We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

The People Have Songs - Volume 1

by Various Artists

/
  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Forty-three songs make this 2 1/2 hour collection excellent value. Includes two 16-page lyrics booklets.

    Includes unlimited streaming of The People Have Songs - Volume 1 via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 5 days

      $45 AUD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $18 AUD  or more

     

1.
Hello stranger put your lovin’ hand in mine You are a stranger, but your a pal of mine Lord I came down here just see that gal o’ mine I got in trouble and I’ll soon be doin’ time But every time I ride a 64th streetcar I see my baby just a peekin’ through the bars She bowed her head and waved both hands at me I’m prison bound and longin’ to be free Weepin’ like a willow moanin’ like a dove There’s a girl up country that I really love Lord I’ll see you when your troubles are like mine Lord I’ll see you when you haven’t got a dime Hello stranger put your lovin’ hand in mine You are a stranger, but your a pal of mine I need a friend, won’t you be a friend of mine
2.
When snows transform the hedgerow thorn And frosting gilds the berry Good men and true the fire logs hew And in the inns make merry Then, singing all as with one voice It seems the very walls rejoice And merriment about doth spring When all men sing Let every man so pitch his song To help his neighbour sing along To each and all contentment bring When all men sing When lambs are seen and trees spring green Come forth in bloom the daisies For winter’s end our thanks we’ll send At Easter time sing praises Then with a will, yea one accord We’ll raise our voices to the Lord And praise above our Heavenly King When all men sing! When in the fields his scythe he wields Then hear his summer sound As man and boy their lungs employ The songs they echo ‘round Resound from hill and roof and spire Starting lowly building higher So surely then his scythe will swing When all men sing When leaves they fall from elm tree tall Then every back must bend As young and old with courage bold Their efforts they expend Ensuring autumn’s gifts are stowed ‘Fore cold winter’s wind is blowed Then comes an end to foraging When all men sing Here song’s in season every year Some voices sweet while others strong Gently round ascending With harmonies a-blending As unison accords the song Uplifting beams of inn or hall And shaking plaster from the walls When all men sing!
3.
This life is a journey we a’ hae tae gang And care is the burden we carry alang Though heavy be our burden and poverty our lot We’ll be happy a’ together owre a wee drappie o’t Owre a wee drappie o’t, owre a wee drappie o’t We’ll be happy a’ together owre a wee drappie o’t The trees are all stripped of their mantle sae green The leaves of the forest nae langer can be seen And winter is here wi’ his cauld icy coat But we’re a’ met together owre a wee drappie o’t Job in his lamentation said ‘Man was made tae mourn” There’s nae such thing as pleasure from the cradle tae the urn But in his meditations Job surely has forgot The pleasure man enjoys owre a wee drappie o’t So raise high your glass let your troubles lie the night They surely will wait for you by morn’s clear light Whate’er be your trade, be it loom, plough or boat We’ll be happy a’ together owre a wee drappie o’t
4.
A tale I’ll tell of a perilous gate upon the Eastern coast Of many shipwrecks and ruins this narrow gate can boast Beneath Newcastle harbour waves Lie rotting hulks and sailors graves Hero’s tombs are hidden caves Below the Nobby’s post Yes sir, a pretty entrance but were I homebound sail I’d rather stand far out to sea when it blows a stiffish gale Blowing from the south or east Each huge wave a crest of yeast Is charging like a wounded beast And mounts the rolling rail On the sixth day of November in 1858 The Eleanor Lancaster was caught entering that perilous gate We watched those huddled in the top With nothing but a slender prop Which at each blow we thought would drop As all the timbers failed An awful sea was running and not in all that crew Was one who thought boats could be brought those boiling breakers through Then a little fair man Pushed and panted as he ran And urged us all the waves to scan And to our mates be true! “Come lads” he shouted shrill and clear “Who’ll venture it with me? Each minute lost a life may cost in such a tumbling sea With four good men I’ll wager We’ll bring them all to shore Come who will try?” Three answered “I” And I sir made up four It was a roughish kind of trip but Chatfield steered us well I see him there with his fairish hair facing what befell And when we’d brought them all to shore He shook us by the hand once more I’ve met no braver men before The truth to you I’ll tell For ten more years the oyster bank was beaconed by a spar That stood in witness to the storm that sank the Lancaster Five fathoms deep her rotting shell A prayer the slender mast did tell A brave deed done so nobly well A good ten years before Then toward the close of winter hard blowin’ all the night The great sea horses tearing high raced madly past the bight Many a man came down to see If inbound craft there chanced to be Sailors’ wives watched anxiously Out on the surging flood Cawarra was comin’ in I knew her bow so well We watched her as she struggled on and battled with the swell We watched her through the mounting blast And hoped that once the Nobby’s past The harbour she might make at last None but the gods could tell She tried to turn again to sea when a snow white whiff of steam Told us that her fires were out and she drifted on her beam Her boilers by the waves were quenched Her engines by the waves were drenched Watchers hearts were sorely wrenched And hope a fading dream No boats set out to rescue those still clinging to the wreck ‘Though one was there with his fairish hair, he now stood on that deck His beacon pointing to the sky Urged us not to let him die But his same noble feat to try No man would risk his neck Many’s the time at midnight I’ve heard the tempest roar I’ve lain awake and wished that I could have the chance once more To be the one to leave the crowd To call his name out clear and loud And free from Neptune’s salty shroud Bring him back to shore
