Disc 1 | ||||||
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1. |
| 3:59 | ||||
2. |
| 4:20 | ||||
This is the day the fisherman likes
And so do I When the rain puts a shine on the chestnut spikes Hear the curlews cry The nightingale sings her best We'll drink a pint in hamiltons rest And the girl I love wore a muslin dress The fisherman dream of the sun in the west And so do I And so do I Now I can see Since the girl I love dearly Has cast her loving spell on me This is the day the cuckoo likes And so do I When the hills fall down in different shapes And the swallows fly To a hidden beach where boats can't go Mountain rivers overflow I hear the squealin' of the seagulls As off home they go And so do I And so do I Now I can see Since the girl I love dearly Has cast her loving spell on me I'll cross the seven oceans Forever more I'll wander 'Till she has cast her loving spell on me This is the day the fisherman likes And so do I When the rain puts a shine on the chestnut spikes Hear the curlews cry The nightingale sings her best We'll drink a pint in hamiltons rest And the girl I love wore a muslin dress The fishermen dream of the sum in the west And so do I And so do I And so do I And so do I |
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3. |
| 3:01 | ||||
4. |
| 3:21 | ||||
5. |
| 3:54 | ||||
6. |
| 4:15 | ||||
The good ship Granma lies at anchor in the harbour
Waiting for the evening tide to rise and bring high water. Bound for Cuba she must go across the Gulf of Mexico and The Caribbean Ocean She's carrying a human cargo 83 good companeros Each one burning with determination to be free CHORUS Against Batista, The Fidelistas, courage was their armour As they fought at Fidel's side with Che Guevara. Five days out from Mexico these Companeros Landed on the Cuban beach Los Colarados Fidel said this year will see our country and our people free Or else we will be martyrs We've only guns enough for 20 the enemy has arms a plenty Meet him and defeat him and he'll keep us well supplied Chorus Five weeks later in the Canyon De La Rio Fidels army was reduced to 18 Companeros Hungry, weak and unafraid, learning revolutions trade in the high Sierra Maestre Where the mountain winds did blow bearing seeds to sprout and sow New crops in Cuban soil that marked the death of slavery Chorus Companeros, tu valaderos Courage was their armour as they fought at Fidel's side with Che Guevara They made their way across the peak of El Torquino Joined by bands of volunteers and the men from Santiago They faced Batista's tanks and trains,drove them back across the plains,from the high Sierra Maestre They drove the gangsters from Los Vios straight across the Cordileros Santa Barbra fell to Che Guevara and was free. The fire lit on that Cuban beach by Fidel Castro Still shines all the way to Terra del Fuego Sparks are blown upon the breeze, people rise from off their knees when they see the night is burning. It blazes up in Venezuela, Bolivia and Guatamala Lights the road that we must go in order to be free..... |
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7. |
| 4:14 | ||||
8. |
| 3:13 | ||||
There was a woman and she lived on her own,
Slaved on her own and skivvied on her own, She'd two little boys and two little girls -- She lived all alone with her husband. He was a hunk of a man A chunk of a man and a drunk of a man, A hunk of a drunken skunk of a man Such a boozy, bruising, bully of a husband. For when he'd come home drunk at night, He'd thrash her black and thrash her white; Thrashed her to within an inch of her life, And snored all night like a big drunken husband. One night she gathered her tears all round her shame Covered up the bruise and cried with the pain, You'll not do that ever again, I'll not live anymore with a drunk of a husband. And that night as he lay drunk in bed, The strangest thought came to her head, She took the needle and the thread, And went straight in to her sleeping husband. She started to stitch with a girlish thrill With a woman's eye and a seamstress' skill, She bibbed and tucked with an iron will, A she stitched all round her sleeping husband. The top sheet, the bottom sheet, too, The blanket stitched to the mattress through, She bibbed and tucked the whole night through Waiting for the dawn and her husband. Solo (hyup!) He awoke with a pain in his head, He found that he could not move in bed, Sweet God in Heaven, have I lost me legs! She just sat and smiled at her husband. In her hand she held the frying pan With a flutter in her heart she flew at him; He could not move he cried, God damn! Don't you swear at me ya dirty husband." She beat him black, she beat him blue, With the frying pan and the colander too, With the rolling pin a stroke or two Such a battered and repenting husband. "If you ever come home drunk again, I'll stitch you up and sew you in, Then I'll pack my bag and I'll be gone, I'll not live with a drunk of a husband." Isn't it true what a wife can do With a needle, thread and a stitch or two? He's wiped his slate and his boozin's through She don't live anymore with a drunken husband. recorded by Mike Waterson, Martin Carthy, Max Hole filename( STICTIME BR |
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9. |
| 3:32 | ||||
10. |
| 4:15 | ||||
11. |
| 2:33 | ||||