Get all 14 Crosscurrents Music releases available on Bandcamp and save 25%.
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1. |
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Now 'twas twenty five or thirty years
Since Jack first saw the light
He came into this world of woe
One dark and stormy night.
He was born on board his father's ship
As she was lying to
'Bout twenty five or thirty miles
Southeast of Baccalieu.
Chorus:
Jack was ev'ry inch a sailor,
Five and twenty years a whaler,
Jack was ev'ry inch a sailor,
He was born upon the bright blue sea.
When Jack grew up to be a man,
He went to the Labrador,
He fished in Indian Harbour,
Where his father fished before.
On his returning in the fog,
He met a heavy gale,
And Jack was swept into the sea
And swallowed by a whale.
The whale went straight for Baffin's Bay,
About ninety knots an hour.
And every time he'd blow a spray
He'd send it in a shower.
"O, now" says Jack unto himself,
"I must see what he's about,"
He caught the whale by the tail
And turned him inside out.
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2. |
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A great big sea hove in Long Beach,
REFRAIN: Right fal-o-ral tad-dle did-dle i-do,
A great big sea hove in Long Beach,
And Granny Snooks she lost her speech,
REFRAIN: To me right fol-di-dy fol-dee.
A great big sea hove in the Harbour
And hove right up to Keough's Parlour
Oh, Mother, dear I wants a sack
With beads and buttons down the back
"Me boot is broke, me frock is tore
But Georgie Snooks I do adore.
Oh, fish is low and flour is high
So Georgie Snooks he can't have I
But he will have me in the fall
If he don't I'll hoist my sail
And say goodbye to old Canaille.
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3. |
The Badger Drive
04:36
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There is one class of men in this country that never is mentioned in song.
And now, since their trade is advancing, they'll come out on top before long.
They say that our sailors have danger, and likewise our warriors bold,
But there's none know the life of a driver, what he suffers with hardship and cold.
With their pike poles and peavies and bateaus and all
They're sure to drive out in the spring, that's the time
With the caulks on their boots as they get on the logs,
And it's hard to get over their time.
Bill Dorothey he is the manager, and he's a good man at the trade;
And when he's around seeking drivers, he's like a train going down grade,
But still he is a man that's kindhearted, on his word you can always depend.
And there's never a man that works with him but likes to go with him again.
I tell you today home in London, The Times it is read by each man,
But little they think of the fellows that drove the wood on Mary Ann,
For paper is made out of pulpwood and many things more you may know,
And long may our men live to drive it upon Paymeoch and Tomjoe.
The drive it is just below Badger, and everything is working grand,
With a jolly good crew of picked drivers and Ronald Kelly in command,
For Ronald is boss on the river, and I tell you he's a man that's alive,
He drove the wood off Victoria, now he's out on the main river drive.
So now to conclude and to finish, I hope that ye all will agree
In wishing success to all Badger and the A.N.D. Company.
And long may they live for to flourish, and continue to chop, drive and roll,
And long may the business be managed by Mr. Dorothey and Mr. Cole.
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4. |
The Bird Rocks
03:36
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'Twas winter down the icy Gulf, The Gulf St. Lawrence wide,
Where stands a light-house on a rock, The sailor's friend and guide.
The keeper and his wife and son, A helper too had he,
These four alone lived on that rock, Surrounded by the sea.
One day these three brave men went out, As they were wont to do,
On rugged sheets of frozen ice To capture seals a few.
But as they lingered o'er the seals, At length they failed to see
The wind had veered from south to east And drove the ice to sea.
The sheets of ice on which they stood Were drifted all unseen,
And now they could not gain that rock For water flowed between.
They wove their hands in wild despair And did for rescue pray,
But not a soul was near to help That freezing winter's day.
Alone within the light-house tower, The keeper's wife did see
Her loved ones carried to their doom Toward the open sea.
Four months she lived on that lone rock, Grief-stricken yet so brave,
For nightly gleamed her beacon light Across the gloomy wave.
At length the welcome spring appeared, A steamship came around,
And when the skipper climbed the rock But one brave soul he found.
She told her tale in plaintive tones, The skipper's eyes grew dim,
He turned his eyes toward the sea, His heart was touched within.
"What did you do," at last he said, "When all was snatched from you?"
"I kept my light still burning, sir, 'Twas all that I could do."
Oh may we, like this faithful soul In sorrow's darkest night,
Still do our duty for our God, And show the world our light!