5.
Oh my Donald he works upon the sea In the waves that blow wild and free He splices the ropes and he sets the sail As southward he roams to the home of the whale And he ne’er thinks of me left far behind Nor of the torments that rage in my mind He is mine for only a part of the year And then I’m all alone with only my tears So ye ladies that smell of wild rose Think ye for your perfume to where a man goes Think ye of the women and children who mourn For a man ne’er returned from hunting the sperm
6.
With our nets and gear we’re faring On the wild and wasteful ocean It’s out there on the deep That we harvest and reap our bread As we hunt the bonny shoals of herring 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 fished the Swarth and the Broken Bank I was cook and I’d a quarter-sharing And I used to sleep, standing on my feet And I’d dream about the shoals of herring Oh we left the home grounds in the month of June And for Canny Shiels we soon were bearing 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 following 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 Day and night the sea we’re daring Come wind come hail or winter’s gale Sweating and cold, growing up Growing old and dying As we hunt the bonnie shoals of herring
7.
Oh the weary cutters and oh the weary sea Oh the weary cutters have taken my laddie from me They’ve pressed him far away foreign with Nelson all on the salt sea Oh the weary cutters have taken my laddie from me Oh the lousy cutters and oh the weary sea Oh the lousy cutters have taken my laddie from me They always come in the night; they never come in the day They come in the night and steal the laddies away Oh the weary cutters and oh the weary sea Oh the weary cutters have taken my laddie from me I’ll give the cutter a guinea; I can give the cutter no more But I’ll give them a guinea to steal my laddie ashore
8.
I dreamed a dream the other night Lowlands, lowlands away my John I dreamed a dream the other night Lowlands, my lowlands away I dreamed my love came standing by Came standing close by my bedside She’s drowning in the lowland sea And never more coming home to me The sea-green weed was in her hair ‘Twas then I knew there was no life left there She lies there in the windy lowlands She lies there in the windy lowlands I dreamed a dream the other night Lowlands, lowlands away my John I dreamed a dream the other night Lowlands, my lowlands away
9.
Mighty sea you have such power in your hand Your waves they can turn the rock to sand But all of the strength you wield can never set me free If you can’t make that sweet boy love me For all your great voice you can’t kneel by his bed And whisper my name in his dreams And all of nature’s power means nothing now to me For I’ll die if he never loves me Gentle Earth with your magic old as time But I can only see it as a crime That you give birth to the flowers, the ferns and the trees Yet you can’t make that sweet boy love me Sky above with your sunshine and your rain Can you send me down something to ease the pain? For all your thunder and lightning is useless can’t you see? If you can’t make that sweet boy love me
10.
11.
Hey whatever happened to you? And whatever happened to us? Hey we missed the proverbial boat The plane and the train and the bus Yeah we pushed and we shoved, we fell outta love Tore each other apart Yes, love is grand but I can’t understand Why you broke my proverbial heart Well we used to be in love Now we are in hate You used to say I came to early But it was you who came too late! Hey boy meets girl you give it a whirl And the very next thing you know You thinks she’s nuts, she hates your guts And the bad blood starts to flow Well it sounds like sour grapes And that’s just what it is Gonna send my subscription to Oracle You can send my subscription to Male Hey that’s a whole lotta crap about a tender trap Love’s just a suicide snare All I wanna do is forget you and our lousy love affair! (lyrics reprinted by kind permission of Snowden Music)
12.
I dreamed that I was naked, standing in the street Nothing but my guitar and the shoes on my feet I didn’t know what to do so I sang a song Some guy who said he was a Christian came along And he said “Shame on you heathen! Standing naked is a sin!” I said “I’m sorry you’re embarrassed By this predicament I’m in” I didn’t choose to be here like this, wearing only skin” He said “Shame on you heathen!” again A guy with lots of money came up And when he saw me there He said “I started out with nothin’ once” I said “Oh yeah? Could you help me out now please? I need to buy some clothes” He said “I’m sorry, my adviser told me not to issue loans” I said ‘Thanks a lot mate, for your generosity” Then a woman and a five year old boy came up to me She looked at me and turned bright red And started to scream To everybody in the street there “It’s obscene!” I remember thinkin’ “lady if you don’t like what you see Why do you insist on starin’ at me?” I was more embarrassed by her than she was by me I hid behind my instrument and I hoped she’d go away Then the little kid came up to me, he said “Why’ve you got no clothes on, standing in the street?” I said “I dunno kid I just got here in a dream” He said “So did I, I know what you mean” I dreamed that I was naked, standing in the street Nothing but my guitar and the shoes on my feet I didn’t know what to do so I sang a song
