If the river was whisky and I was a duck
I'd dive to the bottom and I'd never come up
Tell me how long have I got to wait?
Can I get you now, or must I hesitate?
If the river was whisky and the branch was vine
You'd see me in bed most all of the time
Tell me how long have I got to wait?
Can I get you now, or must I hesitate?
I was born in Alabama, raised in Tennessee
You don't like my peaches, don't you shake my tree
Tell me how long have I got to wait?
Can I get you now, or must I hesitate?
Two old maids sitting in the sand
Each one a-wishing that the other was a man
Tell me how long have I got to wait?
Can I get you now, or must I hesitate?
I was born in England, schooled in France
If you want to know more best ask my parents
Tell me how long have I got to wait?
Can I get you now, or must I hesitate?
I'm standing on the corner with a dollar in my hand
Looking for a woman who's looking for a man
Tell me how long have I got to wait?
Can I get you now, or must I hesitate?
I got the hesitation stockings, hesitation shoes
I really do believe I've got the hesitation blues
Guitar chords for Hesitation Blues
A7
If the river was whisky and I was a duck
I'd dive to the bottom and I'd never come up
D7 A7
Tell me how long have I got to wait?
E7 A7
Can I get you now, or must I hesi-tate?
Kookaburra sits on the old gum tree
Merry merry king of the bush is he
Laugh, Kookaburra, laugh, Kookaburra
Gay your life must be
Oh, it was a fine and a pleasant day
Out of Yarmouth Harbour I was faring
As a cabin boy on a sailing 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 bearing
There was little kindness, and the kicks were many
As we hunted for the shoals of herring
Oh, we've fished the Swarth and the Broken Bank
I was cook and I'd a quarter sharing
And I used to sleep standing on me feet
And I'd dream about the shoals of herring
Oh we left the home grounds in the month of June
And for Canny Shields we soon was faring
With a hundred cran of the silver darlings
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 bearing
Take your turn on watch with the other fellows
While you're searching for the shoals of herring
In the stormy seas and the living gales
Just to earn your daily bread you're daring
From the Dover Straits to the Faroe Islands
While you're following the shoals of herring
Oh, I earned my keep and I paid my way
And I earned the gear that I was wearing
Sailed a million miles, caught ten million fishes
We were sailing after shoals of herring
One Monday morning I woke up late
I saw a little monkey outside me gate
I went outside to investigate
The monkey was doing the latest dance craze
I don't know what to say the monkey won't do
I don't know what to say the monkey won't do
When I do the twist monkey twist it too
I don't know what to say the monkey won't do
When I do the twist monkey twist it too
I don't know what to say the monkey won't do
One Tuesday morning I woke up late...
From Derrick Harriott’s Monkey Ska, based on a folk song from NW Africa
Oh freedom, oh freedom, oh freedom over me
And before I'll be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
No more mourning, no more mourning, no more mourning over me
And before I'll be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
There'll be singing, there'll be singing, there'll be singing over me
And before I'll be a slave I'll be buried in my grave
And go home to my Lord and be free
The Huntsman blew loud on his horn
Blew loud on his horn
And all that he blew it was lost and gone
Was lost and gone
Ta-ri-a hars ars-ah, Tira-la-la
Was lost and gone
Shall all my blowings be just forlorn
Be just forlorn
Far better were I no huntsman born
No huntsman born
Ta-ri-a hars ars-ah, Tira-la-la
No huntsman born
He cast his net the bush about
The bush about
A nut brown damsel sprung quickly out
Sprung quickly out
Ta-ri-a hars ars-ah, Tira-la-la
Sprung quickly out
Oh nut brown damsel escape me not
Escape me not
I have great big hounds that will fetch thee hot
Fetch thee hot
Ta-ri-a hars ars-ah, Tira-la-la
Fetch thee hot
Thy great big hounds they will fetch me not
My high mighty leapings they know them not
Thy high mighty leapings they know full well
They know that today death thee must fell
Well if I die then I'll be dead
O bury me deep 'neath the roses red
And under the lilies and roses red
I'll sleep for ever, in my last bed
And on her grave three lilies grew
A squire rode by and would pluck the few
Guitar chords for The Huntsman
G C G
The Huntsman blew loud on his horn
D G
Blew loud on his horn
C G
And all that he blew it was lost and gone
D G
Was lost and gone
G D
Ta-ri-a hars ars-ah, Tira-la-la
G Em D D7 G
And all that he blew it was lost and gone
White sands and grey sands
Who'll buy my white sands?
