Songs That Tell Stories

SONG OF BANGLADESH
(Words and Music by Joan Baez)

Bangladesh, Bangladesh
Bangladesh, Bangladesh
When the sun sinks in the west
Die a million people of the Bangladesh

The story of Bangladesh
Is an ancient one again made fresh
By blind men who carry out commmands
Which flow out of the laws upon which nation stands
Which is to sacrifice a people for a land

Bangladesh, Bangladesh
Bangladesh, Bangladesh
When the sun sinks in the west
Die a million people of the Bangladesh

Once again we stand aside
And watch the families crucified
See a teenage mother's vacant eyes
As she watches her feeble baby try
To fight the monsoon rains and the cholera flies

And the students at the university
Asleep at night quite peacefully
The soldiers came and shot them in their beds
And terror took the dorm awakening shrieks of dread
And silent frozen forms and pillows drenched in red

Bangladesh, Bangladesh
Bangladesh, Bangladesh
When the sun sinks in the west
Die a million people of the Bangladesh

Did you read about the army officer's plea
For donor's blood? It was given willingly
By boys who took the needles in their veins
And from their bodies every drop of blood was drained
No time to comprehend and there was little pain

And so the story of Bangladesh
Is an ancient one again made fresh
By all who carry out commands
Which flow out of the laws upon which nations stand
Which say to sacrifice a people for a land

Bangladesh, Bangladesh
Bangladesh, Bangladesh
When the sun sinks in the west
Die a million people of the Bangladesh .

Joan Baez - One of my alltime favs.

After posting here, Edgar, I found Baez' Web Site and saw that she recorded Dark Chords on a Big Guitar (2003). I think that's the only Baez recording I don't have. I ordered it. This is a great thread. Thank you.

Raggedyaggie, thanks for a great tune by the queen of the folk singers. My parents always had Joan on the stereo.

Darlin Cora - sung by Harry Belafonte

Wake up, wake up Darlin' Cora
Wanna see you one more time
The sheriff and his hound dogs a coming
I gotta move on down the line

I don't know why darlin' Cora
Don't know what the reason can be
But I never had found a single town
Where me and my boss-man agree

I ain't a man to be played with
I ain't nobody's toy
Been working for my pay for a long, long time
How come he still calls me boy

Well I'd rather drink muddy water
And sleep in a hollowed out log
Than to hang around in this old town
And be treated like a dirty dog

Well I whopped that man darlin' Cora
And he fell down where he stood
Don't know if I was wrong darlin' Cora
But Lord it sure felt good

If it wasn't so dark darlin' Cora
You'd see tears trickling down my face
It breaks my heart darlin' Cora
But I got to leave this place
Wake up, wake up darlin' Cora

Don't know why, there's no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather, since my man and I ain't together
Keeps raining all the time

Life is bare, gloom and misery everywhere
Stormy weather, just can't get my poor old self together
I'm weary all the time, the time, so weary all of the time

When he went away, the blues walked in and met me
If he stays away, old rocking chair will get me
All I do is pray, the lord above will let me walk in the sun once more

Can't go on, everything I had is gone
Stormy weather, since my man and I ain't together
Keeps raining all the time
Keeps raining all of the time

I have records of this by both Dylan and Johnny Cash

[CHORUS:]
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war

Gather round me people there's a story I would tell
About a brave young Indian you should remember well
From the land of the Pima Indian
A proud and noble band
Who farmed the Phoenix valley in Arizona land

Down the ditches for a thousand years
The water grew Ira's peoples' crops
'Till the white man stole the water rights
And the sparklin' water stopped

Now Ira's folks were hungry
And their land grew crops of weeds
When war came, Ira volunteered
And forgot the white man's greed

[CHORUS:]
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war

There they battled up Iwo Jima's hill,
Two hundred and fifty men
But only twenty-seven lived to walk back down again

And when the fight was over
And when Old Glory raised
Among the men who held it high
Was the Indian, Ira Hayes

[CHORUS:]
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war

Ira returned a hero
Celebrated through the land
He was wined and speeched and honored; Everybody shook his hand

But he was just a Pima Indian
No water, no crops, no chance
At home nobody cared what Ira'd done
And when did the Indians dance

[CHORUS:]
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war

Then Ira started drinkin' hard;
Jail was often his home
They'd let him raise the flag and lower it
like you'd throw a dog a bone!

