Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: coming soon
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

Fare thee well to you, my own true love,
there were many fare thee wells.
I am bound for California,
a place that I know right well.
So fare the well, my own true love,
when I return united we will be.
It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
but my darling when I think of thee.

I am bound on a yankee clipper ship,
Davy Crockett is her name.
And her captain’s name it is Burgess,
and they say that she’s a floating shame.

I sailed with Burgess once before,
and I think I know him well,
If a man’s a sailor he will get along,
if he’s not then he’s sure in Hell.

The ship is in the harbor, love,
and you know I can’t remain,
I know it will be a long long time
before I see you again.

So fare thee well, my own true love,
when I return united we will be.
It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
but my darling when I think of thee.

So fare thee well, my own true love,
when I return united we will be.
It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
but my darling when I think of thee

 Chords

C                      F        C
Fare thee well to you, my own true love,
G
there were many fare thee wells.
C             F    C
I am bound for California,
G         C
a place that I know right well.
G                 F        C
So fare the well, my own true love,
G
when I return united we will be.
C                                    F      C
It’s not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
G       C
but my darling when I think of thee.

Watch a Video

“Leaving of Liverpool”

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

I’ll tell you a story that happened to me
One day as I went down to Yore by the sea
The sun it was bright and the day it was warm,
Says I a quiet pint wouldn’t do me no harm

I went in and I called for a bottle of stout
Says the barman, “I’m sorry, all the beer is sold out.
Try whiskey or paddy, ten years in the wood.”
Says I, “I’ll try cider, I’ve heard that it’s good good.”

Oh never, Oh never, Oh never again
If I live to a hundred or a hundred and ten
I fell to the ground and I could not get up
After drinking a quart of the Johnny Jump Up
Ahhh…

After lowering the third I made straight for the yard
Where I bumped into Brody, the big civic guard
Come here to me boy, don’t you know I’m the law?
Well, I up with me fist and I shattered his jaw

He fell to the ground with his knees doubled up
But it wasn’t I hit him, ’twas the Johnny Jump Up
The next thing I met down in Yore by the sea
Was a cripple on crutches and says he to me

I’m afraid for me life I’ll be hit by a car
Won’t you help me on down to the Railway Men’s Bar?
After downing a pint of the cider so sweet
Well, he threw down his crutches and danced on his feet

Well, I went up the lee road, a friend for to see
They call it the madhouse in Cork by the Lea
And when I got there, sure the truth I will tell,
Well, they had the poor bugger locked up in a cell

Said the guard, testing him, say these words if you can
Around the rugged rock the ragged rascal ran
Tell him I’m not crazy, tell him I’m not mad
It was only a sip of the bottle I had

Well, a man died in the mines by the name of McNabb
They washed him and laid him outside on the slab
And after the coroners measurements did take
Well, his wife took him home to a bloody fine wake

About 12 o’clock and the beer it was high
And the corpse he sat up and he says with a sigh
I can’t get to heaven, they won’t let me up
Til I bring them a quart of the Johnny Jump Up

KEY Dm

verse/chorus:
Dm Dm C Dm
Am Am Dm Dm
Dm Dm C Dm
Dm Dm C Dm

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

Look at the coffin with golden handles
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Let’s not have a sniffle,
Let’s have a bloody good cry
And always remember the longer you live,
The sooner you’ll bloody well die

Look at the preacher, bloody well santified (bloody sanctimonious)
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the choir boys, bloody castrati
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the widow, bloody great female
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the mourners, bloody great hippocrites
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the flowers, all bloody wilted
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the tombstone, bloody great boulder
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

Look at the whiskey, in buckets and bottles
Isn’t it grand boys to be bloody well dead?

KEY C

verse:
C C F F
C C G G

chorus:
C C C C
F F C C
F F C C
G F C C

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

I left my ship with storms on my mind,
High wind and tossing seas.
I sought a maid with soft green eyes
To take my mind off me.

Hai diddle-dai-dum
Ba du diddle-dai-dum
Ba du diddle-dai diddle-dai dee
Hai diddle-dai-dum
Ba du diddle-dai-dum
Won’t you come with me?

I met a maid by waterside
Gutting the herring clean.
She took my hand, laid down her knife.
As we walked along the beach.
Singing…

She set herself down on a rock
And bade me sit at her feet.
The sun settled down and the wind did blow
The curlets across her cheek.
We sang…

I took her gently in my arms
Our bodies rolling in the sand.
When she pulled the knife out of my side
My body stopped lurching at last.

KEY G

verse:
G C D G
G D G G
G C D G
G D G G

chorus:
C D G-D-G
C D G-D-G

Background

Last night, I was watching Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I finished and after spending hours in front of the computer, I needed a break. So I decided to improvise a song on my autoharp. Once I had a nice melody, I wrote these lyrics. Then I recorded the song on my new Edirol digital recorder. Ah! There’s nothing like a good murder ballad.

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t’ither say,
‘Where sall we gang and dine today-o?’

‘In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new slain knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair.

‘His hound is to the hunting game,
His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady’s taken another mate,
So we shall mak our dinner sweet.

‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,
And I’ll pike out his bonny blue een;
Wi ae lock o his gowden hair
We’ll, theek our nest when it grows bare.

‘Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sall ken where he is gane;
Oer his white banes, when they we bare,
The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

In a cavern, in a canyon,
Excavating for a mine,
Dwelt a miner, forty-niner
And his daughter Clementine.

Oh my darling, oh my darling
Oh my darling, Clementine
Thou art lost and gone forever,
Dreadful sorry, Clementine.

