The Shantymen's Song

It's been a while since I posted any lyrics. A couple of days ago I started reading up on the Ottawa Valley logging industry over the last century or two then picked up the guitar and started strumming that rolling 6/8 so common in Canadian songs based around water. This one celebrates the Shantymen of John R. Booth's logging empire. Booth is now considered an important figure in Ottawa's history. It's interesting to read that this relationship with his workers was generally positive and he was far more generous to them than many of his competitors were to their staff. Let's face it, they earned it.



The Shantymen's Song

Surely now you have heard of our outstanding kind
A finer class of lads I claim you'll ne'er find,
'Tis of these brave workers and bosses we sing
Of we Shantymen and the great lumber king.

Here in the thick woodland where white timber grows
Teeming with pike and muskie in fresh water flows,
We fell sticks by axe and by wide cross cut saws
Some engraved with our names from our big, leathered paws.

For it's load up the logs, boys, and fix the crib down
Float the great raft down river, to the sawmill we're bound,
Whirling currents to guide us we proudly all sing
To the Shantymen and to the great lumber king!

J. R. Booth he's a man of both sternness and thought
And those under his thumb but a fortunate lot,
For we've done very well on the Square Timber trade
Even when the Grand Trunk went on strike we got paid.

Now, don't take me wrong for we earn every buck
Whether tossed in the rapids or thrown in the muck,
Our hands constantly dirty, oft bleeding and coarse
Skidding squared-up logs down to shore by ox and horse.

(ch)

'Tis 'round the cambuse as we drive the supply
We eat beef and cold buscuits while socks hang to dry,
The scent of tobacco in the cool evening air
As we sleep in bark beds and in damp underwear.

We subjects do well in this empire of pine
Though the winters be harsh, spring is generally fine,
Mr. Booth he grows rich from our sweat and our toil
As we plunder the rugged, arboreous soil.

(instr. break)

So here's to the workers and here's to the man
To the families that thrive on the rich timber land,
Of our small contribution we pray you shall sing
Of we Shantymen and the great lumber king.

(ch 2x)

©2008 by Uncle Freddy - SOCAN
Unauthorized republishing of these lyrics is prohibited

Oh Yeah, I Have A Blog!

Been busy with my day job, but things are happening and some more tunes are coming - slowly. I had a couple of more contemporary songs on deck and then my historical penchant kicked back in. Damn. I am sending in my OCFF submission tomorrow or the next day, so we'll see how that pans out. Their conference is here in town this year, so I can go for sure.

Soap box time.

It wasn't until I moved to Ontario that I realized the horrible attitude the West has towards Quebec. Some broadcast from the Winnipeg Comedy Festival is on in the background here while I'm doing some research on the HBC and early fur trade (let the good times roll!) and not only are the comics not funny, when making their contrived political jokes they're going for that whole 'French Canada thinks they're better than us so let me try to make you laugh by pointing this out without any real knowledge of the truth because I like to pander to your own ignorance' angle. Being a Winnipeg audience, they're loving it so I have to change the channel and just let it go. Most of the time I like to think of myself of being proud of having been born & raised a prairie boy, but not when I listen to this crap. You know, Canadian comics really need to stop with the political jokes. They don't work. Ron James is about as funny as I am a good singer. Sorry, Ron.

Bring In The Crop

If there's one thing Woody Guthrie did that I admire to this day, it's telling a story from the heart without dressing it up in overthought poetry and metaphors. This is often an approach in classic bluegrass writing as well as the songs of Fred Eaglesmith, who is obviously one of my big influences. It was in that vein that I jotted this simple puppy down one spring afternoon last year.

