Do You Hear The People Sing?

Down in the River to Pray
As I went down in the river to pray,
studyin’ about that good old way and
who shall wear the starry crown,
oh Lord, show me the way.
Oh, sisters/brothers/fathers/mothers/sinners,
let’s go down, let’s go down,
don’t you want to go down?
Oh, sisters[/etc], let’s go down,
down in the river to pray.
 

The Ballad of John Riley
’Twas only a maid in a garden fair,
strange young man came riding by,
said, “Fair maid, will you marry me?”
This, then, sir, was her reply:
“Oh no, kind sir, I cannot marry thee,
for I’ve a love that’s sailed across the sea.
He’s been gone for seven years;
still he will return to me.”
“What if he’s in some battle slain?
Or drownded in the deep salt sea?
Or what if he’s found another love,
he’n his love both married be?”
“If he’s in some battle slain,
then I shall die when the moon doth wain,
and if he’s drownded in the deep salt sea,
I am true to his memory.
And if he’s found another love,
he’n his love both married be,
I will them health and happiness,
where they live across the sea.”
Then he picked her up in his arms so strong,
and kisses gave her, one, two, three,
saying, “Come, my love, come to me,
I’m your long-lost John Riley.”

Ballad of the Witches’ Road
Seekest thou the road to all that’s foul and fair,
gather sisters, fire, water, earth, and air.
Darkest hour, wake thy power,
earthly and divine.
Burn and brew with coven true
and glory shall be thine!
Down, down, down the road,
down the witches’ road.
Circle sewn with fate,
unlock thy hidden gate.
Marching ever forward ’neath the wooded shrine,
I stray not from the path,
I hold Death’s hand in mine.
Primal night giveth sight,
familiar by thy side.
If one be gone we carry on,
Spirit as our guide.
Down, down, down the road,
down the witches’ road.
Blood and tears and bone,
Maiden, Mother, Crone.
The road is wild and wicked, winding through the wood.
Where all that’s wrong is right
and all that’s bad is good.
Through many miles of tricks and trials,
we’ll wander high and low.
Tame your fears, a door appears,
the time has come to go.
Down, down, down the road,
down the witches’ road.
Follow me, my friend
to glory at the end.

Savage Daughter
I am my mother’s savage daughter,
the one who runs barefoot, cursing sharp stones.
I am my mother’s savage daughter,
I will not cut my hair,

I will not lower my voice.
My mother’s child is a savage,
she looks for her omens in the colours of stone,
in the faces of cats and the falling of feathers,
in the dancing of fire and the curve of old bone.
My mother’s child dances in darkness,
she sings heathen songs by the light of the moon,
and watches the stars and renames the planets
and thinks she can reach them with a song and a broom.
We are all brought forth out of darkness
into this world through blood and through pain,
and deep in our bones the old songs are rising,
so sing them with voices of thunder and rain.
 

I’ll fly away
Some glad morning when this life is o’er,
I’ll fly away,
to a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away.
I’ll fly away, oh glory,
I’ll fly away.
When I die, hallelujah, by and by,
I’ll fly away.
When the shadows of this life are gone,
I’ll fly away,
like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I’ll fly away.
Just a few more weary days and then
I’ll fly away,
to a land where joys will never end,
I’ll fly away.
 

Hoist the colours
The king and his men
stole the queen from her bed
and bound her in her bones.
The seas by ours and by the powers,
where we roam, we’ll roam.

Yo ho, all hands, hoist the colours high.
Heave ho, thief and beggar,
never shall we die.
Yo ho, haul together, hoist the colours high.
Heave ho, thief and beggar,
never shall we die.
Some have died and some are alive,
and others sail on the sea.
With the keys to the cage and the devil to pay,
we lay to Fiddler’s Green.
The bell has been raised from its watery grave,
hear its sepulchral tone:
a call to all to heed the squall.
Turn your sails to home.
Drink up, me hearties, yo ho!
 

General Taylor
Well, General Taylor gained the day,
walk him along, John, carry him along.
Well, General Taylor gained the day.
Carry him to his buryin’ ground.
Tell me, way, hey, you stormy,
walk him along, John, carry him along.
Tell me, way, hey, you stormy.
Carry him to his buryin’ ground.
We’ll dig his grave with a silver spade,
A shroud of the finest silk will be made.
We’ll lower him down on a golden chain.
On every inch we’ll carve his name.
General Taylor, he’s all the go!
Gone where the stormy winds won’t blow.
General Taylor, he’s dead and he’s gone!
Well, General Taylor, he’s dead and he’s gone!
 

