Darlin’ Corey

Darlin’ Cory
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

“Darlin’ Cory” (Roud 5723) is a well-known folk song about a banjo-picking, moonshine-making mountain woman. The first known recording of it was by Clarence Gill as “Little Corey” on 6 January 1927, but it was rejected by the record company and never released.[1] A few months later, folk singer Buell Kazee recorded it as “Darling Cora” on 20 April 1927 (Brunswick 154).[2] Later the same year, it was recorded by B. F. Shelton as “Darlin’ Cora” on 29 July 1927 (Victor 35838) [3] . Other early recordings are “Little Lulie” by Dick Justice (1929) and “Darling Corey” (released as a single) by the Monroe Brothers in 1936.[4] Burl Ives recorded it on 28 May 1941[5] for his debut album Okeh Presents the Wayfaring Stranger. Since then, many artists have recorded it: Roscoe Holcomb, Doc Watson, Bruce Hornsby, The Weavers, Crooked Still, Bill Monroe,[6] Harry Belafonte (as “Darlin’ Cora,” attributed to Fred Brooks),[7], Pete Seeger, and Kingston Trio (on their album At Large, 1959).

Lyrics:

Wake [D] up, wake up darling Corey
What makes you [A] sleep so sound
The [D] revenue officers are coming
They’re gonna tear you [A] still-house [D] down

Well the first time I seen darling Corey
She was sitting by the banks of the sea
Had a forty-four around her body
And a five-string on her knee.

Go away go away darling Corey
Quit hanging around my bed
Your liquor has ruined my body
Pretty women gone to my head.

Dig a hole dig a hole in the meadow
Dig a hole in the cold damp ground
Dig a hole dig a hole in the meadow
We’re gonna lay darling Corey down.

Can’t you hear them bluebirds a-singing
Don’t you hear that mournful sound
They’re preaching darling Corey’s funeral
In some lonesome graveyard ground.

Skip To My Lou

In early America, respectable folk in Protestant communities have always regarded the fiddle as the devil’s instrument and dancing as downright sinful. Faced with such a religious prejudice for socializing, young people of the frontier developed the “play-party,” in which all the objectionable features of a square dance were removed or masked so that their grave elders could approve.
No instruments were permitted – the dancers sang and clapped their own music. In time, the play-party acquired a life of its own. It became an ideal amusement for teenagers and young married couples. In many a frontier community, the bear hunters, Indian fighters, the rough keel-boat men and the wild cowboys could be seen dancing innocently with their gals, like so many children at a Sunday school picnic.
“Skip to My Lou” is a simple game of stealing partners. It begins with any number of couples hand in hand, skipping around in a ring. A lone boy in the center of the moving circle of couple sings, “Lost my partner what’ll I do?” as the girls whirl past him. The young man in the center hesitates while he decides which girl to choose, singing, “I’ll get another one prettier than you.” When he grasps the hand of his chosen one, her partner then takes his place in the center of the ring and the game continues. It’s an ice-breaker, a good dance to get a group acquainted to one another and to get everyone in the mood for swinging around.
It’s interesting to note that “loo” is the Scottish word for “love.” The spelling change from “loo” to “lou” probably happened as our Anglo ancestors, and the song, became Americanized.

I decided that since I was allowed to play musical instruments, I would use guitar and banjo on this song.

Source: The Folk Songs of North America, by Alan Lomax, Doubleday.
Recordings on file by: Carter Family, Lead Belly, Mike & Peggy Seeger, Pete Seeger.

Lyrics:

[G] Lost my partner,

What’ll I do?

[D] Lost my partner,

What’ll I do?

[G] Lost my partner,

What’ll I do?

[D] Skip to my lou, my [G] darlin’.

[G] Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

[D] Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

[G] Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

[D] Skip to my Lou, my [G] darlin’.

I’ll get another one

Prettier than you,

I’ll get another one

Prettier than you,

I’ll get another one

Prettier than you,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Can’t get a red bird,

Jay bird’ll do,

Can’t get a red bird,

Jay bird’ll do,

Can’t get a red bird,

Jay bird’ll do,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Fly’s in the buttermilk,

Shoo, fly, shoo,

Fly’s in the buttermilk,

Shoo, fly, shoo,

Fly’s in the buttermilk,

Shoo, fly, shoo,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Cat’s in the cream jar,

Ooh, ooh, ooh,

Cat’s in the cream jar,

Ooh, ooh, ooh,

Cat’s in the cream jar,

Ooh, ooh, ooh,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Off to Texas,

Two by two,

Off to Texas,

Two by two,

Off to Texas,

Two by two,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip, skip, skip to my Lou,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin’.

