The Tannahill Weavers
Passage: 1983 - Stoof MU 7490 LP
Lyrics and Song Notes
MARIE CHRISTINE
Gordon Lightfoot
Have you seen the light house shining from the rock?
Or the ship Marie Christine and all her gallant lot?
Have you seen the lighthouse oh we are close to land?
Cried the brave young captain to his wretched men.
Have you seen the harbour cried Marie Christine?
Have you seen the jagged rocks in the waters in between?
Have you seen the lighthouse oh save me if you can
If you do I'll promise you I'll never sail again.
Have you seen the light house shining from the rock?
Cried the brave young captain to his wretched lot.
Then gather all your photographs and don your coats of blue,
If anyone can save us now Marie Christine 'tis now.
First verse again.
When first I saw Marie Christine, the woman that she was,
I signed aboard to man her sail and with honour held her course.
I christened her with old champagne, and I drove her to the West.
Of all the men who sailed on her, in truth I sailed her best.
First verse again and repeat.
The Coach House Reel / Marie Christine / The Coach House Reel: Pipe tune "The Coach House Reel" by Alan MacLeod (Munich Music). Marie Christine" words and music by Gordon Lightfoot.
The pipe tune which begins this Gordon Lightfoot song was written by Alan in dedication to his local hostelry in Balfron.
Those old ship s and seas and the heavy lonely sea dogs - the ones that live to love. And the tender ladies - Marie Christine.
LADY DYSIE
There once was a King, and a very great King,
And a King o' muckle fame.
He had a lovely dochter fair,
Lady Dysie was her name.
And word's gane up, and words's gane doon,
And word's gane tae the King,
Lady Dysie she gans richt round about,
And tae whom they dinnae ken.
When bells were rung and mass was sung,
And they 've a gan tae their rest
The King's gan tae Lady Dysie's bower,
And he wasnae a welcome guest.
He's pu'd the curtains round about,
And there he sat him doon,
Gae tell me Lady Dysie he said,
What gars ye gan sae roon?
Is it tae a Lord or tae a Laird,
Or a Baron o' high degree?
Gae tell me Lady Dysie he said
And I pray thee dinnae lee.
Oh it's no' tae a Lord and it's no' tae a Laird,
Nor tae on ie Barony,
But it's tae Roger the kitchen boy
Wha ca's sae aye tae me.
He's ca'd his merry men oot by one,
By one, by twa, by three,
And last came Roger the kitchen boy,
And he's dashed him tae a tree.
And he's ta'en oot that bonnie boy's heart
Pit it in a cup of gold,
And he's sent it tae Lady Dysie's bower,
Because she's been sae bold.
Fare weel Faither, Fareweel Mither,
Fareweel tae comfort and joy.
He died for me, I'll die for him
Though he was but a kitchen boy.
Fareweel Mither, Fareweel Faither,
Fareweel my br it hers three,
Ye thocht ye had taken the life o' yin,
But ye've taken the lives o' three.
Traditional arranged by the Tannahill Weavers (Munich Music).
This is one of the hundreds of songs dealing with secret meetings between the upper class and those from "below the salt". And, as usual, the Lady finds herself in big trouble. On hearing of the couples' sin the King decides to take action. Out comes the kitchen boy's heart to be promptly sent to the Lady in a golden cup. The Lady, being more than a little upset at the death of her lover kills herself and the unborn child.
HARRIS AND THE MARE
Stan Rogers
Harris my old friend, good to see your face again,
More welcome though the trap and that old mare,
For the wife is in a swoon, and I am all alone.
Harris fetch your mare and take us home.
The wife and I came out for a quiet glass of stout,
And a word or two with the neighbours in the room.
But young Cleary he came in, as wild and drunk as sin,
And swore the wife would leave the p lace with him,
But the wife, as quick as thought, said no I'll bloody not,
And she struck the brute a blow about the head.
He raised his ugly paw and lashed her on the jaw,
And she fell upon the floor like she were dead.
Now Harris well you know I've never struck an angry blow,
Nor wou Id I keep a friend who raised his hand.
was a conshie in the war, crying "What the he It's this for?"
But I had to see his bfood to be a man.