Bring in the Crop

Dusty tail behind the combine
Rise like smoke into the air,
Hands gripped tight on shakin' metal
And I dare not stop 'til this field is bare

(ch)
Bring it in, bringin' in the crop, boys
Bringin' in the crop, storm's a comin' our way,
Bring it in, bringin' in the crop, boys
Bringin' in the crop, I gotta make it pay

Fourty years been farmin' barley
Fourty years held to the land,
Floods, droughts, and rot we've beaten
Heifers still get milked by hand

(ch)

Oh, Lord, ain't much for prayin'
Oh, Oh, Lord, but I need ya now,
Every grain's worth every cent
Ain't yet paid off that rattlin' plough

(ch)

One, two, three, four rows now
Left to pull and hopper bound,
Five, six o'clock or so
No supper 'tils I clears the ground

(ch)

©2007 by Uncle Freddy - SOCAN
Unauthorized republishing of these lyrics is prohibited

The Ballad of Colonel By

This is something of a companion piece to The Battle of Crysler's Farm, which shares a similar structure and is also about an important event in the evolution of Ontario. I've gone through two or three different tunes for this song and will record a demo once I settle a tune I can live with, LOL.





The Ballad of Colonel By

Gather ‘round me now both young and old for I’ve a tale to tell
Of the man who led the building of the vast Rideau Canal,
Lieutenant Colonel John By was this gentleman’s good name
Now listen as I tell you how he reached the heights of fame.

In 1826 John By arrived upon Wright’s Town
A Royal Engineer who had served under Wellington,
His mission for to build a route down river to Kingston
To protect against a Yank attack by infantry and gun.

Well, he knew there was no time to waste, no time for sitting still
He gathered soldiers and a crew then erected Barrack’s Hill,
They built a bridge at Chaudiere Falls, surveyed the stretch of land
Two hundred-two kilometers to be dug by tool and hand.

Through the rugged wilderness they started cutting through
The glory men envisioned waned as the rough conditions grew,
The sappers, miners, axemen, masons, Irish labourers
They broke their backs at the command of the British engineers.

As the clearing of the river and the building carried on
Colonel By he drove them forward, lax behaviour frowned upon
Too many gave their lives all for to earn the British pound
Their bodies buried deep beneath the cold and muddy ground.

Come 1832, in just six years the job was done
A stunning feat for Colonel By and relief for everyone,
Some stayed to live in Lowertown, some home to Montréal
And ne'er again to know such grueling drudgery at all.

Upon return to London he met the Royal Treasury
Accusations for expenditures, he denied such treachery,
He spent his last years in attempt to have his good name cleared
Though England seemed indignant it was here he was revered.

So now to all both young and old who live in this locale
Remember now who'd given us the vast Rideau Canal,
How Bytown, now called Ottawa, gave home to those who came
And forever Colonel By will live within the heights of fame.


©2005 by Uncle Freddy - SOCAN
Unauthorized republishing of these lyrics is prohibited

This Old Train

This was one of my first songs, circa November 2005, not long after picking up my first guitar in Montreal. It's a safe bet for anyone starting out songwriting in the genres I prefer to do so with the imagery of riding a train through a cool rain shower. How 1970's.





This Old Train

Gone riding once again on this old train
Underneath this cool September rain,
Headed westward through prairie fields
Up the Rocky Mountain range,
Riding again on this old train.

The faces here, they sure do look the same
But I’ll bet no one recalls my name,
It don’t matter much to me, you know
I really can’t complain,
Riding again on this old train.

It’s nine long hours to my Mary-Jane
Clickin' ‘cross the Alberta terrain,
Why it took so long to come on home
I’ll sure have to explain,
Riding again on this old train.

Them Eastern folks I love to entertain
But it’s time to get back home again,
In my daring’s arms I’ll be restin' soon
But for now I’ll watch the rain,
Riding again on this old train.

Gone riding once again on this old train
Underneath this cool September rain,
Headed westward through prairie fields
Up the Rocky Mountain range,
Riding again on this old train.
Riding once again on this old train.

©2005 by Uncle Freddy - SOCAN
Unauthorized republishing of these lyrics is prohibited

Muddy River (Carry Me Home)

Pretty much a blues tune.