Going Down The Road Feeling Bad


Artwork By Bob Dylan

Kind of a poignant traveling song. Originally done in 2/4 time, I’ve recorded it in 4/4 with lots of chiming 12-string lead guitar.
Lyrics:

[G] Going down the road feeling bad
[C] Going down the road feeling [G] bad
[C] Going down the road feeling [G] bad
[Em] Lord, [D7] I ain’t gonna be [Am] treated this [G] way

Going where the water tastes like wine
Going where the water tastes like wine
Going where the water tastes like wine
Lord, I ain’t gonna be treated this way

Going where the climate feels fine
Going where the climate feels fine
Going where the climate feels fine
Lord, I ain’t gonna be treated this way

Going where the people treat me right
Going where the people treat me right
Going where the people treat me right
Lord, I ain’t gonna be treated this way

Going down the road feeling bad
Going down the road feeling bad
Going down the road feeling bad
Lord, I ain’t gonna be treated this way

I Know Where I’m Going


Song page from the Old Town School of Folk Music circa 1957

The picture above tells the whole story. I learned this song at the Old Town School of Folk Music in the late 50s. If you right click (ctrl click for Apple) and save the image you’ll have a full scan of the page from the book I got at the Old Town School complete with notes and chords. I’m doing it in the key of F# instead of C. It’s a pretty love song for June.
Lyrics:

I know where I’m going
I know who’s going with me
I know who I love
But Dear Lord knows who I’ll marry

I have stockings of silk
Shoes of bright green leather
Combs to buckle my hair
And a ring on every finger

Feather beds are soft
And painted rooms are bonny
But I would leave them all
For my handsome winsome Johnny

Some say he’s bad
And I say he’s bonny
Fairest of them all
Is my handsome winsome Johnny

I know where I’m going
I know who’s going with me
I know who I love
But Dear Lord knows who I’ll marry

Come And Go With Me To That Land


Photo By Camilla McGuinn

This is an old Southern spiritual. I performed this with the Chad Mitchell Trio on the Bell Telephone Hour in the early 60s. We did it in this upbeat tempo. There’s a wonderful video of Dr. Bernice Johnson Reagon, Pete Seeger and Jean Ritchie singing it here. Marc Middleton, Bill Shaffer and his wife Mary stopped by to shoot video of this recording session and Mary sang backup on the track. It may be seen on http://www.growingbolder.com
Lyrics:

[G] Come and go with me to that land
[C] Come and go with me to that [G] land
Come and go with me to that land
Where I’m [D7] bound

[G] Come and go with me to that land
[C] Come and go with me to that [G] land
Come and go with me to that [D7] land
[G] Where I’m bound

All be together in that land

Be no sickness in that land

We’ll all be singing in that land

Nothing but peace in that land

Come and go with me

(c) 2008

Roger McGuinn – McGuinn Music (BMI)

Cripple Creek

So many towns boast a Cripple Creek, it’s hard to know which one this song is referring to. The famous banjo picker Bascom Lamar Lunsford mentioned in his 1927 book “30 and 1 Folksongs From the Southern Mountains” that he knew of a Cripple Creek within five minutes walking distance of his office in the Flat Iron Building in downtown Asheville, North Carolina.

Of course everyone claims their own town to be the real Cripple Creek – including the former Gold Rush town, Cripple Creek, Colorado, but the music sounds more like it came from Kentucky or North Carolina. I just sang the choruses. Instead of singing the verses, I played them as the great old Southern instrumental this is. I’ve included the verses below if you want to sing them.

There’s a nice Youtube video of Earl Scruggs and his friends doing the song as an instrumental. Click here.

Lyrics:
Cripple Creek
(Kentucky, traditional)

[G] Hey, I got a gal,
At the head of the creek,
An’ I’m goin’ up t’ see her,
‘Bout three [D] times a [G] week.

