Day of the Clipper
OGR 8878 | Released 1978
We cordially welcome you aboard to share the excitement of adventure, the romance of the sea and the intimacy of a ballad sung out of love.
This presentation includes songs of a primarily traditional maritime flavor whose beauty and richness have withstood the test of time. Day of the Clipper, written by Steve, recalls the magnificent merchant sailing vessels whose speed and grace once dominated the seas and whose memory lives on. Bygone days of a lad at sea are remembered in Ewan MacColl's Shoals of Herring while Twa Recruiting Sergeants beckon yesterday's youth to leave home and hearth for promises of adventure, perhaps to seek their fortune Far Away in Australia mindful, however, that The Drunken Sailor still has his penance to pay.
We further present songs with the air and carriage only found in traditional music...the manic 15th century Italian madrigal So Well I Know Who's Happy, and the tragic tale of The Butcher Boy. Ralph McTell's Streets of London relates a traditional theme in a contemporary setting.
Neither traditional nor picaresque are two other original songs included at the encouragement of many loved ones who are very much a part of this production. Teach Your Children to Sing, written by Steve, is dedicated to families the world over, while Between the Lines, written by Tom, is for lovers of all ages.
As is our custom, we do indeed ask Will Ye No Come Back Again, tip a glass and enjoy the warmth of good company.
Steve Romanoff--vocals, classical and twelve-string guitars, five-string banjo
Chuck Romanoff--vocals, twelve-string guitar, four-string banjo
Tom Rowe--vocals, electric bass
Recorded at Clockwerke Studios, Auburn, Maine
Mastering Engineer--Tom Steele
Mix-Down Engineer--Tom Rowe
Cover Concept and Photography--Steve Romanoff
Cover Layout--Lynn Shackleton
Original Watercolor--Antionette Jackman
Special thanks to--the Schooner Fare Singers and Dancers, Corporal Steve Eames (71st Regiment, Fraser's Highlanders), Many other loved ones to numerous to enumerate.
Dedicated to John Allan Cameron.
Far Away in Australia | The Butcher Boy | Twa Recruiting Sergeants | Between the Lines | Day of the Clipper | The Drunken Sailor | So Well I Know Who's Happy | Shoals of Herring | Teach Your Children to Sing | Streets of London | Will Ye No Come Back Again
FAR AWAY IN AUSTRALIA trad. arr. Schooner Fare And it's far away in Australia Soon will fate be kind And I will be ready to welcome at last The girl that I left behind. "Sweetheart, this time I must bid you goodbye," Murmured the youth one day, "I'm off to a new land my fortune to try And I'm ready to sail away." "Oh, must you depart now," this fair one did cry, "I cannot let you go." "Oh, yes, I must leave you," he gently replied, "Just for a while or so." Sadly she waits by the old cottage gate, Waiting the whole day through Until a message comes over the wire And she's hoping these words are true. "Oh, it's been successful and fair, love, I will be always true, And while I stay in this land far away, I'll be building a home for you." THE BUTCHER BOY trad. arr. Schooner Fare In Dublin City, where I did dwell, A butcher boy I loved right well. He courted me my life away But now with me he will not stay. I wish, I wish, I wish in vain, I wish I were a maid again. But a maid again, I ne'er will be 'Til cherries grow on an ivy tree. I'm wishin' my baby it was born, And smiling on his daddy's knee, This wee poor girl would be dead and gone With the tall green grass all over me. She went upstairs to go to bed, And turning to her mother said, "Give me a chair 'til I sit down, And a pend and ink 'til I write down." With every word she dropped a tear, With every line, cried "Willie dear, Oh, what a foolish girl was I, To be led astray by a butcher boy." He went upstairs, through the door he broke, He found her hanging from a rope. He took his knife and he cut her down, And in her pocket these words he found. "Oh, make my grave large, wide and deep. Put a marble stone at my head and feet, And in the middle a turtle dove, That the world may know I died for love." TWA RECRUITING SERGEANTS Trad. arr. Schooner Fare For it's over the mountain and over the main, Through Gibralter to France and Spain, It's a feather to your bonnet and a kilt a'been your knee, So 'list bonnie laddie and come awa with me. Now twa recruitin' sergeants come frae the Black Watch, Through markets and fairs some recruits for to catch, And all that they 'listed was forty and twa, So 'list, bonnie