Colorado Trail, The

A cowboy love song. All sources point to a cowboy from Duluth, MN whose name is unknown. He was brought to the hospital after being thrown and trampled by what he called ‘a terribly bad hoss.’ A surgeon, Dr. T.L. Chapman, treated the wrangler for ‘bones of both upper and lower legs broken, fractures of the collar bone on both sides, numerous fractures of both arms and wrists, and many scars from lacerations.’

As the unknown cowboy convalesced and his strength returned, he sang across the hospital ward in a mellowed tenor voice, and the other patients always called for more. One of the songs he sang was Colorado Trail.

Camilla and I have added two new verses to the traditional first verse. I chose this song because we’ll be driving from Florida to Colorado in April to play a concert at the King Center for the Performing Arts on the Auraria Campus, in Denver on April 5th.

Lyrics:
D G D

Eyes like a morning star

G D

Cheeks like a rose

D G D

Laura was a pretty girl

G A

Everybody knows

D G D

Weep all you little rains

G D

Wail, winds, wail

D G D G

All along, along along

Em D

The Colorado trail.

Saddle up my dapple-gray

The sky still red with dawn

Keep a steady pace all day

Singing my sweet song

Riding through the purple hills

Just like Roy and Dale

All along, along along

The Colorado trail.

I’m going to find a silver mine

Then I’ll stake my claim

Send it all to Laura

Shower her like rain

Hurry back on home to her

Speeding o’er the rail

All along, along along

The Colorado trail.

© 2001 McGuinn Music – Traditional / New lyrics by

C. McGuinn, R. McGuinn

Catch The Greenland Whale

I first heard this song on a whaling album. I’ve tried to keep as close to the original as possible, including the key and tempo.

The banjo is tuned in an open Dm tuning, and the 12-string is playing melody. It’s all in Dm.

Lyrics:
On the [Am] twenty-third of [Em] March, my boys,
We [Am] hoisted our [Em] topsail,
Crying, [Am] ‘Heav’n above [Em] protect us
With a sweet and a [D] pleasant [Em] gale.’
We never was down-[Am] hearted
Nor let our courage [Em] fail
But [Am] bore away up to [Em] Greenland
For to catch the [D] Greenland [Em] whale,
For to catch the [D] Greenland [Em] whale.

And when we came to Greenland
Where the bitter winds did blow,
We tacked about all in the north
Among the frost and snow.
Our finger-tops were frozen off,
And likewise our toe-nails,
As we crawled on the deck, my boys,
Looking out for the Greenland whale
Looking out for the Greenland whale.

And when we came to Davis Strait
Where the mountains flowed with snow,
We tacked about all in the north
Till we heard the whalefish blow.
And when we catch that whale, brave boys,
Homeward we will steer.
We’ll make them valleys ring, my boys,
A-drinking of strong beer.
We’ll make them lofty alehouses
In London town to roar;
And when our money is all gone,
To Greenland go for more,
To Greenland go for more.

The Riddle Song

I wonder if this song from the 17th Century inspired the following poem by Walt Whitman?

A Riddle Song
By Walt Whitman
1819-1892

That which eludes this verse and any verse,
Unheard by sharpest ear, unform’d in clearest eye or cunningest mind,
Nor lore nor fame, nor happiness nor wealth,
And yet the pulse of every heart and life throughout the world incessantly,
Which you and I and all pursuing ever ever miss,
Open but still a secret, the real of the real, an illusion,
Costless, vouchsafed to each, yet never man the owner,
Which poets vainly seek to put in rhyme, historians in prose,
Which sculptor never chisel’d yet, nor painter painted,
Which vocalist never sung, nor orator nor actor ever utter’d,
Invoking here and now I challenge for my song.

Indifferently, ‘mid public, private haunts, in solitude,
Behind the mountain and the wood,
Companion of the city’s busiest streets, through the assemblage,
It and its radiations constantly glide.

In looks of fair unconscious babes,
Or strangely in the coffin’d dead,
Or show of breaking dawn or stars by night,
As some dissolving delicate film of dreams,
Hiding yet lingering.

