day
That your captain will call you and you must obey
Your captain will call you, it grieves my heart so
Won�t you let me come with you?
No, my love no
I’ll tie back my hair, men’s
clothing I’ll put on

I’ll pass for your comrade as we march along
I’ll pass for your comrade, no one will ever know
Won’t you let me come with you?
No, my love no

Oh Johnny,
oh Johnny, I feel you are unkind
I love you far better than all of mankind
I love you far better than words
can e�er express
Won’t you let me come with you?
Yes, my love yes

They marched into battle, she never left his side
‘Til a bullet shell struck her and love was denied
A bullet shell struck her, tears came to Johnny’s eyes
As he knelt down beside her, she silently died

Star Spangled Banner

One of the hardest songs in the world to sing!
Lyrics:
[C] Oh say can you see by the dawn’s early [G] light
What so [C] proudly we [G] hailed at the [F] twilight’s last [C] gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous [G] fight
O’er the [C] ramparts we [G] watched were so [F] gallantly [C] streaming

And the rockets’ red [Am] glare the bombs [G] bursting in air
Gave [C] proof through the [G] night that our [F] flag was still [G] there
O [C] say does that [F] star – spangled [Dm] banner yet [C]wa- [G]ve
O’er the [C] land of the free and the home [G] of the [C] brave

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes
What is that which the breeze o’er the towering steep
As it fitfully blows now conceals, now discloses

Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam
N’ full glory reflected now shines on the stream
‘Tis the star spangled banner O long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wiped out their foul footstep’s pollution

No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave
And the star spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave

Willie Moore

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Drone in G, and play melody Video version HERE.
Lyrics:
Willie Moore was a King, his age twenty-one
Courted a maiden fair;
Her eyes were like two diamonds bright
Raven black was her hair, hmmm hmmm hmmm…
He courted her both day and night,
To marry him she did agree,
But when they went to get her parents' consent,
They said, 'This could never be,' hmmm, hmmm, hmmm…
'I love Willie Moore,' sweet Annie replied,
'Better than I love my life,
And l would rather die than weep here and cry,
Never to be his wife,' hmmm, hmmm, hmmm…
That very same night sweet Anne disappeared,
They searched the country 'round
In a little stream down by the cabin door,
The body of sweet Annie was found' hmmm, hmmm, hmm
Sweet Annie's parents they live all alone,
One mourns, the other cries,
In a little grave down by the cabin door
The body of sweet Annie now lies.
Willie Moore scarce spoke that anyone knew,
Soon from his friends did part;
And the last heard of him was he's on Montreal
Where he died of a broken heart.

Kilgary Mountain

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I first heard this song sung by Bob Gibson in the late 50’s. In 1961 I recorded it with the Chad Mitchell Trio. In April 2000, I recorded it again with Tommy Makem for my forthcoming CD ‘Roger McGuinn – Treasures from the Folk Den’ which will be released on Appleseed Recordings in the spring of 2001. This CD will contain duets featuring Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, Tommy Makem, Jean Ritchie, Odetta, Judy Collins and many more wonderful folk artists, singing the best songs from the Folk Den with me.
Lyrics:
D Bm
As I was a-walkin’ over Kilgary Mountain

G D

I met with Capt. Pepper and his money he was countin’

D Bm

I rattled my pistols and I drew forth my saber

G D

Sayin’, ‘Stand and deliver, for I am the bold deceiver’

A

Musha rig um du rum da

D
Whack fol the daddy o

G
Whack fol the daddy o

D A D
There’s whiskey in the jar

I counted out his money, and it made a pretty penny

I put it in my pocket for to take it home to Jenny

She promised and she vowed she never would deceive me

But the devil’s in the women and they always lie so easy

When I was awakened between six and seven

The guards all around me in numbers odd and even

I flew to my pistols, but alas I was mistaken

For Jenny’s drawn my pistols and a prisoner I was taken

They put me into prison without judge or writin’

For robbing Capt. Pepper on Kilgary Mountain

But they didn’t take my fists so I knocked the sentry down

And bid a fond farewell to the jail in Limric town

I wish I’d find my brother, the one that’s in the army

I don’t know where he’s stationed, in Cork or in Kelarny

Together we’d go ramblin o’er the mountains of Kilkenny

I know he’s treat me better than my darlin’ sportin’ Jenny

Now some take delight in fishin’ and a-bowlin’

And others take delight in carriages a-rollin’