13.
Beetles in the basin in the bathroom Striped with black and blue Beetles in the basin in the bathroom I’m in the bathroom too How embarrassing! I’m in the bathroom too! - I can spell hat, h-a-t I can spell cat, c-a-t I can spell fat, f-a-t But I can’t spell hippopotamus I can spell dog, d-o-g I can spell log, l-o-g I can spell hog, h-o-g But I can’t spell hippopotamus H-i-p-p-o I know, and then comes p-o-t But that’s as far as I can go and that’s what bothers me, Gee!
14.
Here’s my story, sad but true About a pot plant I once knew I met it at the nursery, took it home to stay with me But soon its little leaves it shed It shrivelled up, then dropped dead Was it something that I said? Why don’t my houseplants like me? Next day I bought another one  If plants had legs it would’ve run This fern thought it would rather die Than live with me, don’t ask me why I treated it exactly right with water, fertiliser, light But it didn’t make it through the night Why don’t my houseplants like me? Well soon the pattern was quite plain Plants all treat me with disdain Steadily decrease in size, refuse to photosynthesise Oh, suicidal shrubbery it’s a mystery to me This botanic conspiracy Why don’t my houseplants like me? I only wanted something to love A pretty plant to call my own A very special floral friend To brighten up my empty home But now the only thing that’s left of them Is curled-up leaf and dried-up stem Guess I’ll never come to terms With anti-social angiosperms But there’s just one thing that will make me calm A plant that cannot come to harm Now I’m shopping for a plastic palm Why don’t my houseplants like me?
15.
Would you like to play bridge and have a nice cup of tea In the morning, Mrs Abrams? We’re starting out at ten Mrs Iltis and Flora Hazleton What we need is a fourth ‘cause Ida Yancey’s not here She’s at her sister’s in New Jersey So, Mrs Abrams, will you play - what d’ya say? Well, I haven’t played bridge since my husband died It’s been a while, Mrs Reilly I can hardly remember the rules I’m really rusty and I know I’d feel like a fool But since you ask I could give it a go Mrs Iltis has a book she’d lend me I know So, Mrs Reilly, it’s tea at ten - see you then Would you like to play pool in the tournament? We could be partners, Mr Gaffney There’s a game that starts at two Mr Sheen and Ted Fine against me and you Yes, you’re my pick you bank ‘em in every time We could both win a trophy Mr Gaffney, will you play - what d’ya say? I like to catch a few winks, take a snooze at noon I get so tired, Mr Rosen There are times when I’m so stiff I can hardly keep a hold of the darn queue-stick But since you ask, it doesn’t feel like rain Last night I slept great With those pink pills for the pain So, Mr Rosen, see you at two We’ll take ‘em on, me and you! Would you like to play horn in the orchestra? You’d be terrific, Mr Lopez We’re tuning up at three Your friend Hal Herschel’ll play the tympani We’re gonna play a little Gershwin and some J S Bach Can you even believe We’re gonna try a little pop and some rock? So, Mr Lopez, will you play - what do you say? My lip is not in shape, my horn is worn and old It’s at my brother’s, Mrs Malcolm My sight-reading’s awful slow It’s been years, I’d hold you up I know But since you ask I could just stop by I could sit in for a while if you need me So, Mrs Malcolm, I’ll see you at three at the do-re- I’ll even bring my brother with me to the do-re- And thanks for asking me to the do-re-mi!
16.
Come gather round and listen to this tale of misery It happened long ago at some poor girl’s kitchen tea It should have been a party but things turned sour instead There were stains upon the carpet and over twenty dead It started out okay I guess as the ladies gathered round The bride-to-be was happy with her crimplene dressing gown The handy-bin from Grandma would be useful in her home And Mrs Duke had painted her a hand-made garden gnome Then Aunt Mel took exception to a comment from her niece And she responded angrily and kicked her friend Bernice Fights broke out around the room and none got out alive Of the kitchen tea Tupperware massacre of 1965 Well it turned into a melee - you could see the plastic fly A gift-wrapped beetroot strainer caught Kate above the eye Red and yellow lunchboxes flew about the place And someone rubbed a cheese grater down Mrs Porter’s face A see-through, freezer canister killed Mrs Ross stone dead A sawn-off salad crisper protruded from her head PVC had severed limbs before the police arrived At the kitchen tea Tupperware massacre of 1965 Thirty years have come and gone since the bodies were entombed The Forensic Squad sought evidence and ordered them exhumed They dug up Mrs Henderson and the mother of the bride They were neatly stacked in Tupperware, fresh and crisp as the day they died!
17.