laddie, and come awa. Now laddie I dinna ken the danger that you're in If your horse was to flag and your house was to ruin This greedy old fair man'll wi nay pay your fee, So 'list, bonnie laddie, and come awa with me. For it's out by the barn and in by the byre, This old fair man thinks you'll never tire, For it's a slavery job of low degree So 'list, bonnie laddie, and come awa with me. Now laddie, if you've got a sweetheart and a bairn, You'll easily be rid of that ill spun yairn Twa rattles on the drum and that'll beg us off. So list, bonnie laddie, and come awa. BETWEEN THE LINES Tom Rowe When I talk about time, no answer do I gain; And reading between the lines brings only this refrain; That time is an entity that no one hears and no one sees, And time is the enemy moving closer to me when all I wanted to be was closer to you. When I speak of love, you always ask me, "why?" Why must I speak of love: Yet love is in your eyes. And love is eternal light glowing in the night that always Comes out right and love is the power and might that gives me sight, Makes me fight my way closer to you. When I talk about time, you always ask me "why?" And reading between the lines I can see the love that's written in your eyes. And time is an entity that no one hears and no one sees, And love is eternal light glowing in the night that always Comes out right and love is the power and might that gives me sight Makes me fight my way closer to you. DAY OF THE CLIPPER Steve Romanoff You can see the squares of canvas dancing over the horizon, You can hear the chanty wailing to the heaving of the men, You can feel the seas up to your knees and you know the sea is risin' And you know the clipper's day has come again. To the men on high the bos'n's cry commands a killing strain, 'Til every mother's son begins to pray. With a hearty shout she comes about and she heads into the rain, And the ship has never seen a better day. Sailing ships and sailing men will sail the open water, Where the only thing that matters is the wind inside the main. So all you loving mothers keep your eyes upon your daughters; For the sails will mend their tatters and the masts will rise again. Wooden beams and human dreams are all that make her go; And the magic of the wind upon her sails. We'd rather fight the weather than the fishes down below; God help us if the rigging ever fails. As the timber creaks the captain speaks above the vessel's groans 'Til every soul on board can hear the call. It's nothing but the singing of the ship inside her bones, And this is when she likes it best of all. Where the current goes the clipper's nose is plowing fields of green. Where fortune takes the crews we wish them well. Where men could be when lost at sea is somewhere in between The regions of a heaven and a hell. Well they're sailing eastern harbors and the California shore; If you set your mind to see them then you can. As you count each mast go sailing past you, prouder than before, Then you'll know the clipper's day has come again. THE DRUNKEN SAILOR Trad. arr. Schooner Fare What shall we do with a drunken sailor? What shall we do with a drunken sailor? What shall we do with a drunken sailor? Early in the morning. Way hey and up she rises, Way hey and up she rises, Way hey and up she rises, Early in the morning. Put him in the longboat 'til he's sober. Shave his belly with a rusty razor. Tie him to the wheel and call him captain. Throw him in the rack with the captain's daughter. SO WELL I KNOW WHO'S HAPPY Oracchio Vecchi (arr. Schooner Fare) So well I know who's happy, Too well I know who's happy, Fa la la la la la la la la la. So well I know who's happy, Too well I know who's happy, Fa la la la la la la la la la. But I'll not have it so, I will not have it so, Fa la la la la la la la la la. But I'll not have it so, I will not have it so, Fa la la la la la la la la la. So well I know who's favored, Too well I know who's favored, Fa la la la la la la la la la. So well I know who's favored, Too well I know who's favored, Fa la la la la la la la la la. But ah, I cannot say, Alas, I cannot say, Fa la la la la la la la la la. But ah, I cannot say, Alas, I cannot say, Fa la la la la la la la la la. Oh, if could but say now, If I could only say now, Fa la la la la la la la la la. Oh, if could but say now, If I could only say now, Fa la la la la la la la la la. Who comes, who goes, who stays, Who goes, who comes, who stays Fa la la la la la la la la la. Who comes, who goes, who stays, Who goes, who comes, who