Two little breaths of words comprising it,
Two words, yet all from first to last comprised in it.

How ardently for it!
How many ships have sail’d and sunk for it!

How many travelers started from their homes and neer return’d!
How much of genius boldly staked and lost for it!
What countless stores of beauty, love, ventur’d for it!
How all superbest deeds since Time began are traceable to it–and
shall be to the end!
How all heroic martyrdoms to it!
How, justified by it, the horrors, evils, battles of the earth!
How the bright fascinating lambent flames of it, in every age and
land, have drawn men’s eyes,
Rich as a sunset on the Norway coast, the sky, the islands, and the cliffs,
Or midnight’s silent glowing northern lights unreachable.

Haply God’s riddle it, so vague and yet so certain,
The soul for it, and all the visible universe for it,
And heaven at last for it.

Lyrics:
The Riddle Song

[G] I gave my love a [C] cherry that has no [G] stone,
I [D] gave my love a [G] chicken that has no [D] bone,
I gave my love a [G] ring that has no [D] end,
I [C] gave my love a [Am] baby with [C] no [G] crying.

How can there be a cherry that has no stone?
How can there be a chicken that has no bone?
How can there be a ring that has no end?
How can there be a baby with no crying?

A cherry, when it’s blooming, it has no stone,
A chicken when it’s pipping, it has no bone,
A ring when it’s rolling, it has no end,
A baby when it’s sleeping, has no crying.

Traditional

Stewball

Stewball.jpg

This is the original text of Stewball from an early printed version that appeared in an American song book dated 1829.

Sometime around 1790 a race took place on the curragh of Kildare (near Dublin) between a skewbald horse owned by Sir Arthur Marvel and 'Miss Portly', a gray mare owned by Sir Ralph Gore. The race seemed to take the balladmakers' fancies, and must have been widely sung.

Lyrics:
[G] Stewball was a good horse
He wore a high [Am] head
And the mane on his [D] foretop
Was fine as silk [G] thread

I rode him in England
I rode him in Spain
He never did lose, boys
He always did gain

So come all you gamblers
Wherever you are
And don't bet your money
On that little grey mare

Most likely she'll stumble
Most likely she'll fall
But you never will lose, boys
On my noble Stewball

As they were a-riding
'Bout halfway around
That grey mare she stumbled
And fell to the ground

And away out yonder
Ahead of them all
Came a prancin' and a dancin'
My noble Stewball

Twelve Days of Christmas, The

What is a ‘colly-bird’ in the context of the traditional English song ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’?

‘On the fourth day of Christmas my true love sent to me four colly-birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.’

The first edition of the Oxford English Dictionary published the section covering ‘colly’ in October 1891. It reveals that ‘colly’ is, or was, an old English word meaning black, from ‘coal’. And, it says, a ‘colly-bird’ is the Blackbird.

Lyrics:
[D] On the (first) day of Christmas my [A] true love sent to [D] me
Twelve lords leaping
Eleven ladies dancing
Ten pipers piping
Nine drummers drumming
Eight maids milking
Seven swans swimming
Six geese laying
[D] Five [E] gold [A] rings
[A] Four colly birds
[A] Three French hens
[A] Two turtle doves and
A [D] partridge [A] in a pear [D] tree

Makes A Long Time Man Feel Bad

When I worked for Bobby Darin in 1962, he and I used to do this song. I would play my 12-string guitar doing this rather fast lick and Bobby always wanted it a little faster. Twin spotlights lit the center of the stage. Bobby was on the mic to my left. We performed this as a folk duo with me singing the high harmony.
Lyrics:
Dm C Dm