There are strange people living in the city They shave their chins and armpits And dress up like cement Their nervous eyes evoke a sense of pity They’ve bought themselves a prison Which was never their intent The only way to free them is to shock them Show them the reality that’s killing me and you They’re the only ones who can unlock them When I see them on the escalators all I want to do is yell “Freaks! What are you doing? Dressing up like mannequins and marching up and down Can’t you smell the poison you’re brewing While you’re living in a bubble in the plastic part of town?” They think its human nature to be selfish To them co-operation is a weakness of the mind They recognise the system isn’t healthy But they’d rather just enjoy it, and leave it all behind Now that’s just not acceptable behaviour Tripping on consumption and the products of today Excreting waste in our suburban graveyard When they colonise my television I just want to say to them They don’t believe in things outside the present The future has no value if it can’t be sold today They help to make each other’s moments pleasant By building a reality that keeps the world away We have to talk some holes into their fortress Teach them to respect the future’s right to just exist Use the lessons history has taught us When I cycle past their traffic jams The hardest to resist is yelling
18.
Horoscopes and cigarettes and fancy hair Chocolate cake and Rikki Lake and Marie Clare Jenny Craig and calories Reading Tarot cards and the Woman’s Day With aliens coming down to take us all away I’m sure they’ve been here for years Like a dream within a dream, like a looking-glass world Her life is like a spiral, how it curls And she’s living in the woods between the worlds Drinking Diet Coke and cappuccino Keeping up with Quentin Tarantino Mortgages and salaries Stomach tuck and lipo suck are all the rage But luckily you can’t afford them on your wage You’ll have to age so gracefully
19.
Tom rolled his cigarette, cursing the breeze For blowing it half away In green eyes made iron grey I see reflections of a boy “Oh Tom your a clumsy one Fall’n down and broke your arm again” There’s a price you’ve paid from pain and it’s not freedom Oh Tom the anger that you keep Is the anchor to your father’s wrongs Oh Tom don’t make him pay by punishing his son At seven years of age too scared to run From the only home he’d ever known He kept it on his own and the secrets eat the man away I believe him when he says his anger is a hidden thing It’s disguised itself from even him You can’t see your rage, the secret dragon in our love Oh Tom, if you can’t forgive How will you heal your father’s wrongs? Oh Tom don’t make him pay by punishing his son At thirty-seven years of age Now you’re running away from home Your bedroll on your arm by the freight train yards And after childhood years of drunken hate If you wish him dead maybe you can relate To the pain in your heart that you’d wait Just to hear ‘I love you son’ You deserve to live and be free You deserve to love and be free Victims and knaves and distributors of blame Are players in a game of tears In the end you waste those years With bitter hearts still hungry So come little Tom lay yourself in my arms A kiss can make it go away And if it helps today my breast will be your mother’s Oh Tom, if you can’t forgive How will you learn to love and live? Tom don’t make him pay by punishing his son
20.
He was a man and a friend always He stuck with me through the hard old days He never cared if I had no dough We rambled round through the rain and snow So here’s to you my ramblin’ boy May all your rambles bring you joy Here’s to you my ramblin’ boy May all your rambles bring you joy In Tulsa town we chanced to stray We tried to find some work one day The boss said he had room for one Says my old pal ‘we’d rather bum’ Late one night in the jungle camp The weather it was cold and damp He got the chills and he got ‘em bad They took the only friend I had He left me here to ramble on My ramblin’ pal is dead and gone If when we die we go somewhere, I bet you a dollar he’s ramblin’ there
21.
Tempted and tried we’re oft made to wonder Why it should be thus all the day long While there are others living about us Never molested ‘though in the wrong Farther along we’ll know all about it Farther along we’ll understand why Cheer up my brothers Live in the sunshine We’ll understand it all by and by When death has come and taken our loved ones Leavin’ our homes so lonely and drear Then do we wonder why others prosper Livin’ as sinners year after year Often I wonder why I must journey Over a road so rugged and steep While there are others living in comfort While with the lost I labour and weep
22.
There’s a man in my bed I used to love him His kisses used to take my breath away There’s a man in my bed I hardly know him I wipe his face and hold his hand And watch him as he slowly fades away And he fades away Not like leaves that fall in autumn Turning gold against the grey He fades away Like the bloodstains on the pillow case That I wash every day He fades away There’s a man in my bed, he’s on a pension Although he’s only fifty years of age The lawyer says we might get compensation In the course of due procedure But he couldn’t say for certain at this stage And he’s not the only one Who made that trip so many years ago To work the Wittenoom mines So many young men old before their time And dying slow He fades away A wheezing bag of bones his Lungs half clogged and full of clay He fades away There’s a man in my bed they never told him The cost of bringing home his weekly pay And when the courts decide how much they owe him How will he spend his money When he lies in bed and coughs his life away?
23.
Fading away like the stars in the morning Losing their light in the glorious sun Thus would we pass from this earth and its toiling Only remembered for what we have done Only remembered only remembered Only remembered for what we have done Thus would we pass from this earth and its toiling Only remembered for what we have done Only the truth that in life we have spoken Only the seed that in life we have sown These shall pass onwards when we are forgotten Only remembered for what we have done Who’ll sing the anthem and who’ll tell the story Will the line hold? Will it scatter and run? Shall we at last be united in glory Only remembered for what we have done

