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You that my verses stay to hear

by Known Dwarf

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1.
900 Miles 03:14
I’m a-walkin’ down the track I’ve got tears in my eyes I’m trying to read a letter from my home If that train runs me right I’ll be home saturday night ‘cause I’m 900 miles from my home And I hate to hear that lonesome whistle blow That lonesome train whistlin’ down Well this train I ride on Is a hundred coaches long You can hear her whistle blow a hundred miles And if that train runs me right I’ll see my woman saturday night And I hate to hear that lonesome whistle blow That lonesome train whistlin’ down I will pawn you my wagon I will pawn you my team I will pawn you my watch and my chain If that train runs me right I’ll be home saturday night ‘cause I’m 900 miles from my home And I hate to hear that lonesome whistle blow That lonesome train whistlin’ down
2.
When I was a curly-headed baby My daddy set me down on his knee Saying ``Son you go to school, you learn your letters Don't you be no dusty miner, boy like me'' I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Holler Where the coal carts rolled and rumbled past my door But now they stand in a rusty row of all empties And the L&N don't stop here anymore I used to think my father was a black man With scrip enough to buy the company store But now he goes to town with empty pockets And his face is as white as the February snow I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Holler Where the coal carts rolled and rumbled past my door But now they stand in a rusty row of all empties And the L&N don't stop here anymore Never thought I'd live to lean to love the coaldust Never thought I'd pray to hear those temples roar But God I wish the grass would turn to money And then them greenbacks would fill my pockets once more I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Holler Where the coal carts rolled and rumbled past my door But now they stand in a rusty row of all empties And the L&N don't stop here anymore Last night I dreamed I went down to the office To get my payday like I done before But them old kudzu vines was covering the doorway And there was leaves and grass growing up through the floor I was born and raised at the mouth of the Hazard Holler Where the coal carts rolled and rumbled past my door But now they stand in a rusty row of all empties And the L&N don't stop here anymore
3.
When first I landed in Liverpool I went upon the spree. While money lasts I spend it fast, got drunk as drunk could be. But before my money was all gone on liquor and the whores, I made up my mind that I was inclined to go to sea no more. No more, no more! To go to sea no more. I made up my mind that I was inclined to go to sea no more. As I was walking down the street I met with Angeline. She said: “Come home with me, my lad, and we'll have a cracking time.” But when I awoke, it was no joke, I found I was all alone. My silver watch and my money too, and my whole bloody gear was gone. Was gone, was gone! My whole bloody gear was gone. When I awoke, it was no joke for my whole bloody gear was gone. As I was walking down the street I met big Rapper Brown. I asked him if he would take me in, and he looked at me with a frown. He said, “Last time you was paid off, with me you chalked up no score, But I'll take your advance and I'll give youse a chance to go to sea once more.”. Once more, once more! To go to sea once more. I'll take your advance and I'll give youse a chance to go to sea once more.” He shipped me on board of a whaling ship bound for the Arctic seas, Where cold winds blow and there's frost and snow and Jamaica rum would freeze. And worse to bear, I'd no hardweather gear, for I'd lost all my dunnage ashore. It was then that I wished that I was dead so I'd go to sea no more. No more, no more! I'd go to sea no more. It was then that I wished that I was dead so I'd go to sea no more. Sometimes we're catching whales, my lads, but mostly we get none, With a twenty-foot oar in every paw from five o'clock in the morn. And when daylight's gone and the night coming on, you rest upon your oar, And oh boys, you wish that you was dead or snug with the girls ashore. Ashore, ashore! Snug with the girls ashore. Oh boys, you wish that you was dead or snug with the girls ashore. Come all you bold seafaring lads that listen to my song. When you go a-big-boating, I'll have you not go wrong. You take my tip, when you come off a trip, don't go with any whore, But get married instead and have all night in bed and go to sea no more. No more, no more! Don't go to sea no more. Get married, my lads, and have all night in bed and go to sea no more.
4.
Last night as I was married and on my wedding bed A press-gang came to my bed-side, these words to me they said: Arise, arise, arise young man, and come along with me, To the lowlands of Holland to fight and never flee. Oh I held me love all in my arms still thinking I might stay But the captain gave another order, I was forced to march away. Crying, “There's many a blithe young married man this night must go with me To the lowlands of Holland, to fight the enemy.” But Holland is a cold place, a place where grows no green. And Holland is a cold place for my love to wander in. Though money had been as plentiful, as leaves upon the tree, Yet before I'd time to turn myself, my love was stol'n from me. I'll build my love a gallant ship, a ship of noted fame, With four and twenty mariners to box her on the main. They'll rant and roar in sparkling glee, wheresoever they do go, To the lowlands of Holland, to face the daring foe. Says the mother to the daughter: what makes you to lament? O there are lords and dukes and squires can ease your hearts content. But never will I married be until the day I die, Since the lowlands of Holland have parted my love and me. There's not a swaithe goes round my waist, nor a comb goes in my hair, Neither firelight nor candlelight can ease my heart's despair And never will I married be until the day I die Since the lowlands of Holland have parted my love and me.
5.
You gallants and you swaggering blades. Give ear unto my ditty, I am a boon companion known In country, town, or city, I always loved to wear good clothes. And ever scorned to take blows, I am belov'd of all me know. But God a mercy penny. My father was a man well known, That us'd to hoard up money, His bags of gold, he said, to him. More sweeter were than honey. But I, his son, will let it fly In tavern or ordinary, I am beloved in company, But God a mercy penny. All parts of London I have tried, Where merchant's wares are plenty, The Royal Exchange, and fair Cheapside, With speeches fine and dainty, They bring me in for to behold Their shops of silver and of gold, There might I choose what wares I would. But God a mercy penny. For my contentment once a day I walk for recreation. Through Paul's, Ludgate, and Fleet-Street gay, To raise an elevation; Sometimes my humour is to range To Temple, Strand, and New Exchange, To see their fashions rare and strange, But God a mercy penny. The famous abbey I have seen, And have the pictures viewed Of many a noble king and queen, Which are by death subdued. And having seen the sights most rare, The watermen fully ready were, Me o'er the river Thames to bear, But God a mercy penny. Bear Garden, when I do frequent. Or the Globe on the Bank-side, They afford to me most rare content. As I full oft have tried: The best pastime that they can make. They instantly will undertake. For my delight and pleasure sake. But God a mercy penny. In every place whereas I come. Both I and my sweet Penny Got entertainment in the same. And got the love of many, Both tapsters, cooks, and vintners fine. With other jovial friends of mine, Will pledge my health in beer or wine. But God a mercy Penny. Yet will I never niggard be. While I remain in earth, But spend my money frolickly In friendship, love, and mirth; I'll drink my beer, I'll pay my score, And eke dispense some of my store. And to the needy and the poor, I'll freely give my penny. Thus to conclude as I began I wholly am inclined. Wishing that each true hearted man, A faithful friend may find: You that my verses stay to hear, Draw money for to buy me beer, The price of it is not too dear, 'T will cost you but a penny.
6.
Sally, free and easy, That should be her name, Sally, free and easy, That should be her name, Took a sailor's lovin', For a nursery game. Though the heart she gave me, Was not made of stone, Though the heart she gave me, Was not made of stone, It was sweet and hollow, Like a honey comb, Think I'll wait till sunset, See the ensign down, Think I'll wait till sunset, See the ensign down, Then I'll take the tideway, To my buryin' groun', Sally, free and easy, That should be her name, Sally, free and easy, That should be her name, When my body's landed, Hope she dies of shame.