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5. |
The Old Polina
04:04
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There's a noble fleet o' whalers sailin' from Dundee
Manned by British sailors to take them o'er the sea
On a western ocean passage we started on the trip
We flew along just like a song on our gallant whalin' ship
CHORUS:
For the wind was on her quarter, the engine's workin’ free
There's not another whaler that sails the arctic sea
Can beat the old Polina, ye need not try me sons
We challenged all both great and small from Dundee to St. john's
Twas the second Sunday morning just after leaving port
We met a heavy south-west gale that washed away our boat
It washed away our quarter deck our stanchions just as well
And so we sent the whole she-bang a floatin' in the gale
CHORUS
Art Jackman set his canvas and Willard got up steam
And captain Guy the daring by' came plungin' through the stream
And Mullins' in the Husky tried to beat the bloody lot
But to beat the Old Polina boys was something he could not
CHORUS
There's the noble Terra Nova, a model without doubt
The Arctic and Aurora they talk so much about
Art Jackman's model mailboat the terror of the sea
tried to beat the old Polina on a passage from Dundee
CHORUS
Now we're back in old St. John's where rum is very cheap
we'll drink a health to captain Guy who brought us o'er the deep
a health to all our sweethearts and to our wives so fair
not another ship could make the trip, the Polina I declare!
CHORUS (repeat)
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6. |
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Come all you true countrymen, come listen to me,
A story I'll tell you of the S.S. Ethie;
She being the steam boat employed on our shore,
To carry freight, mail and passengers down on the Labrador.
On the tenth of December, as you all well may know,
In the year nineteen nineteen, on her last trip did go;
Where she leaves Daniel's Harbour about 4 P.M.
With a strong breeze from the south'ard, for Cow Head did steam.
The glass indicated a wild raging storm,
And about nine o'clock the storm did come on;
With the ship's husband on board, the crew had no fear,
Captain English gave orders straight for Bonne Bay to steer.
At first to the storm the brave ship gave no heed,
Until at length it was found she was fast losing speed;
And the great waves all around her like great Mountains did rise,
And the crew all stood staring with fear in their eyes.
The order went around to preserve for their life,
For the ship she is doomed and it's perish we might;
But still there is hope - there is one brave man on board,
Who says he can guide her safely on to the shore.
Walter Young, being our purser, as you may understand.
Volunteered for to guide her safely in to the land;
John Gullage, our first mate, bravely stood to the wheel,
Captain English gave orders and all worked with a will.
Up off Martin's Point about one o'clock,
Through bravery and courage, she escapes every rock;
And the people on the shore saw the ship in distress,
All rushed to the spot for to help to do their best.
And when we were landed in a rude boatswain's chair,
Taken in by the people and treated with care;
We stayed on the point until it was o'er,
And the brave little Ethie lay standing on shore.
O, what of the fright, the exhaustion and cold,
The depth of my story will never be told!
And all you brave fellows gets shipwrecked on the sea,
You think of the fate of the S.S. Ethie.
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7. |
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Old Jim Jones the fisher, the trapper, the trawler
Jim Jones the fish-killin' banker is dead.
No fisherman surely never stepped in a dory
Like Jim Jones the fisher who died in his bed.
Was there any old fellow tied sods or made bobbers
And set out his trawls in the dark it is said?
No fisherman ever braved such stormy weather
Like Jim Jones the trawler who died in his bed.
Jim Jones he would shorely go out in a dory
And set out his traps all welghed down with lead.
No fisher from side on hauled traps with such tide on
As Jim Jones the trapper who died in his bed.
In the foggiest of weather he'd set out the leader,
But who in the devil this side of the Head
Could haul up such codfish or pick out the dogfish
Like old Skipper Jones who died in his bed?
There was never such a salter this side of the water;
And ne'er such a glutton for eatin' cods' heads.
There ne'er was a crackie who could chaw tobaccy
Like old Skipper Jones who died in his bed.
Was there any old fisher or any old fellow (could)
Cut throats or split fish or tear off the head?
I'm darned if I ever saw one who'd pick liver
So fast as our skipper who died in his bed.
Is there any old fellow this side of the harbor
Sailed straight out the harbor or tacked round the Head
It would make you all frantic to sail the Atlantic
With old Skipper Jones who died in his bed.
His fishing days ended, his traps are unmended,
His trawls are all rotten, his fishing boat sunk.