But I take delight in the juice of the barley

And courtin’ pretty maidens in the morning oh so early

Lilly of the West

I don’t know the origin of this song, but it has the same basic tune as The Buffalo Skinners. It’s a sad tale of betrayal and a crime of passion. In France, I’m told they have different penalties for such crimes. The photo is of a Bulgarian Bluegrass musician who’s named her latest CD after the title of this song. Click her picture to learn more.
Lyrics:
Am C G
When first I came to Louisville
F Am
Some pleasure there to find
C F G
A damsel there from Lexington
Am
Was pleasin’ to my mind
Am C G
Her ruby lips her rosy cheeks
Am
Like arrows pierced my breast
Am C G
The name she bore was Flora
F Am
The Lilly of the West

I courted lovely Flora
Some pleasure there to find
But she turned onto another man
Which sore distressed my mind

She stole away my liberty
Deprived me of my rest
Then go my lovely Flora
The Lilly of the West

Way down in yonder shady grove
A man of low degree
Conversin’ with my Flora there
It seemed so strange to me

The answer that she gave to him
It sore did me oppress
I was betrayed by Flora
The Lilly of the West

I stepped up to my rival
My dagger in my hand
I seized him by the collar
And I boldly bade him stand

Be mad to desperation
I pierced him in his breast
Then go my lovely Flora
The Lilly of the West

And then I had to stand my trial
I had to make my plea
They put me in the criminal box
And then commenced on me

Although she swore my life away
Deprived me of my rest
Still I love my faithless Flora
The Lilly of the West

Traditional / Arr. Roger McGuinn (C) 2000 McGuinn Music

Dink’s Song

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John A. Lomax made his memorable recording. Lomax tells the tale in his remarkable book, Adventures Of A Ballad Hunter, published by MacMillan in 1947:

‘A few miles away from College Station (ie the Texas A&M College, where Lomax first began collecting folk songs) runs the Brazos River. The broad bottom lands of that river were covered with large cotton plantations. There, one day in 1908, behind lowered curtains in the home of a bachelor overseer I first saw jazz danced between the sexes. Even this rough man was unwilling to allow the public to know that he permitted young Negroes to dance in the postures now accepted as a matter of course in barrel-houses and honkytonks in cities of the South. I discovered at this time the Ballet Of The Boll Weevil, Dink’s Fare You Well, Oh Honey and many ‘blues’. Carl Sandburg, whom I place first among all present amateur folk singers, uses regularly the first two songs on his programmes. He says that Dink’s song reminds him of Sappho.

I found Dink washing her man’s clothes outside their tent on the bank of the Brazos River in Texas. Many other similar tents stood around. The black men and women they sheltered belonged to a levee-building outfit from the Mississippi River Delta, the women having been shipped from Memphis along with the mules and the iron scrapers, while the men, all skilful levee-builders, came from Vicksburg. A white foreman volunteered: ‘Without women of their own, these levee Negroes would have been all over the bottoms every night hunting for women. That would mean trouble, serious trouble. Negroes can’t work when sliced up with razors.’

The two groups of men and women had never seen each other until they met on the river bank in Texas where the white levee contractor gave them the opportunity presented to Adam and Eve – they were left alone to mate after looking each other over. While her man built the levee, each woman kept his tent, toted the water, cut the firewood, cooked, washed his clothes and warmed his bed. Down on the dumps nearer the river, clouds of drifting dust swirled from the feet of moving mules and from piles of shifted earth, while the shouts of the muleskinners sometimes grouped themselves into long-drawn-out couplets with a semi-tune – levee camp hollers:

I looked all over the corral,
Lawd, I couldn’t find a mule with his shoulder well.

Lawd, they won’t ‘low me to beat ’em,
Got to beg ’em along.

But Dink, reputedly the best singer in the camp, would give me no songs. ‘Today ain’t my singin’ day,’ she would reply to my urging. Finally, a bottle of gin, bought at a nearby plantation commissary, loosed her muse. The bottle of liquor soon disappeared. She sang, as she scrubbed her man’s dirty clothes, the pathetic story of a woman deserted by her lover when she needs him most – a very old story. Dink ended the refrain with a subdued cry of despair and longing – the sobbing of a woman deserted by her man.