Kisses on the mouth,
Jus’ as sweet as any wine,
Wrap myself aroun’ her,
Like a sweet potato vine.

chorus:
Goin’ up Cripple Creek,
Goin’ on a run,
Goin’ up Cripple Creek,
T’ have some fun.

Goin’ up Cripple Creek,
Goin’ in a whirl,
Goin’ up Cripple Creek,
T’ see my girl.

I got a gal,
An’ she loves me,
She’s as sweet
As she can be.

She’s got eyes,
Of baby blue,
An’ her love,
Fer me is true.

chorus:

Now the girls up Cripple Creek,
‘Bout half grown,
Jump on a boy,
Like a dog on a bone.

Roll my britches,
Up to my knees,
An’ wade ol’ Cripple Creek,
When I please.

chorus:

Cripple Creek’s wide,
An’ Cripple Creek’s deep,
Gonna wade ol’ Cripple Creek,
‘Fore I sleep.

Hills are steep,
An’ the road is muddy,
An’ I’m so drunk,
I can’t stan’ steady.

chorus:
Cripple Creek’s wide,
An’ Cripple Creek’s deep,
Gonna wade ol’ Cripple Creek,
‘Fore I sleep.

Roll my britches,
To my knees,
‘An wade ol’ Cripple Creek,
When I please.

chorus:

Drive in a buggy,
That’s for me,
Watch the wheels roll,
Merrily.

Through the mud.
An’ over the stones,
Buckin’ horses,
Break good bones.

chorus:

I went down,
To Cripple Creek,
To see what them gals,
Had to eat.

Got so drunk,
I fell against the wall,
Ol’ corn likker,
Was the cause of it all.

chorus

I went down,
To Cripple Creek,
To see what them gals,
Had to eat.
What they cooked,
I couldn’t eat at all,
Harder than,
A brick in the wall.

chorus:

Blow The Man Down

Blow the Man Down originated in the Western Ocean sailing ships. The tune could have originated with German emigrants, but it is more likely derived from an African-American song Knock a Man Down. Blow the Man Down was originally a halyard shanty. A variant of this is The Black Ball Line (with a more positive view of the Blackball Line as well).

Western Ocean Law was Rule with a Fist. “Blow” refers to knocking a man down with fist, belaying pin or capstan bar. Chief Mates in Western Ocean ships were known as “blowers,” second mates as “strikers” and third mates as “greasers.”

There are countless versions of Blow the Man Down. The one here is from the Burl Ives Songbook and tells of the Blackball Line. The Black Ball Line was founded by a group of Quakers in 1818. It was the first line to take passengers on a regular basis, sailing from New York, Boston and Philadelphia on the first and sixteenth of each month. The Blackball flag was a crimson swallow-tail flag with a black ball.

The ships were famous for their fast passage and excellent seamanship. However, they were also famed for their fighting mates and the brutal treatment of seamen. (Western Ocean seamen were called “Packet Rats”). Many ships bore the name “bloodboat.” Most of the seamen hailed from New York or were Liverpool-Irish.

By 1880 the sailing ships were being replaced by steamers and the packets entered other trades or were sold.

Thanks to www.contemplator.com for this research.

Lyrics:
[C] Come all ye young fellows that follow the sea,
To my way [Am] haye, [Dm] blow the man [G7] down,
And pray pay attention and listen to me,
Give me some time to [C] blow the man down.

I’m a deep water sailor just in from Hong Kong,
to my way haye, blow the man down,
if you’ll give me some grog, I’ll sing you a song,
Give me some time to blow the man down.

‘Twas on a Black Baller I first served my time,
to my way haye, blow the man down,
And on that Black Baller I wasted my prime,
Give me some time to blow the man down.

‘Tis when a Black Baller’s preparing for sea
to my way haye, blow the man down,
You’d split your sides laughing at the sights that you see.
Give me some time to blow the man down.

With the tinkers and tailors and soljers and all
to my way haye, blow the man down,
That ship for prime seaman on board a Black Ball.
Give me some time to blow the man down.

‘Tis when a Black Baller is clear of the land,
to my way haye, blow the man down,
Our Boatswain then gives us the word of command
Give me some time to blow the man down.