His days as a rover are finished and over
Old Skipper Jim Jones who died in his bunk.
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8. |
The Peat Fire Flame
02:30
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Far away and o'er the moor,
Far away and o'er the moor,
Far away and o'er the moor,
Morar waits for a boat that saileth,
Far away down Lowland way,
I dream the dream I learned, lad,
CHORUS:
By the light o' the peat-fire flame,
Light for love, for lilt, for laughter
By the light o' the peat-fire flame,
The light the hill-folk yearn for.
Far away and o'er the moor,
Far away and o'er the moor,
Far away, down Lowland way,
Grim's the toil, without tune or dream, lad,
All you need's a creel and love,
For the dream the heart can weave, lad
CHORUS
Far away and o'er the moor,
Far away the tramp and tread,
Tune and laughter of all the heroes,
Pulls me onward o'er the trail
Of the dream my heart may weave, lad,
By the light o' the peat-fire flame,
Light for love, for lilt o' grail-deeds,
By the light o' the peat-fire flame,
The light the hill-folk yearn for.
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9. |
The Restigouche Race
04:42
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This is the race of Clyde and Bill
The people are talking about it still
Mothers tell their children with bated breath
How this race with Bill was like a race with death.
Now Bill was a man with muscles of steel
He was muscle from the neck down to the heel.
He could pole a boat or a large canoe
With most half a ton on a heavy dew.
Yes sir! Bill was as strong as both me and you.
And he'd tell a crowd on certain days
Always giving himself the praise
Of carrying a boat, near a ton or more
Full three miles in from the Kedgwick shore.
Oh, if you'd believe him, he say two or more.
Now Clyde is a man of a different type
His hands were small and his frame was slight
But you'd never hear him tell at all
of the work he'd done from spring 'til fall.
You'd never hear him tell a soul
Of the mighty loads he often poled
Poled away on the great North Branch
Where the skeeters hand in hand did dance
Danced on his head where the hair was thin
But he'd never complain, no sir, not him,
He was patience personified
This wonderful hardworking warden, Clyde.
But this was the day of the fateful race
Bill had the best motor in the place
A Johnson motor, that had the hum
of a bumble bee in a homeward run
'Twould do you good to see her go
O'er the waters, fast or slow.
Bill at the helm, you'd hear him say
He knew where every rock in the channel lay
And he'd swear that he never cut a pin
Old Ananias had nothing on him.
But this is the story -- 'list while you may
And Clyde will tell it in a cheerful way.
Bill started off in a cloud of smoke
As the Johnson turned, he lifted the choke
Then he waved his hand, bade "good-bye" to me
And steered his course for the seven-mile tree.
Then I laughed a bit, well. 'twas only a grin
For 'twas there friend Bill cut his very first pin.
The Johnson screamed as the pin let go,
Bill drifted back on the bar below
The blue smoke arose once more
And I couldn't see Bill or the Kedgwick Shore.
But I said not a word; I was rather late
So I kept pushing for twenty-eight.
Then the spruce pole bent, and the Lewis swayed
And white was the foam on the bars she made.
While ducks were passed as they scattered in flight
And I kept pushing for twenty-eight.
But hark! There's a hum and up near Cyr
I fell that my friend is drawing near.
And I know by the distant, though mighty roar
That the Johnson is doing her best once more
And I'm thinking of Bill, and I'm wondering if he
Is sitting so cool in the stern, by gee
"There's many a slip" the proverb ran
There's many a slip since the fall of man.
And many the time Bill swore they say
As the Johnson slipped, when the pin gave way
And many a time the Johnson spun
On the bar at Clinch, and at the "States Brook Run."
But the spruce pole bent, and the Lewis swayed
And I passed twelve ducks on the next two grades
Though my feet were wet and my clothes were damp
I came in first on the Taut Mile Camp.
So this is the story of Clyde and Bill
And people are talking about it still.
Mothers tell their children with bated breath
How this race with Bill, was like a race with death.
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10. |
La Rirette (The Giggle)
02:18
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Jeanneton prend sa faucille
La rirette, la rirette
Jeanneton prend sa faucille
Pour aller couper des joncs
Pour aller couper des joncs.
En chemin elle rencontre
La rirette, la rirette
En chemin elle rencontre
quatre jeunes et beaux garcons.
quatre jeunes et beaux garcons.