I took him by the coat, spun him round and took his throat,
And I beat his head upon the parlour floor.
He dragged out an awful knife and he roared "I'll have your life".
Then he stuck me and I fell upon the floor.
Blood I was from neck to thigh, a bloody murder in his eye,
As he shouted out "I'll finish you for sure".
But as the knife came down, I lashed out from the ground,
And the knife was in his breast when he rolled o'er.
With the wife as cold as clay I carried her away,
No hand was raised to help us through the door.
And I've brought her half a mile, but I had to rest a while,
And none of them I'll call a friend no more.
For when the knife came down I was helpless on the ground, l
No neighbour stayed his hand, I was alone.
By God I was a man, but now I cannot stand,
Harris fetch your mere and take us home.
Now Harris fetch your mare and take us out of here,
In my nine and fifty years I 'd never known,
That to call myself a man for my loved one I must stand,
Harris fetch your mare and take us home.
Words and music by Stan Rogers (Fogarty' s Cove Music) .
A beautiful song from Stan Rogers, who not only writes great songs but makes great soup and bread (for which we will be eternally thankful). We first met Stan in Ontario, Canada, where ne now lives, and fell in love with his songs. We believe him to be one of the finest living lyricists - with a voice as rich as his words.
PHUKTIPHANNO/JOHN MACKENZIE's FANCY
Traditional arranged by the Tannahill Weavers (Munich Music).
The slip jig is one we learned one very merry night while touring in Germany, with a wild bunch of Ilads known collectively as The Wild Geese. We had the great pleasure of travelling together with these fine people for many weeks during the First and Second Celtic Festivals.
"John MacKenzie's Fancy" was originally learned by us as a hornpipe, but, over the years, we have gradually "souped it up" into being the reel which we now play.
THE HIGHLAND LADDIE
The Lawland Lads think they are fine,
But oh they're vain and idle gaudy.
How much unlike the graceful mein,
And manly looks o' my Highland Laddie.
If I were free at will to choose,
To be the weal thiest Lawland Lady,
I'd tak' young Donald without trews
Wi' bonnet blue and Highland plaidie.
CHORUS:
Oh my bonnie bonnie Highland Laddie
Oh my bonnie bonnie Highland Laddie
When I was sick and like to die
He rowed me in his Highland plaidie.
O'er Benty Hill wi' him I'll run
And leave my Lawland kin and daddy,
Frae winters chill and summers sun
He'll screen me in his Highland plaidie.
A painted room, a silken red
Maun please a Lawland Lord and Lady,
But I can kiss and be as glad
Behind a bush in his Highland plaidie.
Nae greater joy I'll e'er pretend
Than that his love prove true and steady,
Like mine to him which ne'er shall end
Whi le heaven preserves my Highland Laddie.
Repeat CHORUS
Traditional arranged by the Tannahill Weavers (Munich Music).
Now we have a strange one. This song is dealing with a Lowland girls's love for a Highland man. She wants to run away from home with him and live in his kilt. The last statement is not as ridiculous as you may think as the plaidie and kilt were used, not only as an uniform, but as somewhere for a a travelling man to sleep. A soldier, in particular, would never fight wearing his kilt as it restricted his movement. This is also the reason why the Scots did win a few battles. If you know what is worn beneath the kilt, and, you can imagine 5,000 of them running towards you, if you would not run away, then what can we say.
AT THE END OF A POINTED GUN
William "Grit" Laskin
I've laboured through two world wars,
An old war that still fights on.
I'll dare any man says I've not worked
This land that I stand upon.
A homeland both free and strong
To harbour my only son.
I hoped he'd never see as I
The end of a pointed gun.
My nation and my son, my nation and my son
One found its birth one found his death,
At the end of a pointed gun.
Oh prasied be Olympiad
Was echoed the whole world round
Nation to nation unified
On one chosen stretch of ground.
Oh proud were the boys as mine
To play for their own country,
I wish to God he'd never gone
But stayed with his fami Iy.
My nation etc.
The games scarcely had begun
When out of each winner's joy,
Bloodshed rose unexpectedly
Eleven dead and one my boy.
