Posted on 02/26/2005 1:13:23 PM PST by HairOfTheDog
I love a good lyric… imagery in words that remind us of a great character, place or state of mind, even if we've never been there. I wanted to collect and share a few classics that I think are more than a song, they do more than make you want to sing along. They tell an engaging story. These are my favorites that I could think of… I am sure you have some too. I hope you can listen to them, because though the lyrics are good, they are cold without the environment of their music.
In no particular order…
THE WRECK OF THE EDMUND FITZGERALD
Gordon Lightfoot
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they called ’Gitche Gumee’
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty.
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early.
The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship’s bell rang
Could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?
The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too,
T’was the witch of November come stealin’.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin’.
When afternoon came it was freezin’ rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind.
When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin’.
Fellas, it’s too rough to feed ya.
At seven p.m. a main hatchway caved in, he said
Fellas, it’s been good t’know ya
The captain wired in he had water comin’ in
And the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Does any one know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searches all say they’d have made whitefish bay
If they’d put fifteen more miles behind her.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
May have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters.
Lake Huron rolls, superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man’s dreams;
The islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below lake Ontario
Takes in what lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered.
In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
In the maritime sailors’ cathedral.
The church bell chimed till it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call ’Gitche Gumee’.
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early!
THE GUNNER'S DREAM
Pink Floyd (Waters)
Floating down through the clouds
Memories come rushing up to meet me now.
In the space between the heavens
and in the corner of some foreign field
I had a dream.
I had a dream.
Good-bye Max.
Good-bye Ma.
After the service when you're walking slowly to the car
And the silver in her hair shines in the cold November air
You hear the tolling bell
And touch the silk in your lapel
And as the tear drops rise to meet the comfort of the band
You take her frail hand
And hold on to the dream.
A place to stay
"Oi! A real one ..."
Enough to eat
Somewhere old heroes shuffle safely down the street
Where you can speak out loud
About your doubts and fears
And what's more no-one ever disappears
You never hear their standard issue kicking in your door.
You can relax on both sides of the tracks
And maniacs don't blow holes in bandsmen by remote control
And everyone has recourse to the law
And no-one kills the children anymore.
And no one kills the children anymore.
Night after night
Going round and round my brain
His dream is driving me insane.
In the corner of some foreign field
The gunner sleeps tonight.
What's done is done.
We cannot just write off his final scene.
Take heed of his dream.
Take heed.
THE LAST RESORT
The Eagles
She came from Providence,
The one in Rhode island
Where the old world shadows hang
Heavy in the air
She packed her hopes and dreams
Like a refugee
Just as her father came across the sea
She heard about a place people were smilin’
They spoke about the red man’s way,
And how they loved the land
And they came from everywhere
To the great divide
Seeking a place to stand
Or a place to hide
Down in the crowded bars,
Out for a good time,
Can’t wait to tell you all,
What it’s like up there
And they called it paradise
I don’t know why
Somebody laid the mountains low
While the town got high
Then the chilly winds blew down
Across the desert
Through the canyons of the coast, to
The Malibu
Where the pretty people play,
Hungry for power
To light their neon way
And give them things to do
Some rich men came and raped the land,
Nobody caught ’em
Put up a bunch of ugly boxes, and Jesus People bought ’em
And they called it paradise
The place to be
They watched the hazy sun, sinking in the sea
You can leave it all behind
And sail to Lahaina
Just like the missionaries did, so many years ago
They even brought a neon sign: ’Jesus is coming’
Brought the white man’s burden down
Brought the white man’s reign
Who will provide the grand design?
What is yours and what is mine?