about

When I wrote The People Have Songs in late 1997 I wanted to celebrate a cultural practice of great importance to me - the singing session. For any who don’t know, sessions are an exhilarating do-it-yourself phenomenon found at all the best folk festivals. In this case however it was a particular weekly gathering at an inner Sydney pub called the Glengarry Castle that was my chief inspiration. Every Friday night a core group of regulars, visitors and passers-by would share (mainly folk) songs with each other, frequently filling the bistro with almost tangible layers of harmony.

The song’s enthusiastic reception among my peers led me to think of publishing it as the title track of a compilation album that would commemorate our singing tradition, its emotional power, its people and their egalitarianism. I kept the emphasis on singers who weren’t already established with albums of their own, and it was natural to include many of the Glengarry mob. The production process took nearly four years however, and during that time I kept finding more people with songs. The base of contributors widened - including visitors from Queensland and the ACT - and I struggled to limit the project to two compact disks.

The album’s content ranges from the purely traditional to contemporary folk and restyled popular songs, and I’m particularly excited about including several previously unpublished originals. This breadth of scope reflects the openness and inclusiveness of the folk tradition at its best. About half of them are chorus songs and these were recorded in specially arranged sessions* where we could capture our spontaneity and sense of fun without the usual background of pub noise. The tracks are arranged on the album such that they often flow thematically into each other. This sometimes happens in reality: a roomful of singers might for example produce a series of songs about drinking [no, really!] or sheep-shearing, or how morally repugnant the Coalition front bench is.

Although every song was recorded to sound much as it would live, without special studio effects, I wouldn’t say that The People Have Songs is an exact recreation of a singing session. The speech, laughter and merriment that connect the songs in a real session like social glue was unfortunately beyond my reach. ‘The Black Hole’, a metaphysical entity the colour of Guinness which sucks the words of songs from the minds of singers in mid flight is naturally nowhere to be found here. I decided against a ‘warts and all’ approach because although flaws are generally unnoticed or forgiven in a live experience, a recording can never be as good as being there, and ought to have high production values to compensate. You may however encounter the odd squawk or snigger here and there - human error, not humanity, has been edited out.

The Glengarry session has now passed into history. The NSW ALP’s venal decision in 1996 to allow hotels to have poker machines destroyed the habitat of this and quite a few other flowers of inner-city pub culture. This album is offered as a monument to that happy time and place, and in a small way as a guarantee that our tradition endures.

credits

released August 12, 2020

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Miguel Heatwole Sydney, Australia

Miguel’s a versatile singer, choral director & composer. His interests include folk & world music, political satire, the environment, trade unionism & the responsible enjoyment of alcohol. His songwriting embraces themes like peace & justice, the family cat, & visceral passionate attraction. His enthusiasm for recording community singing has let many people share the power of their songs. ... more

contact / help

Contact Miguel Heatwole

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Report this album or account

Miguel Heatwole recommends:

If you like The People Have Songs - Volume 1, you may also like: