Released 1984, reissued on CD 1997
Produced by Dramtreeo
Technical support, Ben Peele and Digital Sound
Recorded by Alan Sawyer @ Commercial Audio, Virginia Beach, VA
Digitally re-mastered by Lion & Fox Recording, Inc.
Art Director, Susie Cucura
Original Photography, Jack Simmons
Photographic update, Martin Smith-Rodden
Click on the record to download an order form.
|
|
|
| Jerry Cronin - Tenor, Guitar, Whistles | Marsha Gilmore - Soprano (No Man's Land) |
| Marty Sachs - Tenor, String Bass | Kimberly Haywood - Percussion (Roddy McCorley) |
| Meade Stith - Tenor, Banjo | Bart Tuthill - Mandolin (Who Will Sing for Me) |
| Chip Vogan - Baritone, Guitar | David Vogan - Cello (No Man's Land) |
Thanks to Meade Stith, Bruce Lea and Dave Walker who formed the original trio.
Our love and appreciation to Barbara, Phyllis, and Marcia, whose patience and understanding miraculously continues.
 Home |
LYRICS
THE MERMAID
Traditional, Arr. Clancy Brothers & Tommy Makem,© Tiparm Music, ASCAP
Dramtreeo learned this popular British Isles tune about the bad luck associated with the sighting of a mermaid from Bob and Jim Heely of the Norfolk, Virginia, band, Tanner's Creek Whalers.
It was Friday morn when we set sail
And we were not far from the land
When our captain he spied a mermaid so fair
With a comb and a glass in her hand.
And the ocean waves do roll
And the stormy winds do blow
We brave sailors go skipping up aloft
And the landlubbers lie down below, below, below
And the landlubbers lie down below.
Well up spoke the Captain of our gallant ship
And a fine old man was he
"This fishy mermaid has warned me of our doom
We shall sink to the bottom of the sea."
And the ocean waves...
Then up spoke the mate of our gallant ship
And a fine young officer was he
"Now I have a wife in Salem town
And tonight a widow she will be."
And the ocean waves...
Then up spoke the cook of our gallant ship
And a wimpy little sailor was he
"I care much more for my pots and pans
Then I care for the bottom of the sea."
And the ocean waves...
Three times 'round spun our gallant ship
Yes and three times 'round spun she
Three times 'round spun our gallant ship
And she sank to the bottom of the sea.
And the ocean waves...
Back to list 
SOUTH AUSTRALIA
Traditional, Arr. Tom Clancy,© Tiparm Music, ASCAP
This sea chantey is sung in four parts, accompanied by banjo, guitar and bass in this rousing version. The ending is typical Dramtreeo - a new twist to an old song.
In South Australia I was born
Heave away, haul away
In South Australia 'round Cape Horn
We're bound for South Australia.
Haul away you Rolling King
To me heave away, haul away
Haul away, oh hear me sing
We're bound for South Australia.
As I walked out one morning fair
'Twas there I met Miss Nancy Blair
Haul away...
I shook her up, I shook her down
I danced that girl around the town
Haul away...
There ain't but one thing grieves my mind
To leave Miss Nancy Blair behind
Haul away...
As we go a'walloping around Cape Horn
You'll wish to God you'd ne'er been born
Haul away...
And now we've arrived at the Blackmoor docks
All the fair haired lasses come in flocks
Haul away...
We'll shake 'em up, we'll shake 'em down
We'll waltz them girls around the town
Haul away...
Back to list
TAKE YOUR PAY
by Jerry Cronin,© Southern Branch Music, BMI
In February of 1983 the Marine Electric sank during a Winter storm off the Virginia Capes. The poor condition of the collier and the tragic loss of 32 of the 35-man crew prompted Jerry to write this song.
Kiss your wives, kiss your sweethearts goodbye
Kiss your sons and daughters too
You're going to sail on a cargo line
Not sure if you'll be coming through
The hull she is rust and the hatches all sprung
Six snatch blocks just to get one down
And if that patch in the starboard side gives
Well boys, we're all going to drown.
But take your pay, take your pay
There isn't much work to be had today
American shipping, it ain't much any more
Sailing those ships from the Second World War.
She headed out with a cargo of coal
Sailed past Chesapeake Light
The mate on watch, he looked out at the waves
Said "Boys we're in for a long night"
He tried to keep her bow to the swell
Prayed that God would show him how
But there isn't much help from the heavens or from hell
You can't steer when you're down by the bow.
But take your pay...
She went down but they don't know why
Three men was all that made it through
The company cried "She never should have sailed"
But what was the Master to do?
American ships with convenient flags
All have their jobs to be done
And if one man says that he won't sail today
There's money will buy another one.
But take your pay...