Who'll buy my grey sands?
A bold young farmer courted me
He stole my love and my liberty
He stole my love and my liberty
And I must confess that I love him still
I wish, I wish, but it's all in vain
I wish I was a sweet maid again
But a maid, a maid I'll never be
'Till apples grow out of an orange tree
And now I wish my baby was born
And sitting on his Daddy's knee
And me poor maid was dead and gone
The green grass growing over me
There sits a bird in yonder tree
They say he's blind and cannot see
But I that bird would rather be
Since that bold farmer courted me
Here's one, two, three jolly lads all in one mind
We are come a pace egging and I hope you'll prove kind
And I hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer
For we'll come no more nigh you until the next year
And the first to come in is Lord Nelson you'll see
With a bunch of blue ribbons tied round by his knee
And a star on his breast that like silver doth shine
And I hope he remembers it's pace egging time
Here's one, two, three jolly lads...
And the next to come in, it is Lord Collingwood
And he fought with Lord Nelson till he shed his blood
And he's come from the sea, Old England to view
And he's come a pace-egging with all of his crew
Here's one, two, three jolly lads...
And the last to come in is old Toss Pot you'll see
He's a valiant old man and in every degree
He's a valiant old man and he wears a pig tail
And his only delight is a-drinking mulled ale
Here's one, two, three jolly lads...
Come ladies and gentlemen, sit by the fire
Put your hands in your pockets and give us our desire
Put your hands in your pockets and treat us all right
If you give nowt we'll take nowt, farewell and goodnight
Here's one, two, three jolly lads all in one mind
We are come a pace egging and I hope you'll prove kind
And I hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer
For we'll come no more nigh you until the next year
Guitar chords for Pace Egging Song
C
Here's one, two, three jolly lads all in one mind
G7 F
We are come a pace egging and I hope you’ll prove kind
C F G7 C
And I hope you'll prove kind with your eggs and strong beer
F G7 C
For we'll come no more nigh you un-til the next year
In his paper on English Ritual Songs, Mike Ballantyne writes:
Easter is a Lunar festival that occurs on the first Sunday following the full moon of the vernal equinox. It can, therefore, fall anywhere between March 22 and April 25. In Teutonic myth, the Easter hare – the sacred and sacrificial animal of Astra or Eostre – the Teutonic goddess of dawn and the Spring – laid the eggs which in our times she is only said to deliver. In the term “pace egg,” “pace” is, ultimately, derived from the Hebrew word for Passover. This has now evolved, through Greek and Latin, into asso- ciation with the Resurrection. As the Celtic festival was also concerned with rebirth (albeit a rebirth in nature), it is relatively easy to see how convenient it was for the Roman church to adopt existing, pre-Christian festivals.
There are three main customs that still exist relating specifically to pace-egging. These are the singing of songs from door to door (which might properly be called Easter carolling or wassailling), egg rolling, and the staging of Pace-Egging plays. The majority of these customs are held in the northern half of England.
A poor old man was crossing the road
Crossing the road, crossing the road
A poor old man was crossing the road
When along came a man with a wheelbarrow
Oh, don't let the wheels of your wheelbarrow
Don't let the wheels of your wheelbarrow
Oh don't let the wheels of your wheelbarrow
Run over the poor old man
A poor old man was crossing the road
Crossing the road, crossing the road
A poor old man was crossing the road
When along came a man with a fish and chip potato cart
Oh, don't let the wheels of your fish and chip potato cart wheelbarrow
Don't let the wheels of your fish and chip potato cart wheelbarrow
Oh don't let the wheels of your fish and chip potato cart wheelbarrow
Run over the poor old man
A poor old man was crossing the road etc...
When along came a man with a
...Trolley-bus wire wiper
...Corporation cart what sucks water up an 'ole