’cause there is no more new frontier
We have got to make it here
We satisfy our endless needs and
Justify our bloody deeds,
In the name of destiny and the name
Of god
And you can see them there,
On Sunday morning
They stand up and sing about
What it’s like up there
They call it paradise
I don’t know why
You call someplace paradise,
Kiss it goodbye
THE DOWNEASTER ALEXA
Billy Joel
Well I’m on the Downeaster Alexa
And I’m cruising through block island sound
I have chartered a course to the vineyard
But tonight I am Nantucket bound
We took on diesel back in Montauk yesterday
And left this morning from the bell in Gardner's bay
Like all the locals here I’ve had to sell my home
Too proud to leave I worked my fingers to the bone
So I could own my Downeaster Alexa
And I go where the ocean is deep
There are giants out there in the canyons
And a good captain can’t fall asleep
I’ve got bills to pay and children who need clothes
I know there’s fish out there but where God only knows
They say these waters aren’t what they used to be
But I’ve got people back on land who count on me
So if you see my Downeaster Alexa
And if you work with the rod and the reel
Tell my wife I am trolling Atlantis
And I still have my hands on the wheel
Now I drive my Downeaster Alexa
More and more miles from shore every year
Since they told me I can’t sell no stripers
And there’s no luck in swordfishing here
I was a bayman like my father was before
Can’t make a living as a bayman anymore
There ain’t much future for a man who works the sea
But there ain’t no island left for islanders like me
ALLENTOWN
Billy Joel
Well we’re living here in Allentown
And they’re closing all the factories down
Out in Bethlehem they’re killing time
Filling out forms
Standing in line
Well our fathers fought the second world war
Spent their weekends on the jersey shore
Met our mothers in the USO
Asked them to dance
Danced with them slow
And we’re living here in Allentown
But the restlessness was handed down
And it’s getting very hard to stay
Well we’re waiting here in Allentown
For the Pennsylvania we never found
For the promises our teachers gave
If we worked hard
If we behaved
So the graduations hang on the wall
But they never really helped us at all
No they never taught us what was real
Iron and coke
And chromium steel
And we’re waiting here in Allentown
But they’ve taken all the coal from the ground
And the union people crawled away
Every child had a pretty good shot
To get at least as far as their old man got
But something happened on the way to that place
They threw an American flag in our face
Well I’m living here in Allentown
And it’s hard to keep a good man down
But I won’t be getting up today
And it’s getting very hard to stay
And we’re living here in Allentown
The mark of great art is that each of us finds meaning with it.
Just kiddin' that that song was shameful! ;~D "Guess who I saw today, my dear? " or is it shameless? hmmmmm ;~D
Wow.
I don't know what to say about the "Edmund Fitzgeralds"!
Glad and stunned to see them, though.
I like trucker songs!!!!!!!
I have no idea why, except just about all of them have a story to tell.
there's another one that I haven't heard in years, and can't remember the name of it, but it was about a little boy who was sick and all he ever wanted to do was ride in a big rig and he would talk to the truckers on the CB.......and one day he got his wish when all the truckers showed up to take him for a ride.
Very well said.
Gotta have at least one with a Highwayman in it.
This isn't too old. Has a Starship Pilot in it, too.
Artist/Band: Nelson Willie
Lyrics for Song: Highwayman
Lyrics for Album: Essential Willie Nelson
I was a highwayman. Along the coach roads I did ride
With sword and pistol by my side
Many a young maid lost her baubles to my trade
Many a soldier shed his lifeblood on my blade
The bastards hung me in the spring of twenty-five
But I am still alive.
I was a sailor. I was born upon the tide
And with the sea I did abide.
I sailed a schooner round the Horn to Mexico
I went aloft and furled the mainsail in a blow
And when the yards broke off they said that I got killed
But I am living still.
I was a dam builder across the river deep and wide
Where steel and water did collide
A place called Boulder on the wild Colorado
I slipped and fell into the wet concrete below
They buried me in that great tomb that knows no sound
But I am still around..I'll always be around..and around and around and
around and around
I fly a starship across the Universe divide
And when I reach the other side
I'll find a place to rest my spirit if I can
Perhaps I may become a highwayman again
Or I may simply be a single drop of rain
But I will remain
And I'll be back again, and again and again and again and again..
I think the novel based, sort of, on that song is called "Fire and Heather"; the author, definitely, is Diana Wynn Jones. It's not quite the same - the heroine uses the old poem as sort of a key to what's going on. Takes about two reads to figure out what happened.
I think that one about the little boy was a Christmas song of some sort.
I've heard of that author..........Thanks
More starships. And Space Colonists.
Queen
'39
(lyrics by Brian May)
Words and music by brian may
’in the year of thirty-nine’
Assembled here the volunteers
In the days when lands were few
Here the ship sailed out into the blue and sunny morn
The sweetest sight ever seen
And the night followed day
And the story tellers say
That the score brave souls inside
For many a lonely day
Sailed across the milky seas
Never looked back never feared never cried
Don’t you hear my call
Though you’re many years away
Don’t you hear me calling you
Write your letters in the sand
For the day I’ll take your hand
In the land that our grand-children knew
’in the year of thirty-nine’
Came a ship from the blue
The volunteers came home that day
And they bring good news
Of a world so newly born
Though their hearts so heavily weigh
For the earth is old and grey
Little darlin’ we’ll away
But my love this cannot be
Oh so many years have gone
Though I’m older than a year
Your mothers eyes from your eyes cry to me
Don’t you hear my call
Though you’re many years away
Don’t you hear me calling you
Write your letters in the sand
For the day I’ll take your hand
In the land that our grand-children knew
Don’t you hear my call
Though you’re many years away
Don’t you hear me calling you
All your letters in the sand
Cannot heal me like your hand
For my life still ahead pity me
I was thinking of a different one, called Tam Lin by Pamela Dean. Hadn't heard of the other one...
