1. |
White House Blues
03:49
|
|||
|
Mr McKinley, he didn't do no wrong,
He went on down to Buffalo, and he didn't stay too long,
Hard times, hard times, hard times.
The people all came running round to see what had been done,
"You have shot the president with your Ivor Johnson gun",
Hard times, hard times, hard times.
Doc came a'running, he'll try and save you yet,
Doc said to McKinley, "cash in your cheques",
Hard times, hard times, hard times.
McKinley he hollered, McKinley he squalled,
Doc said to McKinley, "I cannot find that ball",
Hard times, hard times, hard times.
"Look here you rascal, see what you have done",
"You have shot my husband, and now he's dead and gone",
Hard times, hard times, hard times.
Roosevelt's in the White House, drinking out of a silver cup,
McKinley's in the graveyard, he never will get up,
Hard times, hard times, hard times.
Roosevelt's in the White House, signing off his laws,
McKinley's in the graveyard, he'll never rise no more
Hard times, hard times, hard times.
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
Down in the willow garden,
As me and my true love did meet,
'Tis there we sat a'courting,
My love fell off to sleep,
I had a bottle of the Burgundy wine,
Which my true love, she did not know,
And 'tis there I poisoned that dear little girl,
Down on the banks below.
I drew my sabre through her,
Which was a bloody knife,
I threw her into the river,
Which was a awful sight,
My father often told me,
What money would set me free,
If I'd but murder that dear little girl,
Whose name was Rose Connelly.
But now he sits at his own cabin door,
Just wiping his tear-dimmed eyes,
He's weeping for his own dear son,
Up on the scaffold high,
My race is run beneath this old sun,
The Devil is waiting for me,
Since I did murder that dear little girl,
Whose name was Rose Connelly.
My race is run, beneath this old sun,
The Devil is waiting for me,
Since I did murder that dear little girl,
Whose name was Rose Connelly.
|
||||
3. |
False True Love
04:32
|
|||
|
Come in, come in, my own true love,
And stay for a while with me,
For it's been three quarters of a long year or more,
Since you've spoke one word to me.
I won't come in, I won't sit down,
For I haven't a moment's time,
And besides you're engaged to another fair love,
And your heart no longer is mine.
When you were mine, my own true love,
And your head lay on my breast,
You could make me believe by the falling of your arm,
That the sun rose up in the west.
There's many the star shall jingle in the west,
And there's many the leaves all below,
And there's many the damn that shall light upon a man,
For treating a poor girl so.
I wish to the Lord I've never been born,
Or had died when I was young,
Before I saw those pretty blue eyes,
Or I heard that lying tongue.
I never shall believe what another man says,
Though his eyes be blue or brown,
Unless he is on some scaffold to be hung,
And he says that he wants to come down.
|
||||
4. |
The Unquiet Grave
03:36
|
|||
|
Cold blows the wind o'er my true love,
Cold blow the drops of rain,
I only had but one true love,
And in green wood she lies slain,
I will do as much for my true love,
As any young man may,
I will go and weep upon her grave,
For a twelve months and a day.
Well the twelve months and a day being o'er,
The dead began to speak,
Saying who sits and weeps upon my grave,
And doesn't let me sleep?
'Tis I that sits upon your grave,
'Tis I can't let you sleep,
For I crave one kiss of your cold dead lips,
And that is all I seek.
Well you crave one kiss of my cold dead lips,
Though my breath is deathly strong,
But if you kiss these cold dead lips,
Your days will not be long,
Cold though your lips in death my love,
One kiss is all I crave,
And I care's not if i kiss but thee,
That I should share your grave.
Oh 'tis down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
There fairest flower that e'er was seen,
Is withered to the stalk,
The stalk is withered dry my love,
So must our hearts decay,
So make yourself contented love,
'Til God calls you away.
The stalk is withered dry my love,
So must our hearts decay,
So make yourself contended love,
'Til god calls you away.
|
||||
Death and the Dancer Sheffield, UK
A fast-paced, foot-tapping blend of transatlantic folk music styles, drawing unlikely inspiration from the blood-soaked popular ballad tradition and the chilling ‘Danse Macabre’ imagery of medieval Europe. Come dance away your worldly cares; when Death scrapes the bow, all folk must dance. ... more
If you like Death and the Dancer, you may also like:
Long Time To Be Gone
by Nora Brown
Nora Brown continues to bring nuance and resonance to her modern interpretation of Appalachian folk and bluegrass on her latest LP.
go to album
The Water is the Shovel of the Shore
by Shovel Dance Collective
Traditional folk music and field recordings meld into fascinating long-form sound collages on the new LP from Shovel Dance Collective.
go to album
Endurance Soundly Caged
by Stick In The Wheel
Adapting their calculated standards into a raw, live setting, the radical UK folk duo rework six highlights from their spellbindincatalogue.
go to album
Ship To Shore
by Richard Thompson
The legendary Richard Thompson's new solo album exemplifies his many musical paths, from pop and cabaret to jazz to traditional folk.
go to album
Postcards From the Country
by Trae Sheehan
West Virginia country-folk singer-songwriter Trae Sheehan aims to find a balance between the traditional and the modern on his new LP.
go to album
This album speaks to the continuum of African diasporic culture that is central to the vibrant canon of Americana folk music.
go to album
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 23, 2019
go to album