about

Ce modeste opuscule et le disque qui l’accompagne proposent une écoute et une lecture de six chansons, assorties de quelques clés de compréhension, ou tout du moins de mise en contexte. Leur dénominateur commun est qu’on peut les qualifier de folk. Si nous ne nous hasarderons pas à en donner une définition, quelques grandes tendances peuvent toutefois être dessinées.
Elles appartiennent à un corpus de chansons traditionnelles ou composées à la manière de. Il faut comprendre dans cette expression l’écriture de textes selon des règles implicites, impliquant une syntaxe, des expressions ou le déroulement d’une narration s’intégrant dans un cadre séculaire.
Sur un plan mélodique, on y trouve un héritage de la musique modale et une adaptation de chansons à l’origine sans accompagnement instrumental, où la mélodie - hors questionnement esthétique - est un moyen de mettre en valeur un propos versifié.
Ceci étant posé, le corpus traditionnel, pour ne pas se transformer en carcan muséal, nécessite d’être sans cesse réinterprété de manière vivante, d’être transmis et valorisé. Cette réinterprétation est également tributaire de nos propres expériences musicales, permettant l'expression nos qualités musicales mais nous poussant parfois jusqu'à nos propres limites.. Mais après tout, de la même manière qu’il existe un fossé entre un enregistrement de collectage et sa relecture par un compositeur classique, rien n’empêche le passage des versions raffinées du folk revival des années 60 à une interprétation plus simple ou tout du moins plus proche de nos propres capacités et intérêts esthétiques.
Il est en effet quelque chose d’indéniable : ces chansons, si vieilles soient-elles, ont un impact et un propos actuels. Extraites de leurs cadres historiques, elles abordent toutes un sentiment, un vécu ou une expérience que tout un chacun a pu vivre ou vivra au cours de sa vie. Des bouleversements les plus abrupts aux voluptés les plus agréables, la substance de ces six titres résonne de manière férocement contemporaine. Et c’est ici que se niche l’intérêt premier des chansons traditionnelles. Elles nous rappellent l’intemporalité de nos vies, peu importe les conditions matérielles ou technologiques de nos vies modernes.
En bref, nous ne faisons pas de reprises mais des interprétations de folksongs.

Ces six titres présentés sur ce disque nous parlent d’amour, de la vie, de la mort, du travail et du non travail, de la guerre. Ils ont été enregistrés entre décembre 2015 et octobre 2016 par nos soins. Nous remercions tout particulièrement les personnes qui ont accepté de participer aux enregistrements, ainsi que celles qui nous ont fait jouer et celles qui nous soutiennent en nous suivant en concert. Des gros bisous.

credits

released October 26, 2016

M. : voix, guitares, bouzouki
C. : basse, trompette, choeurs

Merci aux personnes qui sont venues participer aux choeurs, ainsi qu'à Trombonito pour son jeu de coulisse.

Enregistré à la maison entre décembre 2015 et octobre 2016.

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Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

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Known Dwarf France

Known Dwarf revisite cinq siècles de folksongs anglo-saxonnes.
Chansons de tavernes du XVIIe siècle, vieilles ballades, chansons de mineurs et de marins, chansons de révolte, elles parlent de la vie, de l’amour, de la mort, du travail, voire de tout ça en même temps. C’est l’occasion d’y croiser les conscrits du XVIIIe siècle, les travailleurs itinérants ou les ouvriers en grève. ... more

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