Kiss your wives, kiss your sweethearts goodbye
Kiss your sons and daughters too
You're going to sail on a cargo line
Not sure if you'll be coming through.
But take your pay...
MAUI
Traditional, Arr. Stan Rogers, © Fogarty's Cove, PROC
This a cappella sea chantey has been artistically arranged: it contains the rhythmic and lyric sophistication of modern folk music while maintaining the essence of the traditional.
It's a mighty hard life full of toil and strife
We whalermen undergo
And we won't give a damn when the gale is done
How hard the winds did blow
For we're homeward bound from the Arctic ground
With a good ship taut and free
And we won't give a damn when we drink our rum
With the girls of old Maui.
Rolling down to old Maui me boys
Rolling down to old Maui
We're homeward bound from the Arctic ground
Rolling down to old Maui.
Once more we'll sail with a northerly gale
Through the ice and wind and rain
Them tropical lands and coconut fronds
We soon shall see again
Six hellish months we've toiled away
On the cold Kamchatka Sea
Now we're homeward bound from the Arctic ground
Rolling down to old Maui.
Rolling down...
Once more we'll sail with the northerly gale
Towards our island home
Our mainsail's sprung, our whaling's done
And we ain't got far to roam
Our studd'sail bones is carried away
What care we for that sound?
A living gale is after us
Thank God we're homeward bound.
Rolling down...
A soft summer breeze from the island trees
And the ice is far astern
Them native maids in tropical glades
Is awaitin' our return
Right now their big brown eyes look out
Hoping for some day to see
Our baggy sails running 'fore the gales
Rolling down to old Maui.
Rolling down...
THE GHOSTSHIP MORPHY
by Tom Wisner, Arr. Dramtreeo, © Southern Branch Music, BMI
When Captain Watt Herbert was a boy, he witnessed the sinking of the J. R. Morphy during a storm on the Potomac River. When the storm abated, he and his father set sail for home. They were startled when, through the mist, they saw the Morphy sail out of a fog bank. It couldn't have happened - the Morphy had been lost with all hands - but Captain Watt was quick to say that he and his father were not the only people who saw the "Ghostship Morphy."
Can you see the cargo schooner J. R. Morphy
As she beats to windward
To the leeward of the aged Blackistone Island?
We were standing off the cliffs of Nomini
And I could see
Five sails on her running to the lee.
She's a flying jibsail schooner
Close hauled on a starboard tack
One hundred ton of oyster shell a'riding on her back
John Ranier was her captain and she hailed from lower bay
And though the wind was nor'west down
She made good time that day.
As she beat between Cobb Bar and Blackistone Island
The wind was wailing
Sixty knot and stewing down the old Wicomico
And the old Potomac rose in all her fury
Like a judge and jury
To try the skill of John Ranier's command
You'd a thought he's on a mill pond
The way he trimmed her out
He left the fore and mainsail up
And then he came about
Her bow was driving under
And she dropped six fathoms down
Left her rigging standing
And the crew and captain drowned.
We waited out that gale in old Machodoc
My Dad and me
While the J. R. Morphy foundered in the sea
Two days that storm came howling down the river
Then moderated
And the wind came round to blowing light sou'east
We was making headway homeward
And feeling mighty fine
My Dad he held the mainsheet and we left our cares behind
Dad looked across the river
And I saw him set his gaze
I looked where he was peerin'
Through the early mornin' haze.
We could see the cargo schooner J. R. Morphy
As she beats to windward
To the leeward of the aged Blackistone Island
We were standing off the cliffs of Nomini
And I could see
Five sails on her running to the lee.
She's a flying jibsail schooner
Close hauled on a starboard tack
One hundred ton of oyster shell a' riding on her back
John Ranier is her captain and she hails from lower bay
And when the wind is nor'west down
You can see her sail today.
Back to list
RODDY McCORLEY
by Ethna Carbury, Arr. Pat Clancy, © Tiparm Music, ASCAP
This song, written by Ethna Carbury and adapted by the Clancy Brothers, recalls an event from one of Ireland's many rebellions - a young man bravely facing martyrdom.
Oh see the fleet-foot hosts of men
Who come with faces wan
From farmstead and from fisher's cot
Along the Banks of Bann
They come with vengeance in their eyes
Too late, too late are they
For young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the Bridge of Toome today.
Up the narrow street he stepped
Smiling proud and young
About the hemp rope on his neck
The golden ringlets clung
There was never a tear in his blue eyes
Though sad and bright are they
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the Bridge of Toome today.
When last he stepped upon that street
Shining pike in hand
Around him marched in grim array
A stalwart earnest band
"For Antrim town, for Antrim town"
He led them to the fray
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the Bridge of Toome today.
There is never a one of all your men
More bravely died in fray
Than he who marches to his death
On the Bridge of Toome today
True to the last, true to the last
He treads the upward way
As young Roddy McCorley goes to die
On the Bridge of Toome today.