John Paul Jones is a Pirate
Set, feet, row, set, feet, row…

John Paul Jones is a pirate,
no loyalty does he possess.
Keep it up! We’ll catch the pirate,
and sink him along with the rest. Ho!
Born the son of a Scot, he was,
born the son of a Scot.
But cut a man down in his prime he did,
so away to Virginia he got. Ho!
Raised the flag of the Yanks, he did,
raised the flag of the Yanks.
They hailed him as a hero, they did,
and hoisted him up through the ranks. Ho!
Sailed at the head of the French, he did,
sailed at the head of the French,
but they swindled him out of his cash, they did
so away from them all he did wrench. Ho!
Now he’s kicking up storms in the Black Sea,
he’s kicking up storms in the Black Sea.
Fighting the Turks for the Russian queen,
’cause she pays him much more than the Yankee. Ho!
John Paul Jones is a pirate,
he may be just a chancer at best.
Keep it up! We’ll catch the pirate,
and sink him along with the rest. Ho!
 

A Drop of Nelson’s Blood
Oh, a drop of Nelson’s blood wouldn’t do us any harm,
and we’ll all hang on behind.
And we’ll roll the old chariot along
and we’ll all hang on behind.
Oh, a bottle of rum wouldn’t do us any harm…
Oh, a night with the boys wouldn’t do us any harm…
Oh, a round on the house wouldn’t do us any harm…
Oh, a pot of Irish stew wouldn’t do us any harm…
Oh, to see the lights of home wouldn’t do us any harm…

The Wellerman
There once was a ship that put to sea
and the name of the ship was the Billy o’ Tea.
The winds blew hard, her bow dipped down,
blow me bully boys, blow!
Soon may the Wellerman come,
to bring us sugar and tea and rum.
One day when the tonguing is done,
we’ll take our leave and go!
She had not been two weeks from shore
when down on her a right whale bore.
The captain called all hands and swore
he’d take that whale in tow.
Before the boat had hit the water,
the whale’s tail came up and caught her,
and hands to the side, harpooned and fought her
when she dived down below.
No line was cut, no whale was freed:
the captain’s mind was not on greed,
and he belonged to the Whaleman’s Creed;
she took that ship in tow.
For forty days or even more,
the line went slack then tight once more,
all boats were lost, there were only four,
but still that whale did go.
As far’s I’ve heard, the fight’s still on,
the line’s not cut and the whale’s not gone!
The Wellerman makes his regular call
to encourage the captain, crew and all.
 

The Rains of Castamere
And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that’s all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
and mine are long and sharp, my Lord,

as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that Lord of Castamere,
but now the rains weep o’er his hall
and not a soul to hear.
 

The Hanging Tree
Are you, are you coming to the tree,
where they strung up a man
they say who murdered three;
strange things did happen here,
no stranger would it be if we met at midnight
in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you coming to the tree,
where a dead man called out
for his love to flee;
strange things did happen here,
no stranger would it be if we met at midnight
in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you coming to the tree
where I told you to run
so we’d both be free?
Strange things did happen here,
no stranger would it be if we met at midnight
in the hanging tree.
Are you, are you coming to the tree,
wear a necklace of hope
side by side with me;
strange things did happen here,
no stranger would it be if we met at midnight
in the hanging tree.
We Are the Ghor
Raise your eyes to homeland skies;
We are the Ghor.
Breathe the air and know you’re there;
We are the Ghor.
Valley, highland,
let me spend my every day there.
Call your kin to come and sing;

We are the Ghor.
Voices loud and standing proud;
We are the Ghor.
Valley, highland,
let me spend my every day there.
Tight the weave and roll the sleeve;
We are the Ghor.
From Navishare to Palmo Square,
We are the Ghor.
Valley, highland,
let me spend my every day there…
there.
 

Do you hear the people sing?
Do you hear the people sing,
singing the song of angry men,
it is the music of a people
who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
echoes the beating of the drum,
there is a life about to start
when tomorrow comes.
Will you join in our crusade,
who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade is there a world you long to see?
Then join in the fight that will give you the right to be free!
Do you hear the people sing,
singing the song of angry women,
it is the music of a people
who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
echoes the beating of the drum,
there is a life about to start
when tomorrow comes.
They will live again in freedom
in the garden of the Lord,
they will walk behind the ploughshare,
they will put away the sword.
The chain will be broken,
the downtrod will have their reward!
 

We shall overcome

We shall overcome, we shall overcome,
we shall overcome someday.
Oh, deep in my heart I do believe
we shall overcome someday.
We’ll walk hand in hand…
There’ll be no more war…
We are not alone today…
We shall live in peace…
We shall overcome…