He died drunk one mornin'
Alone in the land he fought to save
Two inches of water in a lonely ditch
Was a grave for Ira Hayes

[CHORUS:]
Call him drunken Ira Hayes
He won't answer anymore
Not the whiskey drinkin' Indian
Nor the Marine that went to war

Yeah, call him drunken Ira Hayes
But his land is just as dry
And his ghost is lyin' thirsty
In the ditch where Ira died

If this has been posted already, my apologies:

DEPORTEES (PLANE WRECK AT LOS GATOS)
Woody Guthrie

The crops are all in and the peaches are rott'ning,
The oranges piled in their creosote dumps2;
They're flying 'em back to the Mexican border
To pay all their money to wade back again

CHORUS:
Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye, Rosalita,
Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria;
You won't have your names when you ride the big airplane,
All they will call you will be "deportees"

My father's own father, he waded that river,
They took all the money he made in his life;
My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees,
And they rode the truck till they took down and died.

Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted,
Our work contract's out and we have to move on;
Six hundred miles to that Mexican border,
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.

We died in your hills, we died in your deserts,
We died in your valleys and died on your plains.
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes,
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.

The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon,
A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills,
Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves?
The radio says, "They are just deportees"

Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil
And be called by no name except "deportees"?

NOTE: Aside from the original Guthrie, my favourite version of this song was done by vocal gospel group Sweet Honey in the Rock. Awesome...

"Over a million people left Ireland during the so-called famine. Many left one hell only to have it substituted for another. The island of Grosse Isle in the St. Laurence near Quebec city was a quarantine station which saw its resources stretched to the limit during the years of 1846 and '47. To the thousands who are buried there, R.I.P. "

FAR FOM THEIR HOME (A SONG OF GROSSE ILE)
Brendan Nolan

Oh we left our homes and traveled
Though many not know where we lie
They said 'twas a land of promise
But few saw it with their own eyes
For it's here on this sad lonely island
Where the wind blows cold to the bone
We rest in its soil forgotten
Far away from our home.

On the 14th day of June
Our packet it set sail
Down the eastern coast we wound
Past Wexford and Kinsale
Till sadly the sunset faded
Gently from our eyes
And the lights of the Southwest flickered away
As we said our last goodbye.

Oh it's hard to describe the suffering
As this awful voyage began.
Two weeks out to sea, we had lost 10 or more
As the fever took the strongest of men
And the holds were battened for days on end
To stifle the sickness below
While the waters of the ocean swallowed our dead
Far away from their home.

Our spirits they were weary
As the great broad river began
And a whale rose up from the waters
As we sailed into this new land
With its hillsides that sloped toward the shoreline
And villages cradled within
We prayed these people could pity our plight
And find a new home for our kin.

Within sight of Grosse Isle
We were anchored far off shore
For many more ships lay waiting
And we'd stay maybe five days or more
For the lost ones outnumbered the living
And a terrible sight it was plain
As a packet floated out in the bay
With its human cargo aflame.

And the sheds overflowed with suffering
And their cries pierced the silence at night
And the brave ones who tended these travelers
Some paid with their lives in the fight
I've lost my own on this island
And my candle's near dying away
To have traveled so far on our journey
Humble voyagers together we'll stay.

Je m'appelle Léo Quinn
Mes ancêtres sont ici
Enterrés sur Grosse Isle
Qui fait face à ma ville Montmagny
Mes souvenirs ne sont que des fantômes
Qui survollent et dansent dans le vent
Ils demandent qu'on se souviens d'eux
Même si ce n'est qu'en chantant.

There are no boats tied in the river
And the cross stands gaunt on the hill
No wretched shadows trod from the shore
To the fever sheds now that lie still
Just the white markers guard their memory
No names carved in granite or stone
And the long grass waves to the wind as she blows
O'er these brave ones far from their home.

And the long grass waves to the wind as she blows
O'er these brave ones far from their home.