Lyrics:
E A E
If I had wings like Norah’s dove
C#m A
I’d fly up the river to the one I love
E A E B7 E
Fare thee well, oh my honey, fare thee well

I’ve got a man, he’s long and tall
Moves his body like a cannon ball
Fare thee well, oh my honey, fare thee well

One of these days and it won’t be long
Call my name and I’ll be gone
Fare thee well, oh my honey, fare thee well

I remember one night, a drizzling rain
Round my heart I felt a pain
Fare thee well, oh my honey, fare thee well

If I had listened to what my mama said
I’d be at home in my mama’s bed
Fare thee well, oh my honey, fare thee well

(c) 2000 McGuinn Music / Roger McGuinn

Greenland Whale Fisheries

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This is a slightly different version of a very popular whaling song.
Lyrics:
G D G
They signed us with a whaling crew
C Em D
For the icy Greenland ground
G Em C Am
They said weÂ’d take a shorter way,
Am G D G Em
While we was outward bound brave boys
Em G D G
While we was outward bound

Oh the lookout up in the barrel stood
With a spyglass in his hand
ThereÂ’s a whale thereÂ’s a whale thereÂ’s a whale he cried
And she blows at every span brave boys
And she blows at every span

The captain stood on the quarter-deck
And the ice was in his eye
Overhaul overhaul let your davit tackles fall
And put your boats to sea brave boys
And put your boats to sea

Well the boats got down and the men aboard
And the whale was full in view
Resolve resolve let these whaler men know
To see where the whale fish blew brave boys
To see where the whale fish blew

Well the harpoon struck, the line ran out
The whale give a floody with his tail
And he upset the boat, we lost half a dozen men
No more, no more Greenland for you brave boys
No more no more Greenland for you

Bad news bad news the captain said
And it grieved his heart full sore
But the losing of that hundred pound whale
Oh it grieved him ten times more brave boys
Oh it grieved him ten times more

Oh Greenland is a dreadful place
A land thatÂ’s never green
Where the cold winds blow and the whale fish go
And the daylight's seldom seen brave boys
And the daylight's seldom seen

Traditional / Arr. Roger McGuinn
(c) 2000 McGuinn Music / Roger McGuinn

Auld Lang Syne

Lyrics:
D A
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
D G
And never brought to mind?
D A
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
G D
And days of auld lang syne?
D A
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
D G
And days of auld lang syne.
D A
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
G D
And days of auld lang syne?

We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu’d the gowans fine.
We’ve wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin’ days of auld lang syne.
Sin’ days of auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin’ days of auld lang syne,
We’ve wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin’ days of auld ang syne.

We twa hae sported i’ the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin’ days of auld lang syne.
Sin’ days of auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin’ days of auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin’ days of auld lang syne.

And ther’s a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie’s a hand o’ thine;
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We’ll tak’ a cup o’ kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

(c) 2000 McGuinn Music / Roger McGuinn

I Saw Three Ships

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Lyrics:
G
I saw three ships come sailing in
D
On Christmas day, on Christmas day
G
I saw three ships come sailing in
D G
On Christmas day in the morning.

And what was in those ships all three?
On Christmas Day, etc. And what was in etc. On Christmas day
in etc.

Our Saviour, Christ, and His Lady.

Pray, whither sailed those ships all three?

O, they sailed to Bethlehem.

And all the bells on earth shall ring.

And all the angels in heaven shall sing.

And all the souls on earth shall sing.

Then let us all rejoice and sing.

Tradidional / Arr. Roger McGuinn
(c) 1999 McGuinn Music

Ain’t No Mo Cane On De Brasis AKA Cane Blues

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This is a Southern chain gang song
Lyrics:
G D Em
It ain’ no mo’ cane on de Brazis
Am D Bm
Oh… Oh Oh
C Am G Em
Done groun’ it all in molazzis,
Am D G
Oh… Oh Oh

B’lieve I’ll do like ol’ Riley,
Ol’ Riley walked de Brazis.

One o’ dese mornin’s an’ it won’ be long,
You gonna call me an’I’ll be gone.

Oughta come on de river in nineteen-O-fo’,
You could fin’ a dead man on every turn row.

Oughta come on de river in nineteen an’ ten,
Dey was drivin’ de women jes’ like de men.

I looked at my Ol’ Hannah’ an’she’s turnin’red,
I looked at my podner an’ he’s almos’dead.

Well, I wonder what’s de matter, somepin’ mus’ be wrong
We’re stil I here rollin, Shorty George done gone.

Go down, Ol’ Hannah, doncha rise no mo’,
Ef you rise any mo’ bring judgment day.

It ain’ no mo’ cane on de Brazis
Done groun’ it all in molazzis,

(c) 1999 McGuinn Music / Roger McGuinn