How does a father mourn
His murdered hopes and dreams?
How on this earth can he escape .
The agonies he has seen?
My nation etc.
I've laboured through two world wars
An old war that stiff fights on.
I'll dare any man says I've not worked
This land my boy rests upon.
My nation etc.
Words by William Laskin (Strutting Day Music/Fogarty 's Cove Music). Melody traditional "Erev Shel Shoshanim" (Munich Music),
We first heard this song as a kind of background music to a conversation. One by one we were drawn to the beauty of the melody until, all at once, the only sound in the room was the song. "Grit" Laskin is the writer responsible for this track, having put new words to this haunting traditional melody. Grit is another very fine writer and musician from Ontario, Canada, who, as wel I as writing and singing, builds some of the finest acoustic instruments in North America.
In writing this song he has put himself in the position of being the father of one of the Israeli athletes killed at the Munich 0lympic Games. We feel that he describes perfectly the personal thoughts and feelings of a father embittered by useless violence and death. The pain and anguish felt by him at the loss of his only son should be a reminder to us all, that, no matter what colour, politics or religion you may have, the loss of a loved one is equally painful.
We sing this in the hope that one day, man will not be so ready inflict this pain on his fellow man.
THE FLOWERS OF BERMUDA
Stan Rogers
Five short hours from Bermuda
In a fine October gale.
There came the cry oh there be breakers dead ahead
From the collier Nightingale.
No sooner had the captain brought her round
Came a rending crash below.
Hard on her beamends groaning went the Nightingale
And overside her mainmast goes.
CHORUS:
He was the captain of the Nightingale
21 Days from Clyde in coal.
He could smei I the flowers of Bermuda in the gale
When he died on the north rock shoal.
Oh captain are we all for drowning
Came the cry from the crew:
The boats are smashed how are we to be saved
Now they are stove in through and through.
But are you brave and hardy collier men,
Or are you bl ind and cannot see.
The captains gig it lies before you whole and sound
It'll carry all of we.
CHORUS
Now when the crew was all assembled
And the gig prepared for sea
Twas seen there were but 18 places to be
And 19 mortal souls were we.
But says the captain now do not delay
Nor do spare a thought for me.
My duty is to save you all now if I can
See you return quick as can be.
Now there be flowers in Bermuda
And beauty I ies on every hand.
And there be laughter ease and drink for every man
But there is no joy for me.
For when we reached the wretched Nightingale
What a painful sight was plain.
The captain drowned, tangled in the mizzen chains
Smiling bravely beneath the sea.
CHORUS
Words and music by Stan Rogers (Fogarty' s Cove Music).
Another song from Stan Rogers now, telling of the ill fated journey of a coal ship sailing from the river Clyde in Scotland and ending, disastrously, on the North Rock Shoal off the coast of Bermuda. The captain gives up his own lifeboat, and life, in order to save his crew, who, on returning to the ship, discover he has gone down with the vessel.
SUMMER IN AMERICA/BIDDY FROM SLIGO
Traditional arranged by the Tannahill Weavers (Munich Music).
A slow air and a jig now, the first of which came back to us in Indiana in the summer of 1982. It is actually a traditional Gaelic air, but, in the absence of a title, and for the memories it evokes, we have given it this one. "Biddy from Sligo" is one which Alan learned and passed on to the rest of us, no doubt, during yet another merry night.
DRINK A ROUND
Bill Bourne
Wind in your hair, Lady so fair
You'll know that I'm waiting and watching
To be by your side and touched by your light
Is all that my heart needs in knowing.
It's many a mile alone with your smile
That eases my way and my wondering
And gentle as spring my heart wants to sing
To see you and love once again.
CHORUS:
Let's drink a round to the one that I've found
And though we're parted there's comfort in knowing
And if pain is a measure true love and pleasure
May we all drown in sorrow tonight.
And though I 'm blown by the wind and lost to my kind
To the cold and the lonely forever
Still my heart knows how the deep river flows
And carries us two back together.
CHORUS
Words and music by Bill Bourne (Munich Music).
To finish the album, a song from Bill. This is song which relates to us all, and we'd like to dedicate it to those special people who wait for us to come home.