Translation of French Verse:

My name is Leo Quinn
My ancestors lie here
buried on Grosse Isle
Which faces my town of Montmagny
My memories are ghosts
Who swirl and dance in the wind
They ask that we remember them
Even if only in song

According to Edgar's handy song index on page 1 "Deportee" has been submitted twice. But no matter. It is a timeless commentary on the migrant workers. Thanks for turning us on to Nolan. Perhaps now that Lightfoot's voice has been stilled he (Nolan) will be heard more often.

I think I missed Deportee on the index, but I had a feeling someone had posted it. Yes, I hope Nolan gets more exposure, he is a great traditional singer, and also writes great songs. You know, that reminds me, the tune for Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald is the same as Bobby Sands' Back Home in Derry, although for the life of me, I can't recall which song came first. Anyway...

BACK HOME IN DERRY
Bobby Sands

In 1803 we sailed out to sea
Out from the sweet town of Derry.
For Australia bound if we didn't all drown
And the marks of our letters were heavy
In the rusty iron chains we signed for our wanes
Our women we left there in sorrow
As the main sails unfurled, our cares we hurled
At the English and the thoughts of tomorrow

CHORUS: oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry.
Oh....oh, I wish I was back home in Derry.

At the mouth of the foil, bid farwell to the soil
As down below decks we were lying.
O'Docherty's scream woke him out of a dream
By a vision of bold Robert dying.
The sun burned cruel and they dished out the gruel
Dan O'Connor was down with the fever
Sixty rebels that day bound for botany bay
How many would reach there this evening?

I cursed them to hell, as our bow fought the swell
Our ship danced like moths on the firelight
Wild horses rode high as the devil passed by
Taking souls into Hades by twilight light
Five weeks out to sea we were now 43
We buried our comrades each morning
And in our own slime, forgotten by time
Endless days without dawning

Van diemens land is a hell for a man
To live out his life in slavery
Where the climate is raw and the gun makes the law
In the winds of eight care of bravery
Twenty years have gone by and I've emptied my bond
My comrades' ghosts walk beside me
Well a rebel I came and sure I'll die the same
On a cold winters night you will find me.

2x refrain

I googled a bit and found that Gordon had written the music for Bobby.Good old Gordo has that special Canuck trait: thriftyness.

Thanks panzade for the Gordon info. It reminds me of Christy Moore's version of Sonny's Dream, actually written by native Newfoundlander Ron Hynes, who we have a friendship with. His story goes that one member of Christy's Moore's entourage visited the Rock, heard the song and loved it. Christy's companion sobered up the next day and got back to Ireland, and added some lyrics that he had forgotten. Sad thing was, Ron's song was based on a true story, of a friend who just couldn't escape the yoke of a mother's obsessive love. The Moore version includes extra lyrics about the mother dying and what not, but this is the real deal (Sonny and his mom are indeed alive and well):

Sonny's Dream
(Ron Hynes)

Sonny lives on a farm on a wide open space
Where you can take off your sneakers and give up the race
You could lay down your head by a sweet river bed
But Sonny always remembers what it was his Mama said

Sonny carries a load though he's barely a man
There ain't all that to do, still he does what he can
And he watches the sea from a room by the stairs
And the waves keep on rollin', they've done that for years

cho: Oh, Sonny don't go away, I am here all alone
And your daddy's a sailor who never comes home
And the nights get so long and the silence goes on
And I'm feeling so tired, I'm not all that strong

And it's a hundred miles to town, Sonny's never been there
And he goes to the highway and stands there and stares
And the mail comes at four and the mailman is old
Oh, but he still dreams his dreams full of silver and gold

Sonny's dreams can't be real, they're just stories he's read
They're just stars in his eyes, they're just dreams in his head
And he's hungry inside for the wide world outside
And I know I can't hold him though I've tried and I've tried

Oh, Sonny don't go away, I am here all alone
And your daddy's a sailor who never comes home
And the nights get so long and the silence goes on
And I'm feeling so tired, I'm not all that strong

(Sung by Ron Hynes on the album: "Living in a Fog"
by the Wonderful Grand Band 1981)

