Sea Music of Many Lands: The Pacific Heritage
1981 - Folkways Records FW38405 LP
Side One
Ships are Sailing/Foxhunters Reel/High Reel - Gold Ring
Seljefløyte/Strilevise/Nøtterøvalsen - Jim Nelson
Greenland Bound - Louis Killen
Fiafia 'O Lo'u Loto - Fetu O Le Afiafi
South Australia - Stan Hugill
Wreck of the C.P. Yorke - Phil Thomas
Side Two
Mocito Que Vas Remando - Grupo Raiz
The Five Gallon Jar - Jill King and Bob Webb
Décimas del Folklore Venezolano - Grupo Raiz
Come All Ye Tonguers - Jill King and Bob Webb
Blow the Man Down - Stan Hugill
The Tugboat Song - Inge Wessels
Lord Franklin - Gold Ring
Evening Song of the Happy Fisherman - Flowing Stream Ensemble
Grey Funnel Line - Louis Killen
Shallow Brown - Dick Holdstock
Credits
Recorded at the National Maritime Museum, San Francisco - Festival of the Sea 1980
Director: Robert J. Schwendinger
Research Assistant: Russell Frank
Folklorist: Charles Seemann
N.P.S. Representative: Stephen Hastings
Cover Photo: "Fu Fu" band of Ship, SIRAA, ca. 1890, in San Francisco Bay
National Maritime Museum Photo
Sound Engineer: Vince Piantanida
Photographs: Myron Gershenson
Location Recording: Phil Bailey and Mary Ward
Cover and Booklet Design: Russell Frank and Robert J. Schwendinger
Sleeve Note Excerpts
LOUIS KILLEN was born in Gateshead-on-Tyne in northeastern England. As the youngest of four sons in a family that looked upon singing as its main entertainment, he grew up with a catholic taste in music—one always leavened by the traditional songs that were sung and learned in the home, in the schools, from radio, records, and the people around him. On both sides of the Atlantic, he is an acclaimed performer of British traditional songs, ballads, and stories.
GREENLAND BOUND
"Collected by A.L. Lloyd in the early 1950's from a crew member of an Antarctic whaling factory ship. The song dates back to the Scots fleets which fished the Green land whaling grounds prior to the 1830's. It says much for the song and the resilience of traditional music that it should survive one whaling era, to appear 120 years later in another."
Once more to Greenland we are bound for to leave you all behind.
Our boats and ship are green
And our blubber hooks are keenand we sail before the wintry wind.
We left our sweethearts and our wives a-weepin' by the pier.
Cheer up now my dears
For we soon will return, for it's only half a year.
And with tarry dress we reached Stromness where the boys did go ashore.
For with whalermen scarce
And the water even less why we had to take on more.
Sut when we reached the northern ice we crowded on full sail.
Each boat was manned
With a keen and lively band all for to hunt the whale.
But it's dark and dreary grows the night and the stars begin to dawn,
For with the catchin' of the whales
And the trying of the oil, it seems like we'll never return.
But our six months bein' done we tie up again and the''boys they go ashore.
For with plenty of brass
And a bonny, bonnie lass and we'll make them taverns roar.
And to Greenland's frost we'll drink a toast, and to them we hold so dear.
Then across the icy main
To the whaling grounds again, we'll take a trip next year.
GREY FUNNEL LINE
"This song was written by Cyril Tawney in 1959. The title is a euphemism for the Royal Navy, equating the color of its funnels with those of company emblems found on commercial shipping lines. The song, though romantic, does show the boredom, loneliness, and longing for home that afflicts many who work on modern screw-driven vessels, whether the sailors be naval or merchant marine."
Don't mind the wind or the rollin' sea,
The weary nights never trouble me.
The hardest time in a sailor's day
Is to watch the sun as it sinks away.
Chorus: One more day on the Grey Funnel Line.
Oh, the finest ship that sails the sea,
It's still a prison for the likes of me.
But if I had wings like Noah's dove,
Then I'd fly up harbor to the one I love.
Now there was a time when I was free
Like a floatin' spar on the rollin' sea.
But now that spar is washed ashore,
It comes to rest at my real love's door.
Every time I gaze behind the screws,
How I long to be in Saint Peter's shoes.
Then I'd walk on down that silvery lane
And I'd take my real love in my arms again.
Oh Lord, if dreams were always real,
Then I'd put my hands on that wooden wheel
And with all my heart I'd turn her round
And I'd tell the boys that we're homeward bound.
So I'll pass the time like some machine
Until the blue ocean turns to green.
Then I'll dance on down that walk ashore
And I'll sail the Grey Funnel Line no more.
I'll sail the Grey Funnel Line no more.