Le premier, un peu trop sage
La rirette, la rirette
Le premier, un peu trop sage
lui chatouilla le menton.
lui chatouilla le menton.
Le deuxieme, encore moins sage
La rirette, la rirette
Le deuxieme, encore moins sage
La coucha sur le gazon.
La coucha sur le gazon.
Le troisieme, un peu moins sage
La rirette, la rirette
Le troisieme, un peu moins sage
lui souleva le jupon.
lui souleva le jupon.
Ce que fit le quatrieme
La rirette, la rirette
Ce que fit le quatrieme
n' est pas dit dans cette chanson.
n' est pas dit dans cette chanson.
Si vous le saviez, mes dames
La rirette, la rirette
Si vous le saviez, mes dames
vous iriez couper des joncs!
vous iriez couper des joncs!
La morale de cette histoire
La rirette, la rirette
La morale de cette histoire
c'est qu'les hommes sont des cochons.
c'est qu'les hommes sont des cochons.
La morale de cette morale
La rirette, la rirette
La morale de cette morale
c'est qu'les femmes aiment les cochons!
c'est qu'les femmes aiment les cochons!
La morale de ces morales
La rirette, la rirette
La morale de ces morales
c'est qu’il y aura des p’tits cochons!
c'est qu’il y aura des p’tits cochons!
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11. |
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En passant par Paris
Caressant la bouteille
Passant par Paris
Caressant la bouteille
Un de mes amis
Me dit à l'oreille
Bon, bon, bon
Le bon vin m'endort
L'amour me réveille
Le bon vin m'endort
L'amour me réveille encore
Un de mes amis
Me dit à l'oreille
Un de mes amis
Me dit à l'oreille
Jean, prends garde à toi
On courtise ta belle
Courtise qui voudra
Je me fie en elle
J'ai eu de son coeur
La fleur la plus belle
Dans un beau lit blanc
Gréé de dentelles
J'ai eu trois garçons
Tous les trois capitaines
L'un est à Bordeaux
L'autre à la Rochelle
Le plus jeune à Paris
Courtisant les belles
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12. |
I Went to the Market
02:05
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I went to the market; mon p´tit panier sous mon bras; (my little basket in hand)
I went to the market; mon p´tit panier sous mon bras; (my little basket in hand)
The first girl I met was la fill' d'un avocat. (was the lawyer's daughter)
Refrain:
I love you, vous n'm'entendez guerre
I love you, vous n'm'entendez pas.
I love you, vous n'm'entendez guerre
I love you, vous n'm'entendez pas.
(you hardly hear me… you don't hear me at all)
The first girl I met was la fill' d'un avocat.
The first girl I met was la fill' d'un avocat.
‘Monsieu' what'av you got dans ce beau p'tit panier la?” (in that lovely little basket?)
Refrain
“ Monsieu' what ‘av you got dans ce beau p'tit panier la?”
“ Monsieu' what ‘av you got dans ce beau p'tit panier la?”
“I've got some apples n'm'en acheteriez vous pas?”
(won't you buy some from me?)
Refrain
“I've got some apples n'm'en acheteriez vous pas?”
“I've got some apples n'm'en acheteriez vous pas?”
“Oh! Give me two dozens, pis l'bon homm' te paiera ca”
(and the guy will pay you…)
Refrain
“Oh! Give me two dozens, pis l'bon homm' te paiera ca”
“Oh! Give me two dozens, pis l'bon homm' te paiera ca”
I gave her two dozens mai l'bon homm' y payait pas…
(but the guy did not pay)
Refrain
I gave her two dozens mai l'bon homm' y payait pas…
I gave her two dozens mai l'bon homm' y payait pas…
That’s what you get avec une fill' d'un avocat!!!
(with the lawyer's daughter)
Refrain
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13. |
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I couldn't possibly transcribe this, as I've never seen any of the bits written down.
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14. |
La belle s'est endormie
03:12
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La belle s'est endormie sur un beau lit de roses
La belle s'est endormie sur un beau lit de roses
Blanche comme la neige, bell' comme le jour,
Trois jeunes capitaines s'en vont lui faire l'amour.
Le plus jeune des trois la prend par sa main blanche
Le plus jeune des trois la prend par sa main blanche
"Montez, montez, princesse, dessus mon cheval gris!°
A Paris, je vous mène dans un fort beau logis."
Tout aussitôt rendus à cette hôtellerie
Tout aussitôt rendus à cette hôtellerie
"Mangez, buvez, la belle, selon votre appétit!