Definitely written by Ron Hynes. It originally appeared on
a Ron Hynes solo album (long since deleted) in the late seventies.
Hamish Imlach made up some additional lyrics and added them
after hearing the song (perhaps incomplete) during a
tour of Canada some time in the mid-eighties. This version was
then passed on to Christy Moore and then to Mary Black etc.
Ron Hynes recorded another solo album "Cryer's Paradise" in 1993.
He currently lives in Prince Edward Island, Canada. CC
Copyright Wonderful Grand Music 1976 CAPAC
CC

another Joan Baez - I can't find all the words though


Black, black, black is the colour of my true love's hair.
His lips are something wond'rous fair
The purest eyes and the bravest hands.
I love the grass whereon he stands.
I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes
And if my love no more I see
my life would quickly fade away.
Black, black, black is the colour of my true love's hair.

Sorry to disturb you,
But I was in the neighbourhood,
About a friend I've her picture,
Could you take a look?

Oh I appriciate you're busy,
And time is not your own,
Yeah maybe it would be better,
If I telephoned.

Chorus:
Carrie doesn't live here anymore,
Carrie used to room on the second floor,
Sorry that she left no forwarding address,
That was known to me.
Carrie doesn't live here anymore,
You could always ask at the corner store,
Carrie had a date with her own kind of fate,
It's plain to see.

Another missing person,
One of many we assume,
The young wear their freedom,
Like cheap perfume.
(it's useless information),
Returning my call,
(to help the situation),
They've nothing at all,
You're just another message,
On a pay phone wall,

Chorus:
Carrie doesn't live here anymore,
Carrie used to room on the second floor,
Sorry that she left no forwarding address,
That was known to me.


Cliff

What a lovely poem. Could you tell me more about it, such as who wrote it and when?

If I may indulge, on the subject of lonelyness Joni Mitchell is a master.

MARCIE

Marcie in a coat of flowers
Steps inside a candy store
Reds are sweet and greens are sour
Still no letter at her door
So she'll wash her flower curtains
Hang them in the wind to dry
Dust her tables with his shirt and
Wave another day goodbye
Marcie's faucet needs a plumber
Marcie's sorrow needs a man
Red is autumn green is summer
Greens are turning and the sand
All along the ocean beaches
Stares up empty at the sky
Marcie buys a bag of peaches
Stops a postman passing by
And summer goes
Falls to the sidewalk like string and brown paper
Winter blows
Up from the river there's no one to take her
To the sea
Marcie dresses warm its snowing
Takes a yellow cab uptown
Red is stop and green's for going
Sees a show and rides back down
Down along the Hudson River
Past the shipyards in the cold
Still no letter's been delivered
Still the winter days unfold
Like magazines
Fading in dusty grey attics and cellars
Make a dream
Dream back to summer and hear how
he tells her
Wait for me
Marcie leaves and doesn't tell us
Where or why she moved away
Red is angry green is jealous
That was all she had to say
Someone thought they saw her Sunday
Window shopping in the rain
Someone heard she bought a one-way ticket
And went west again
© 1968 Siquomb Publishing Co. (BMI)

While written in the 80s, this Nick Cave tune always reminds me a bit of that HBO show 'Carnivale':

THE CARNY
Nick Cave

And no-one saw the carny go
And the weeks flew by
Until they moved on the show
Leaving his caravan behind
It was parked out on the south east ridge
And as the company crossed the bridge
With the first rain filling the bone-dry river bed
It shone, just so, upon the edge
Dog-boy, atlas, half-man, the geeks, the hired hands
There was not one among them that did not cast an eye behind
In the hope that the carny would return to his own kind
And the carny had a horse, all skin and bone
A bow-backed nag, that he named "sorrow"
How it is buried in a shallow grave
In the then parched meadow
And the dwarves were given the task of digging the ditch
And laying the nag's carcass in the ground
And boss Bellini, waving his smoking pistol around
saying "The nag is dead Meat"
"We caint afford to carry dead weight"
The whole company standing about
Not making a sound
And turning to dwarves perched on the enclosure gate
The boss says "Bury this lump of crow bait"
And thean the rain came
Everybody running for their wagons
Tying all the canvas flaps down
The mangy cats crowling in ther cages
The bird-girl flapping and squawking around
The whole valley reeking of wet beast
Wet beast and rotten hay
Freak and brute creation
Packed up and on their way
The three dwarves peering from their wagon's hind
Moses says to Noah "We shoulda dugga deepa one"
Their grizzled faces like dying moons
Still dirty from the digging done
And as the company passed from the valley
Into a higher ground
The rain beat on the ridge and on the meadow
And on the mound
Until nothing was left, nothing at all
Except the body of sorrow
That rose in time
To float upon the surface of the eaten soil
And a murder of crows did circle round
First one, then the others flapping blackly down
And the carny's van still sat upon the edge
Tilting slowly as the firm ground turned to sludge
And the rain it hammered down
And no-one saw the carny go
I say it's funny how things go