Thanks, Knitting:
Here'a another Oldie but Goodie.
KOZMIK DEBRIS (Frank Zappa)
The Mystery Man came over
And he said, "I'm outta sight!"
He said for a nominal service charge,
I could reach Nirvana, tonight.
If I was ready, willing and able
To pay him his Regular Fee.
He would drop all the rest
Of his Pressing Affairs
And devote his attention to me.
But I said, "Look here, brother.
Who are you jiving with that Kozmik Debris?"
The Mystery Man looked nervous
And fidget around a bit.
He reached in the pocket of his
Mystery Robe and whipped out a Shaving Kit.
Inside, there was a razor
And a can of foaming goo.
With the Oil of Aphrodite
And the dust of The Grand Wazoo.
He told me right there as the top popped open
There was nothing this box won't do.
But I said, "Look here, brother.
Who are you jiving with that Kozmik Debris?"
"BUT I'VE GOT THE CRYSTAL BALL!!" he said.
As he held it to the light.
So, I snatched it all away from him
And showed him How To Do It Right!
I wrapped a newspaper round my head
So I looked like I was Beat.
I said some Mumbo~Jumbo and told him
He was going to sleep.
I stole his rings and his pocket watch
And everything else I found!
I had that sucka hypnotized.
He couldn't even make a sound!
I proceeded to tell him his future then
As long as he was hanging around, I said.
"The price of meat has just gone up
And your ol' lady has just gone down!!!
"Now, just what kind of a guru are you, anyway?
I mean, is that a real poncho, or a Sears poncho?
Don't you know you can make more money as a Butcher?
So don't you waste your time on me!"
Jack.
Huh... so there are two novels, at least, based on that ballad. And I'm almost positive I've seen other versions of it too. Some of it's standard fairy-tale imagery, particularly the bit where the True Love is transformed into different shapes and the girl just has to hold on - isn't that in "East of the Sun, West of the Moon"? Or I might be confusing it with something else.
Just about a hundred years or so ago
ten men rode their way down the mighty Colorado
and as I read about their journey
I couldn't help but feel a very similar yearning
to Mr. Powell
and I wish that I could have been there with him
The way he talked about the river, I could tell
the revelations he must have felt within himself,
the realization of what man's supposed to do,
I feel it too
as they would ride over the waves
as they would glide over the waves
The river forged its way through canyons
that were so high that the clouds would float within them
cascade fountains moss surrounded
on through a gorge grand beyond description
and the river rolls
and like a whirlpool it sets my mind to spinnin'
Can you imagine walls that went so high
the sky would be nothing more than a single thin blue line
and rocks would rainbow their way up to the sky
As they would ride over the waves
as they would glide over the waves
you'd hear them singing, singing
Shel Silverstein wrote "A Boy Names Sue"? LOL!! He's one of Clare's favorite poets!
I have a couple of Steeleye Span CD's but I never got anything by Pentangle. I'll have to remedy that! Also need to get some Silly Wizard.
Not the one I'm thinking about, I don't think.......it'll come to me eventually.......after I lose a few nights sleep about it and then can't find this thread!!!!
Here's an interesting version of Tom Dooley that Doc Watson did, different than the too cheerful version the Kingston Trio did:
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
You left her by the roadside
Where you begged to be excused;
You left her by the roadside,
Then you hid her clothes and shoes.
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
You took her on the hillside
For to make her your wife;
You took her on the hillside,
And ther you took her life.
You dug the grave four feet long
And you dug it three feet deep;
You rolled the cold clay over her
And tromped it with your feet.
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
"Trouble, oh it's trouble
A-rollin' through my breast;
As long as I'm a-livin', boys,
They ain't a-gonna let me rest.
I know they're gonna hang me,
Tomorrow I'll be dead,
Though I never even harmed a hair
On poor little Laurie's head."
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
"In this world and one more
Then reckon where I'll be;
If is wasn't for Sheriff Grayson,
I'd be in Tennesee.
You can take down my old violin
And play it all you please.
For at this time tomorrow, boys,
Iit'll be of no use to me."
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
"At this time tomorrow
Where do you reckon I'll be?
Away down yonder in the holler
Hangin' on a white oak tree.
Hang your head, Tom Dooley,
Hang your head and cry;
You killed poor Laurie Foster,
And you know you're bound to die.
Hmmmmmmmmm
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