Light she was and like a fairy,
And her shoes were number nine,
Herring boxes without topses
Sandals were for Clementine

Drove she ducklings to the water
Every morning just at nine,
Hit her foot against a splinter
Fell into the foaming brine.

Ruby lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles soft and fine,
But alas, I was no swimmer,
So I lost my Clementine.

In my dreams she still doth haunt me,
Robed in garments soaked in brine;
Though in life I used to love her,
Now she’s dead, I draw the line.

KEY C

verse:
C C C7 C7
F F C C
C C C7 C7

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

One evening in the month of June
As I was sitting in my room
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was “The Jug Of Punch.”

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was “The Jug Of Punch.”

What more diversion can a man desire?
Than to sit him down by an alehouse fire
Upon his knee a pretty wench
And upon the table a jug of punch.

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
Upon his knee a pretty wench
And on the table a jug of punch.

Let the doctors come with all their art
They’ll make no impression upon my heart
Even a cripple forgets his hunch
When he’s snug outside of a jug of punch.

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
T too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
Even a cripple forgets his hunch
When he’s snug outside of a jug of punch.

And if I get drunk, well, me money’s me own
And them don’t like me they can leave me alone
I’ll chune me fiddle and I’ll rosin me bow
And I’ll be welcome wherever I go.

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
T oo ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
I’ll chune me fiddle and I’ll rosin me bow
And I’ll be welcome wherever I go.

And when I’m dead and in my grave
No costly tombstone will I crave
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet.

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet.

KEY G

verse/chorus:
G C G D7
G C G D7 G

Background

A jug was and still is the best for drinking punch out of. As they say, the water and the spirits mix better.

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

Whiskey you’re the devil. You’re leading me astray
Over hills and mountains and to Amerikay
You’re sweeter, stronger, decenter, you’re spunkier than tea,
Oh, whiskey you’re me darlin’, drunk or so-ber

Oh now brave boys we’re on the march
Off to Portugal and Spain
The drums a-beating, the banners flying
The devil a-home will come tonight

Bridge:
Love fare thee well
With a tither-y-eye, the diddlum the dah
Me tither-y-eye, the diddlum the dah
Me right fol tur-a ladee
Oh, there’s whiskey in the jar

Said the mother, “Do not wrong me
Don’t take me daughter from me
For if you do, I will torment you
And after death the ghost will haunt you”

The French are fighting boldly
Men dying hot and coldly
Give every man a flask of powder
A firelock upon his shoulder

KEY Bb

Verse:
Bb Bb Bb Bb
Eb Eb Bb Bb
Eb Eb Bb Bb
F F F F

Bridge:
Bb Bb Bb Bb
Bb Bb Bb Bb
Eb Eb Eb Eb
Bb Bb Bb Bb
F F Bb Bb

Chorus:
Bb Bb Bb Bb
Eb Eb Bb Bb
Eb Eb Bb Bb
F F F F
Bb Bb Bb Bb
Eb Eb Bb Bb
Bb Bb Bb Bb
F F Bb Bb

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

And sing high Jeannie high,
Sing low Jeannie low
You can never make a singing bird
Out of a hoodie crow

My father was a gentleman, and a gentleman was he
But he’s wed me to an old man of three score years and three

Before I’d have an old man with thirty plows and land
I’d rather have a young man with only hat in hand

For when we go to bed at night he turns o’er to the wall
And never lays a hand on me till morning light dawns

Now some neighbors have advised me to drown him in a well
Some others have advised me to grind him in a mill

But I have taken my own advice and borne him to a plain
And I’ve tied him to a windmill, and he’ll never come back again

KEY D

verse:
D G D G
D G D G

chorus:
A A
G G
A A
G-A-D

Performed by Marc Gunn
From CD: Happy Songs of Death
Buy MP3: Amazon or iTunes

I’ve traveled this wide world all over
And now to another I go.
And I know the good quarters are waiting
To welcome old Rosin the Bow.

To welcome old Rosin the Bow. (x2)
And I know the good quarters are waiting
To welcome old Rosin the Bow.

When I’m dead and laid out on the counter
A voice you will hear from below,
Saying “Send down a hogshead of whisky
To drink with old Rosin the Bow.

To drink with old Rosin the Bow”. (x2)
Saying “Send down a hogshead of whisky
To drink with old Rosin the Bow”.

Then get a half dozen stout fellows
And line them all up in a row
Let them drink out of half gallon bottles
To the memory of Rosin the Bow

To the memory of Rosin the Bow (x2)
Let them drink out of half gallon bottles
To the memory of Rosin the Bow

Then get a half dozen stout fellows
And line them all stagger and go
And let ‘em dig a great hole in the meadow
And in it put Rosin the Bow.

And in it put Rosin the Bow. (x2)
Let ‘em dig a great hole in the meadow
And in it put Rosin the Bow.

Then get ye a couple of bottles.
Put one at me head and me toe.
With a diamond ring scratched upon ‘em
The name of old Rosin the Bow.

The name of old Rosin the Bow. (x2)
With a diamond ring scratched upon ‘em
The name of old Rosin the Bow.

I feel that grim reaper approaching,
That cruel remorseless old foe,
And I lift up me glass in his honour.
Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow.

Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow. (x2)
And I lift up me glass in his honour.
Take a drink with old Rosin the Bow.

KEY C

verse:
C C C C
C Am Dm G7
C C C C
F C G C

chorus:
C C F F
C Am Dm G7
C C C C
F C G7 C