BLACK AND TANS
by Dominic Behan, © Chappell Solomon Music
This is a defiant, challenging song hurled against the British troops sent to Ireland in 1920 to put down the Irish uprising. Ireland gained some freedom, but the memory of the black-trousered & brown-shirted "Tans" still lives.
I was born on the Dublin streets where the loyal drums did beat
And those loving English feet they tramped all over us
And every single night when my Dad would come home tight
He'd invite the neighbors outside with this chorus:
"Come out you Black and Tans, come out and fight me like a man
Show your wives how you won medals down in Flanders
Tell 'er how the IRA made you run like hell away
From the green and lovely lanes of Killashandra."
Alan Larkin and O'Brian, how you bravely called 'em swine
Robert Emmett who you hung, you drew and quartered
Upon the scaffold high, how you murdered Henry Joy
And our croppy boys in Wexford you have slaughtered.
"Come out...
Come and let us hear you tell how you slandered great Parnell
When you thought him truly well and persecuted
Where are the sneers and jeers that you loudly let us hear
When our leaders of sixteen were executed?
"Come out...
Come and tell us how you slew them old Arabs two by two
Like the Zulus they had spears and bow and arrows
How bravely you faced one with your sixteen pounder guns
Well you frightened them damn natives to the marrow.
"Come out...
Well the time is coming fast and the day is nearly passed
When each shoneen shall be cast aside before us
And if there be a need, well my son will say Godspeed
With a verse or two of Stephan Behan's chorus.
"Come out...
Back to list
NO MAN'S LAND
by Eric Bogle, © Ackee, ASCAP
While reading headstones in a graveyard in France, Eric Bogle was struck by the interrupted youth of the soldiers who died in WWI. The song that resulted was a "number one" hit in Ireland and Scotland. It points out the ultimate sorrow of wars to end all wars - they happen again, and again, and again.
Well how do you do young Willie McBride?
Do you mind if I sit here down by your graveside?
And sit for awhile 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day and I'm near to done.
I can see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen of Nineteen Sixteen
Well I hope you died well, I hope you died clean
Or young Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?
Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the pipe lowly?
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play The Flowers of the Forest?
Did you leave e'er a wife, or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined?
Or did you die barren, in Nineteen Sixteen
In that faithful heart are you forever nineteen?
Or are you a stranger without even a name
Enclosed in forever behind the glass pane
In an old photograph, torn, tattered and stained
And faded to yellow in a brown leathern frame?
Did they beat...
Well the sun it now shines on the green fields of France
There's a warm Summer's breeze makes the red poppies dance
And see how the sun shines from under the clouds
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now
But here in this graveyard it's still no man's land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
To a whole generation that was butchered and damned.
Did they beat...
Ah, young Willie McBride, I can't help wonder why
Do those that lie here know why they did die?
And did they believe, when they answered the call
Did they really believe that this war would end all?
But the sorrow, the suffering, the glory, the pain
The killing, the dying, were all done in vain
For young Willie McBride it all happened again
And again, and again, and again and again.
Did they beat...
Back to list
WHO WILL SING FOR ME?
Traditional, Arr. Dramtreeo, © Southern Branch Music, BMI
Marty sang the lead in the chorus of this gospel tune that he taught the group. A few months after the initial release of this album in 1984, Meade, Jerry, and Chip sang this song at Marty's funeral in Hartford, Connecticut.
Hark I sing for my friend
When death's cold form I see
When I reach my journey's end
Tell me who will sing for me?
I wonder who will sing for me
When I come to the cross by the silent sea
Tell me who will sing for me?
And when friends have gathered round
And look down on me
Will they turn and walk away
Or will they sing one song for me?
I wonder who...
And so I'll sing unto the end
And hopeful I'll try to be
I'm ever knowin' there'll be someone
Who's gonna sing one song for me.
I wonder who...
Back to list
I'M GOING HOME
by Fred Geis, © Edwin H. Morris & Co.
This rousing song from the Great Folk Revival of the 1960s describes what kind of folks gather to sing and listen to these songs -- friendly people!
Well, no matter where I wander
I know I'll always find a welcome
At the end of every journey
There'll be friendly people waiting.
California could not hold me
Though I loved her timber mountains
Worked her hills and worked her orchards
Up and down her Central Valley.
I have driven open highways
Through the golden Utah valley
And I watched her rivers, gently gliding
I waved my hand to friendly people.
California...
Folks who know me call me drifter
They don't know I'd stop my ramblin'
They don't know that someday
Somewhere somebody's gonna make me settle down.
I'm going home Lord, I'm going home
Well, no matter where I wander
I know I'll always find a welcome
At the end of every journey
There'll be friendly people waiting.
California...
|
Home |