stays Fa la la la la la la la la la. SHOALS OF HERRING Ewan MacColl (Stormking Music Co. PRS) Oh, it was a fine and a pleasant day, Out of Yarmouth harbor I was farin' As a cabin boy on a sailin' lugger, For to go and hunt the shoals of herring. Oh, the work was hard and the hours were long, And the treatment, sure, it took some bearin' There was little kindness and the kicks were many, As we hunted for the shoals of herring. Oh, we fished the Swarthe and the Broken Bank, I was cook and I'd a quarter sharin' And I used to sleep standin' on my feet, And I'd dream about the shoals of herring. Oh, we left the home grounds in the month of June, And to canny Shields we soon was bearin' With a hundred cran of the silver darlins That we'd taken from the shoals of herring. Now you're up on deck, you're a fisherman, You can swear and show a manly bearin' Take your turn on watch with the other fellows, While you're searchin' for the shoals of herring. In the stormy seas and livin' gales, Just to earn your daily bread you're darin' From the Dover Straits to the Faroe Islands As you're following the shoals of herring. Well, I earned me keep and I paid me way, And I earned the gear what I was wearin' Sailed a million miles, caught ten million fishes, We were sailin' after shoals of herring. TEACH YOUR CHILDREN TO SING Steve Romanoff Somewhere between your noon hour and alarm clock setting day, If you are lucky, must be lucky, but we're all lucky anyway, Set aside your routine pleasures for this most important thing, And take the time to teach your children to sing. Oh, you know it's not like working and the kids will call it play, And as you teach them, they will teach you, we're all teachers in a way. Set aside your routine pleasures sit together in a ring, And take the time to teach your children to sing. Now I know what you are thinking, he's a dreamer, he's a fool, I can't even sing myself, they used to keep me after school; But if the parent is the playmate and the playground is your mind, Take a lesson from the piper, kids choose music every time. Before the fighting, or the silence that they find when they're at home, And when they grow they turn to battle, or find some way to be alone; Away from life, away from loving, away from nearly everything That gives us all our own good reason to sing. No, it won't take away your sorrows or be a cure-all for your pain, It won't end all wars tomorrow, or bring all the deserts rain, But if we start now with our children, while we still have got the time, They'll be much less apt to quarrel when a song is on their minds. Somewhere, somewhere, between your noon hour and alarm clock setting day, If you are lucky, must be lucky, but we're all lucky every day, Set aside your routine pleasures for this most important thing, And take the time to teach your children, Take the time to teach your children, Take the time to teach our children to sing. STREETS OF LONDON Ralph McTell (Essex Music Int., NY, ASCAP) Have you seen the old man down by the closed down market Kicking up papers with old, worn out shoes, In his eyes you see no pride, And held so loosely by his side, Yesterday's papers, yesterday's news. And how can you say that you're lonely, And say for you the sun don't shine. Let me take you by the hand And lead you through the streets of London I'll show you somethin' to make you change your mind. Have you seen the old girl who walks the streets of London Dirt in her hair and her clothes all in rags, She's got no time for talkin' She just keeps right on walkin' Carrying her home in two carrier bags. In the all-night cafe and a quarter past eleven, Same old man sitting there all on his own. Gazing at the world Past the rim of his teacup Each tea lasts an hour, then he wanders on alone. Have you seen the old man down by the seaman's mission, Memory fading like the medals that he wears, In our winter city The rain cries little pity One more forgotten hero in a world that doesn't care. WILL YE NO COME BACK AGAIN Trad. arr. Schooner Fare Will ye no come back again, Will ye no come back again, Better loved ye canna be, Will ye no come back again? Bonnie Charlie's new awa, Safely o'er the friendly main, And many's the heart would break in twa, Should ye no come back again. You trusted in your highland men. They trusted you, dear Charlie. They kenned you were hidin' in the glen, Death or exile bravin' Though sweet the lawrock's note, and lang, Lilting wildly up the glen, But, ah, to me he sings this sang Will ye no come back again?