Muddy River (Carry Me Home)

(ch)
Muddy river gonna carry me home
Muddy river, long her current I flow,
Muddy river gonna carry me home

Been so lonesome since I left my hometown
Plantin' sweet gum in the cold Yankee ground,
And where I came from promised but let me down

(ch)

Oh, I'm achin' for her gentle embrace
Ain't no mistaken, though I left in disgrace,
For I'd forsaken what the south can't replace

(ch)

I will settle down and tend to the crop
Raisin' cattle, plenty timber to chop,
Oh, take me muddy river, 'long the way don't you stop

(ch)

I pull my paddle closer to her each mile
Her darlin' blue eyes and her warm, gentle smile
And I be prayin' that she'll keep me a while

(ch x2)

©2005 by Uncle Freddy - SOCAN
Unauthorized republishing of these lyrics is prohibited

My Saturday Afternoons

Another non-threatening, off the porch ditty about enjoying the simple things in life. This one has a bit of a swing feel to it and works well with a bit of a whistling solo at the end.



My Saturday Afternoons

The sun is shinin' bright although it ain't all that hot
There ain't a cloud up in the sky,
The trees are wavin' lightly back 'n' forth with the breeze
About enough to put a tear to yer eye

The mornin' chores are done, the wife she's hangin' wet clothes
The kids are lickin' batter off of a spoon,
I got an old pair of jeans on and a mouthful of chew
I'm ready for a lazy afternoon

It ain't every day I get to put up my feet
Them breaks too short, too far in between,
But it's nice to take advantage of a fine summer day
Escapin' from the daily routine

Leavin' the crop alone now, just a little while
And the heifers there out back they'll make due
I could be a tendin' to the lawn, this is true
But I'm a doin' fine here knawin' my chew

(ch)
I'm gonna mix up a jug of icy, cool lemonade
I'm gonna watch the mutt chasin' prairie dogs in the glade
I'm swayin' on my ol' rocker on the porch in the shade
Starin' at the sky so blue,
You know there ain't no shame in takin' time for yourself
When the work is done and week it is through
Ain't gonna waste a single minute 'cuz I know she'll end soon
I love my Saturday afternoons

One day, I know I'll give up on a plowin' the field
And let the oldest take up runnin' the farm,
I'll be livin' every single day the way that I please
Takin' in all of nature's sweet charms

Spendin' every second starin' up at the sky
And catchin' whiffs of lilac 'n' pine,
O, I'm the boss of me and so my time it is mine
Livin' every day this way'd be just fine!

(ch)

©2005 by Uncle Freddy - SOCAN
Unauthorized republishing of these lyrics is prohibited

Muddy River City

First of all, as much as I say that Winnipeg is a 'toilet' (and it is), it would be neither positive nor complimentary to Winnipegers for me to write a song about it. So, instead, I wrote one about a person who will never leave and likes it just fine. This one just had to be a 'back porch' ditty, mad pickin' & all.


Muddy River City

It’s here where the muddy Red and the Assiniboine rivers meet
Where the wind it kicks the dust up to the sidewalks from the street,
The panhandlers they’ll pester you for a smoke or for some change
Can’t park on Portage Avenue and it’s packed in The Exchange

The bus it never comes on time and the snow removal’s slow
The pot holes just get bigger, swallow station wagons whole,
Drivers cut each other off, turnin' signals never used
But it’s home and that’s what matters so I takes all the abuse

(ch)
Muddy River City, you’re oh so cold and dirty
But it ain’t enough for me to want to go,
Despite the snow and skeeters I couldn’t leave ya if I tried
In my Muddy River City is where I’m a gonna die

(instr. break)

Sure, I could move to B.C. or Toronto, I suppose
I just don’t care if Alberta’s where the money overflows,
I got no big ambitions so I’ll stay here in ‘The Peg’
To live my mediocre life until my final days

(ch)

©2005 by Uncle Freddy - SOCAN
Unauthorized republishing of these lyrics is prohibited

The Sound Remains The Same

I was home sick from work today, but I couldn't help but be at least a little productive. I've added a few mp3s to the songs, which I recorded over the course of this week. You'll notice in the drop-down menu to the right which songs include an mp3 file. They're very simple takes, so don't expect any fancy production. It's nice to see that my pitch is improving, too. If I were this age back in the 70's, maybe I could've opened for Stompin' Tom. Perhaps it's just as well.

Stay well.