“Lay aft,” is the cry,”to the break of the Poop!
to my way haye, blow the man down,
Or I’ll help you along with the toe of my boot!”
Give me some time to blow the man down.

‘Tis larboard and starboard on the deck you will sprawl,
to my way haye, blow the man down,
For “Kicking Jack” Williams commands the Black Ball.
Give me some time to blow the man down.

Pay attention to order, now you one and all,
to my way haye, blow the man down,
For right there above you flies the Black Ball.
Give me some time to blow the man down.

Old Joe Clark

This is another song that I learned at the Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago. The song originated in Irish Creek, on the Blue Ridge Parkway near South River Virginia in the early 1800s. Joe Clark had a daughter who jilted her lover. The young man is said to have written the song out of spite and jealousy.
Lyrics:
Old Joe Clark

[G] Old Joe Clark’s a fine old man
Tell you the reason why
He keeps good likker ’round his house
Good old [F] Rock and [G] Rye

[G] Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
Fare ye well, I [F] say
[G] Fare ye well, Old Joe Clark
I’m a [F] going [G] away

Old Joe Clark, the preacher’s son
Preached all over the pain
The only text he ever knew
Was High, low, Jack and the game

Old Joe Clark had a mule
His name was Morgan Brown
And every tooth in that mule’s head
Was sixteen inches around

Old Joe Clark had ayellow cat
She would neither sing or pray
She stuck her head in the butermilk jar
And washed her sins away

Old Joe Clark had a house
Fifteen stories high
And every story in that house
Was filled with chicken pie

I went down to Old Joe’s house
He invited me to supper
I stumped my toe on the table leg
And stuck my nose in the butter

Now I wouldn’t marry a widder
Tell you the reason why
She’d have so many children
They’d make those biscuits fly

Sixteen horses in my team
The leaders they are blind
And every time the sun goes down
There’s a pretty girl on my mind

Eighteen miles of mountain road
And fifteen miles of sand
If ever travel this road again
I’ll be a married man

Away Rio

On December 1, 2007 the Old Town School of Folk Music in Chicago celebrated its 50th anniversary. This is a song that I learned there 50 years ago. I love sea chanteys and this is one of my favorites! American sailors who sang this disdained any pronunciation other than “Ry oh.”
Lyrics:
[E] Have you ever been out on the [B7] Rio [E] Grande?
Away Rio
It’s [A] there that the [E] river runs down [B7] golden [E] sand
And we’re bound for the [B7] Rio [E] Grande

CH

[E] Away [B7] boys [E] away
Away Rio
So [A] fare ye [E] well my [B7] bonny young [E] girl
And we’re bound for the [B7] Rio [E] Grande

It’s pack up your sea chest and get under way
Away Rio
The girls we are leaving can take half our pay
And we’re bound for the Rio Grande

CH

Oh the anchor is weighed and the sails they are set
Away Rio
The maidens we’re leaving we’ll never forget
And we’re bound for the Rio Grande

CH

Sing good bye to Sally and sue
Away Rio
And all who are listening, it’s good bye to you
And we’re bound for the Rio Grande

O Come All Ye Faithful

In keeping with the Folk Den tradition, this is a Christmas song for December. I have wonderful memories of singing this at my grandparents’ house in Chicago with my family in the mid 50s. My grandmother and grandfather would sit at the piano and play together and we would all harmonize, while recording it on a 78 rpm vinyl disc recorder. The melody is truly captivating. Merry Christmas 2007!
Lyrics:
G] O come, all ye [D] faithful, [G] joyful and triumphant, [D]
[Em] Come ye, [D] O come ye, to [Bm] [A] Bethlehem [D]
[G] Come and [D] behold Him, [Em] born the King of [D] angels;

[G] O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
[C] O come, let us [D] adore [C] Him,
[G] Christ [D] the [G] Lord.

True God of true God, Light from Light Eternal,
Lo, he shuns not the Virgin’s womb;
Son of the Father, begotten, not created;

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation;
Sing, all ye citizens of heaven above!
Glory to God, all glory in the highest;

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

Child, for us sinners poor and in the manger,
We would embrace Thee, with love and awe;
Who would not love Thee, loving us so dearly?

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning;
Jesus, to Thee be glory given;
Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.

O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
O come, let us adore Him,
Christ the Lord.