Avec un capitaine vous passez la nuit."
Au milieu du repas, la belle tombe morte
Au milieu du repas, la belle tombe morte
"Sonnez, sonnez, les cloches, tambour au régiment!
Ma maitresse, elle est morte, a l'age de quinze ans. "
"Où l'enterrerons-nous, cette aimable princesse?
"Où l'enterrerons-nous, cette aimable princesse?
"Au jardin de son père, dessous un pommier gris.
Nous prierons Dieu pour elle, qu'elle aille en paradis."
Mais au bout de trois jours, son père se promène
Mais au bout de trois jours, son père se promène
"Ouvrez, ouvrez, la tombe, mon pèr', si vous m'aimez!
Trois jours j'ai fait la morte, pour mon honneur garder."
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15. |
Belle Virginie
02:23
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Belle Virginie, les larmes aux yeux
Je viens te faire mes adieux
Et la je repars pour l'Amérique
Et je m'en vas suivant le vent
Et adieu donc belle Virginie
Les voiles sont déjà mises au vent
Les voiles au vent, mon cher amant
Cela me cause du tourment
Il surviendra quelque tempête
Et des orages assurément
Qui fera périr ton bâtiment
Et moi je resterai sans amant
Belle Virginie, ne crains donc rien
Je suis un premier marin
Et je connais toute la terre
Et je suis sûr de mon vaisseau
Il m'arrivera aucun naufrage
Durant que j'serai sur les eaux
Belle Virginie, jusqu'au retour
Sois fidèle à nos amours
Je te promets, o ma mignonne
De revenir en ce pays
Là nous nous marierons ensemble
Et adieu donc belle Virginie
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16. |
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Amis, partons sans bruit; La pêche sera bonne
La lune qui rayonne éclairera la nuit.
Il faut qu'avant l'aurore Nous soyons de retour
Pour sommeiller encore Avant qu'il soit grand jour.
REFRAIN:
Partons, la mer est belle; Embarquons-nous, pêcheurs,
Guidons notre nacelle, Ramons avec ardeur.
Aux mâts hissons les voiles, Le ciel est pur et beau,
Je vois briller l'étoile Qui guide les matelots!
Ainsi chantait mon père Lorsqu'il quitta le port.
Il ne s'attendait guère à y trouver la mort.
Par les vents, par l'orage, Il fut surpris soudain,
Et d'un cruel naufrage Il subit le destin.
REFRAIN
Je n'ai plus que ma mère Qui ne possède rien;
Elle est dans la misère, Je suis son seul soutien.
Ramons, ramons bien vite, Je l'aperçois là-bas,
Je la vois qui m'invite En me tendant les bras.
REFRAIN
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17. |
Gulf of Saint Lawrence
01:38
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Salt and sand and surf and seagulls
Sea and silence surrounding self.
Chamomile, raspberry, bottle brush, bog myrtle,
Pitcher plant, goldenrod, bearberry, balsam fir
Long low line of this Long Range land.
Bare black blocks of lichened boulders
Barren bones of rock lie broken
Wrack and rockweed bobbing
Ribs and ridges reaching
Coastline curves in crustal cracking
Black, volcanic, Cambrian, Precambrian.
Harsh unhurried hush of tidal hissing
Shatters shales and flat black slates that rattle,
Roll, recede, returning rounded, pebbled cobbles.
Great and gray as glaciers gliding
Clouds cowl mountains mirrored in masses passing
Hiding Lomond low and folded.
Bonne Bay gray and blue moves blowing
White wings rising, whitecaps tossing
Gray wings grapple, gray bay ripples,
Races, runs, and rolls the river seaward.
Soar and sail and fly -- cry, seabird!
Sun sets red on ruddy ridges.
Sheep seam the shorn shores to the spruce
Tracks of the flock stitching the cliffs.
Lookout's long, low line lies leeward
Lighthouse, gleaming, gathers evening from the Gulf.
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Crosscurrents Music Boston, Massachusetts
Lynn Noel brings traditional song and heritage arts online to create community. Lynn has a voice of striking clarity and
power, equally at home in rhythmic chanteys and flowing ballads.
Lynn is a respected song session leader on both sides of the Atlantic and the producer and host of the Mermaid's Tavern online folk club. She is currently Program Chair of the New England Folk Festival (NEFFA).
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