"In the summer of 1978 I stayed in a house in Maine that had a widow's walk, a very small room at the top of the house. It looked out over the harbor and had a good view of the boats as they came home. Many years later while thinking about that time, this song materialized. The reference to "silkie" is the legend of the seal-people who have the ability to come on land and live as humans. However, if they return to the water they revert to their original form forever."

THE WIDOW'S WALK
Brendan Nolan

She stood by the window
As the waves crashed the shore
To watch him come home
As he had times before

REFRAIN
Carry him home to me
Break the sea down for him
Carry my love home to me

It's late in the year
And the storm winds awaken
To the hardiest of sailors
The sea does not beckon

REFRAIN

At their shady cove moorings
The small boats rock gently
Safe from the sea winds
Till the new season's plenty

REFRAIN

This room is my refuge
From the toils of the day
It's here I find peace
And it's here I can pray

REFRAIN

If the sea take my love
To his rest in the ocean
God make me a silkie
That I could lie with him.

Hey, these are getting sad. I love sad songs.

Vivien: I think that's all except that some singers add:

And I still hope
That the time will come
When he and I will be as one
When he and I will be as one.
Yes, black is the color of my true love's hair.

Here's one that Gene Watson recorded, but I learned it from a friend who when he sang it left everybody misty eyed.

The old man told his story
About the years gone by
How he played his horn down in New Orleans
In some old dingy dive
"I knew 'em all back then." he said
As he reached out for his horn
He closed his eyes and wet his lips
Then the blues were born.

He played with so much feelin'
Tears came from his eyes
He stopped and reminisced a bit
And then he gave a sigh!
Said, "You know, I almost made it
But that was before your time
Dixieland, Po' Folks Blues
ScatMan Jack and wine."

Slapped his knee and gave a grin
It sure was good back then
Reaching for his horn on the floor
Placed it in an old towsack
That hung across his back
He said "Goodbye!"
And shuffled out the door.

Enthused by what he told me
I never got his name
So, I called the waitress over
And started to explain
A tired old man - his tarnished horn
Mem'ries of years gone by
How he played his horn and reminisced
Smiled with tear-dimmed eyes.

She said you are mistaken
There's been no one but you
But I know who you're talkin' 'bout
I used to know him, too
You'll find him down on Basin Street
In back of an old churchyard
A stone that reads, "Rest in Peace"
I tried but it sure was hard."

Re: Songs That Tell Stories
[/quote]

Candle In The Wind - Elton John (aka: Marilyn Monroe)


Goodbye Norma Jean
Though I never knew you at all
You had the grace to uphold yourself
While those around you crawled

They crawled out of the woodwork
And they whispered into your brain
They set you on a treadmill
And they made you change your name

And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did

Lonliness was tough
The toughest role you ever played
Hollywood created a superstar
And pain was the price you paid

Even when you died
Oh, the press still hounded you
All the papers had to say
Was that Marilyn was found in the nude

And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did

Goodbye Norma Jean
Though I never knew you at all
Goodbye Norma Jean
From the young man in the twenty-second row
Who sees you as something more than sexual
More than just Marilyn Monroe

And it seems to me, you lived your life
Like a candle in the wind
Never knowing who to cling to
When the rain set in
And I would have liked to have known you
But I was just a kid
Your candle burned out long before
Your legend ever did

Goodbye Norma Jean
Goodbye Norma Jean
Goodbye
Goodbye Norma Jean