We The People

We The People

OGR 8885

Released 1985

Chuck Romanoff--vocals, 12 string guitar, 4 string banjo, whistle

Steve Romanoff--vocals, 6 and 12 string guitars, 5 string banjo

Tom Rowe--vocals, electric bass, 6 string guitar, synthesizer

Produced by Ken Ford

Recorded at The Magic Room, E.A.B. Studios, Lewiston, Maine

Recording engineers--Ken Ford, Edward A. Boucher

Mixing engineers--Tom Rowe, Dan Martin, Edward A. Boucher

Mastered at--Frankford/Wayne Mastering Labs, New York, NY

Mastering engineer--Tom Coyne

Cover concept and design--Gail Waitkun

Photography--Donna Halvorsen

Graphics--Penmor Lithographers, Lewiston, Maine

Thanks to--Mike Pepin and his Oberheim synthesizers

Special thanks to--Vic and Reba Heyman; Russell Rowe, our road crew; and to Pam, Gail and Donna

All selections published by Outer Green Music Co. ASCAP except "Summer Roads," published by Tin Whistle Music, BMI.

Song List

We the People | Leviathan | My Heart's in Cape Breton Tonight | Summer Roads | Peggy Gordon | Portland Town | Salt Water Farm | Calgary, My Home Away From Home | Make a Friend Today | Molasses

Words and Music by Steve Romanoff

  We the people, hand in hand,
  We, the people, understand,
  That there's an answer, there's a way,
  We, the people, have to say,
  So, send the orders to prepare,
  We, the people, do declare,
  Send the good news, send the word,
  We, the people, will be heard,
  We, the people, everywhere.

There's a message in the air,
And it's a'movin' across the land,
If you listen you can hear it well, my friend,
we know the time has come
To take our heads out of the sand,
'Cause if we don't the chance might never come again,
The future is in reason,
Not in building ways of war,
And the time has come for reason to be heard,
The purpose of the people
Is what this declaration's for,
And it's why our fathers told us word for word...

We won't accept excuses,
And we won't accept the lies,
Of those who'd lead our nations into hell,
It's time to call their bluff,
To say to them, enough's enough,
It's time we all could hear the tolling of the bell,
It's time to feed the hungry,
And it's time to heal the pain,
And it's time to beat our weapons into plows,
It's time to hear the voices that have risen once again,
It's the wisdom of the people clear and loud,
Singing proud...

Words and Music by Steve Romanoff

Once upon the land,
Before the hour of Man,
Creatures who, like me and you,
Left footprints in the sand,
Through the primal mud,
Warm of milk and blood,
Returned once more unto the shore,
And to the sea for good,
The humpback, the finback, the pilot whale, too,
The right and the sperm and the blue,
Sing me hyour son that I, someday,
May sing it with you.

Leviathan, King of the sea,
Sing me your song and when I sing along,
You may share all your myst'ries with me,
Leviathan, King of the sea,
Leviathan, King of the sea.

As creatures swim and crawl,
Our kingdoms rise and fall,
We show our worth as kings of Earth
By how we treat them all.
From crocodile and crane,
To hunters on the plain,
We turn once more unto the shore
And to the sea again.
The humpback, the finback, the pilot whale, too,
The right and the sperm and the blue,
Sing me hyour son that I, someday,
May sing it with you.

Words and Music by Steve Romanoff

It's a Saturday night, and we're out on the town,
My new friends and me, all alone,
We will sing the old lovesongs,
We'll make toasts all around,
To living, to loving, to home,
Then I think of just how much I miss you,
And it seems I've been out here for years,
Then someone will play an old fiddle tune,
And I'll have to hold back the tears...

  So forgive me, my friends, if I seem far away,
  In a moment I should be all right,
  Though my hands hold me here, working day after day,
  My heart's in Cape Breton, tonight.

Since I left Nova Scotia for the work I have found,
I have kept all my memories within,
Of the warm nights and laughter in Waterford Town,
Or the lights on the causeway with the fog rollin' in.
Then I think of just how much I miss you,
And it seems I've been out here for years,
Then someone will play an old fiddle tune,
And I start to find my way home...

Tommy Makem (Tin Whistle Music, BMI)

  Summer roads, all full of turns and bends
  Summer roads, that lead to my old friends
  Summer roads by summer streams
  Where I live all my winter dreams
  And the good times always start down summer roads.

There's a blossom on the hawthorn
That scents the mornin' breeze,
And the oak and the ash and the copper beech
Are covered down with leaves,
The road is bright in the mornin' light
As it shines down from my door,
And the lark is high in the golden sky
And I'm on my way once more.

There's music all around me,
In every bush and tree,
And the old crow in the cornbreak
Keeps callin' out to me,
And the robin's song rings all day long,
To greet me as I go,
And as I pass in the roadside grass
The partridge nods hello.

In the quiet of the evening
I rosin up my bow,
Then I start in nice and easy
With something sweet and slow,
There's a faster beat in the village street
As the folks all start to sway,
And the fiddle sings and the laughter rings
And they dance 'til the break of day.

There's a corner in my memory
Where all the good times stay,
And in all my summer ramblins
There are good times every day,
'Round every bend I find a friend,
A welcome and a smile,
And pleasant hours and fields of flowers,
A memory every mile.

Trad. arr. Romanoff, Romanoff, Rowe

I'm so deep in love that I cannot deny it,
My heart lies smothered in my breast,
It's not for me to let the world know it,
A troubled heart will know no rest.