Makes a long time man feel bad

Dm C Dm

Makes a long time man feel bad

Dm C G F

Can’t get no letters, can’t even roam

Dm C Dm

Makes a long time man feel bad

Alberta let your hair grow long

Alberta let your hair grow long

Let it grow on down till it reaches the ground

Alberta let your hair grow long

I’d walk five hundred miles

I’d walk five hundred miles

I’d walk five hundred miles good Lord

If they’d let me go on home

Well sure my mama must be gone

Well sure my mama must be gone

Well sure my mama must be gone good Lord

Makes a long time man feel bad

Makes a long time man feel bad good Lord

Makes a long time man feel bad

© 2000 McGuinn Music / Roger McGuinn

Coffee Grows On White Oak Trees

Coffee.gif

This is a Southwestern play-party song. Play party songs were designed to protect young people from the evil business of square dancing. Any number of couples would join hands and form a ring. The ladies would march around a single man and sing the first part of the song at a slow tempo. The man would chose a partner from the ring and the dancers would skip around them singing 'Two in the middle and I can't dance Josie.' This would continue until all couples were In the center. They would swing left and Right.
Lyrics:
[D] Coffee grows on white [Bm] Oak trees
[D] The river flows with [Em] brandy –O[A]
[D] Go choose someone to [Bm] roam with you
[Em] Sweet as lasses [A] candy –O
[D] Two in the middle and I [Bm] can't dance Josie
[D] Two in the middle and I [C] can't get [A] around
[D] Two in the middle and I [Bm] can't dance Josie
[G] Hello [A] Susan [D] Brown

Four in the middle and I can’t dance Josie
Four in the middle and I can’t get around
Four in the middle and I can’t dance Josie
Hello Susan Brown
[D] Railroad, [F#m] steamboat, [Bm] river and [G] canal
I lost my [Em] true love on that [A] ragin’ canal [D]
[D] O she’s gone, gone, gone,
O she’s gone, gone, gone, [A]
O she’s gone on that ragin’ [D] canal (X2)

Fiddler’s drunk and I can’t dance Josie
Fiddler’s drunk and I can’t get around
Fiddler’s drunk and I can’t dance Josie
Hello Susan Brown

Cow in the well and can't jump Josie
Cow in the well and can't get around
Cow in the well and can't jump Josie
Hello Susan Brown

Railroad, steamboat, river and canal
I lost my true love on that ragin' canal
O she's gone, gone, gone,
O she's gone, gone, gone,
O she's gone on that ragin’ canal
(X2)

Cumberland Mountain Bear Chase

Bear.jpg

In the late 60's Peter Fonda would call me up and say, 'Jim, would you come over with your banjo, Justin wants to hear that song about Old Blue again.' I'd drive over the hill to Peter's house and jam a little, and play this song for his son.
Lyrics:
Well once upon a time there was a little boy.
And he wanted to go hunting with his pop and the
hound dogs. He said, 'Dad, can I go hunting with
you and the hound dogs?' Father said, 'No, son
I'm sorry but your legs are much too short. You
could never keep up with us. Awe the little boy
pleaded with his father, he said, 'Oh please dad,
can I go hunting with you and the hound dogs?'
'I'm sorry son, you're just too small to go with us.'
Well the little boy kept on pleading. He said, 'What
if I brought Old Blue along? That way if I got lost he
could come and find me.' Well his father thought about
it for a second, he said, 'OK son, you bring Old Blue,
then you can come along.' So they were off! Over
the hills and down through the meadow. Little boy
was keeping up pretty well too! And Old Blue was right
out there in front. Oh they started to get a little further away,
but the little boy wasn't worried, cause he had Old Blue with
him. And they got a little further away. Finally they were
so far off there that he could hardly hear 'em anymore.
So he pulled out his horn and called for Old Blue.
'Old Blue, where are you?'
But all he could hear were the
crickets, and an old bullfrog in the pond.
He tried one more time.
'Old Blue, where are you?'
Just the crickets, and the bullfrog.
It was getting cold outside now, he
wasn't sure what he was going to do, he tried one more time.

'Old Blue, where are you?'
And he thought he heard somethingway off in the distance. He wasn't sure what it was,
But it was Old Blue, and here they come!
Way away we're bound for the mountain
Bound for the mountain
Bound for the mountain
Over the hills the field and fountain
Today we chase away
Rover Rover see 'em see 'em
Rover Rover catch 'em catch 'em
Way away we're bound for the mountain
Today we chase away

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