A song to sing
Tshotsholosa, kwesontaba
Stimela siphuma e Rhodesia
Tshotsholosa, kwesontaba
Stimela siphuma e Rhodesia
Wena uyabaleka, kwesontaba
Stimela siphuma e Rhodesia
Wena uyabaleka, kwesontaba
Stimela siphuma e Rhodesia
Todd Matshikiza
In English this song means:
Steam away, steam away over the hills, you train from Rhodesia. You are fast-moving through hills, steam away, you train from Rhodesia
In Dublin's fair city where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying Cockles and Mussels alive, alive oh!
She was a fishmonger, but sure 'twas no wonder
For so were her Father and Mother before
And they each wheeled their barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
Crying Cockles and Mussels alive, alive oh!
She died of a fever and no one could save her
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone
Now her ghost wheels her barrow
Through streets broad and narrow
C Am Dm G7 In Dublin’s fair city, where the girls are so pretty C Am Dm G7 I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone C Am As she wheeled her wheel-barrow Dm G7 Through streets broad and narrow C C C G7 C Crying cockles and mussels a-live a-live oh G7 Alive, alive oh! Alive, alive oh! C G7 C Crying cockles and mussels a-live a-live oh
Roll the old chariot along
Roll the old chariot along
Roll the old chariot along
And we'll all hang on behind
A plate of hot souse wouldn't do us any harm
A plate of hot souse wouldn't do us any harm
It would roll, roll, roll the old chariot along
And we'll all hang on behind
Roll the old chariot along...
Some fresh sea pie wouldn't do us any harm
Some fresh sea pie wouldn't do us any harm
It would roll, roll, roll the old chariot along
And we'll all hang on behind
Roll the old chariot along...
A new plum duff wouldn't do us any harm
A new plum duff wouldn't do us any harm
It would roll, roll, roll the old chariot along
And we'll all hang on behind
Roll the old chariot along...
A glass of whisky hot wouldn't do us any harm
A glass of whisky hot wouldn't do us any harm
It would roll, roll, roll the old chariot along
And we'll all hang on behind
Roll the old chariot along
Roll the old chariot along
Roll the old chariot along
And we'll all hang on behind
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
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
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?