  Oh, Peggy Gordon, you are my darlin'
  Come sit ye down upon my knee,
  And tell to me the very reason,
  That I am slighted so by thee.

I lay my head on a cask of brandy,
It was my fancy I declare,
For when I'm drinkin' I'm seldom thinkin'
And wishin' Peggy Gordon was here.

I wish I were in some lonesome valley,
Where womankind can ne'er be found,
The pretty little birds do change their voices,
And every moment a different sound.

Words and Music by Steve Romanoff

  I see the light across the bay,
  I see the light not far away,
  And I hear music all around,
  I'm gettin' close to Portland Town,
  So, Mother, won't you make my bed,
  I see the light of Portland Head,
  I see the light, I'm comin' 'round,
  I'm comin' home to Portland Town.

Some years ago, out on my own,
I set a course for parts unknown,
Leavin' behind both friend and foe,
Needin' to find what I've come to know,
As I watched the islands fade away,
And bid farewell to Casco Bay,
Though it's been years and years since then,
My heart has brought me home again.

Of all the places I could go,
She's still the fairest port I know,
She works the sea and tills the farms,
And holds her children in her arms,
No place could know a prouder past,
Here comes the future full at last,
Here comes that beacon 'cross the sky,
And when I hold my head up high...

Words and Music by Tom Rowe

He was well into his sixties when I first heard Grampa's dream;
A farmhouse by the sea and some roots in the land,
He never got the farm, what he got was a machine,
In a factory at the edge of town and broken, calloused hands.
It stole away his years and the music from his ears;
And left him so he couldn't even hear the factory horn.
Still he said someday he knew he'd get his way,
And end up his days on a salt water farm.

  Salt water farm, salt water farm,
  A little bit of heaven, just a house and a barn.
  Mornins we'd go fishin', work the fields in the afternoon;
  And as the evening tide rolls in there'd be songs beneath the moon
  And later I would take you in my arms,
  And listen to the sounds of our salt water farm.

He said he'd have a cow, some chickens and a hog;
A barn filled up with hay and a boat down in the cove.
Later in the fall he'd go hunting with the dog.
Winter nights he'd sit around and read beside the stove.
Well he was always kind of poor and he could have dreamed for more,
Than a place where he would still have to work with his hands.
But that never was his way and I can still hear him say,
"Son, a man is at his best between the sea and the land."

Words and Music by Steve Romanoff

There's a faint, silver hint of a morning,
Where the mountains meet the western sky,
And I know from the glow of the dawning sun
There's more to all of this than meets the eye.
Once I was a drifter, but now I'm a dreamer,
And it's here that my dreams were meant to be,
So here for a while I miss my dear Prince Edward Isle
For a chance on the fields of Calgary.

  So tell all the folks in Alberton,
  I started coming home and then
  In Calgary I found a friend
  And took her for my own,
  And though it isn't right for me,
  To win the land and lose the sea
  I found a home in Calgary
  My home away from home.

There are times when I'm almost believing
When another weary day is at an end,
And a song rolls along on the evening air,
I can almost swear I taste your salty wind,
As I fall off to sleep with a memory,
Of your green fields in this heart of mine,
A dream can go free among the fields of Calgary,
'Til it finds its way home to the Maritimes.

If they should ask how I'm doing, I'm doing fine.
If they should ask how I happened to stay,
If they should ask, say the chance of a lifetime
Stole my heart away.

Words and Music by Steve and Chuck Romanoff

I once met a man
With such a smile upon his face,
That it seemed as though someone above
Had smiled upon the place,
And the music of his laughter,
And the magic of his smile,
Was his gentle way of reaching you
To make you feel worthwhile,
And if you asked him for the answers
To the troubles of today,
He'd only pause a moment
Before you'd hear him say

  Make a friend today,
  Make a friend today,
  Be the first to smile
  In a friendly way,
  And if your smile is returned, people
  Then you may make a friend, make a friend.

Many years have passed along,
And friends have come and gone,
But I still recall that special night
And how we carried on,
And I still recall that gentle man
Who taught us how to sing,
And how the seeds of laughter
Grow to blossoms in the spring,
And how smiles grow into friendships,
And those friendships will increase,
To bring the world together,
To bring the world to peace.

Words and Music by Tom Rowe

African Man cuts the sugar cane,
Oh Molasses
He works in the sun, he works in the rain.
Oh molasses rhum
Then he loads it up on a wooden ship,
Sends it off on a northern trip.
Oh molasses, oh molasses rhum.

  Oh molasses, Ole New England tea.
  You killed my Grampa, killed my Pa.
  And you sure as hell are a killin' me.
  Oh molasses, oh molasses rhum.

When they fought the war for the Colonies;
They fought it over New England tea.
Old King George put a tax on it,
The Colonies nearly took a fit.

In the time of the nineteen-seventeen war;
Molasses sitting on the Boston shore.
When they pumped it in it was twelve degrees,
A long cold night in a Boston freeze.

In the morning it was forty-two
Molasses vat split clean in two.
Two million gallons covered the bay
Twenty-six people drowned in the flood that day.

Grampa, he died cuttin' cane.
Pa went down in the great brown rain.
But I won't go in a pool of blood,
I won't drown in a blackstrap flood;
But still I'll go down to molasses, Oh molasses rhum.

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