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Grandfatha's Fatha
02:57
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GRANDFATHA’S FATHA
When I was a young lad and had never known a job
I would visit my grandfather once a week
And I’d listen to his tales whilst sitting on his knee
But of his days at work he’d never speak
I found out that his father had died long ago
When granda was a young lad like mysel’
It was down the pit he died whilst working on the gang
There was a big explosion so they tell
They were cut off from the world
When the big cage doors were closed
They sang and talked to keep their spirits high
Then his father told the tale
Of when he’d met Old Nick Himself
And then he joked he’d see them all in Hell
They’d both left home together
They were both on the same long shift
And with the other men they piled into the cage
But the clanging of machinery as they descended down
Was warning them “you’re going to your graves”
When the cage reached the bottom
All the men clambered out
And like tiny ants they laboured in the gloom
Then an almighty bang rent the air
As the men began to shout
And the roof caved in to seal them in their tomb
No one knew what had happened
Until the dust began to settle
It looked like there’d been a battle
With the Devil down in Hell
My grandfather had been knocked unconscious
By a beam that had grazed his skull
While his father just lay lifeless where he fell
They’d brought him to the surface
By the time that he’d come round
Someone said “Son forget what happened
To you down there in the dark”
But his mind could never escape the horror
Of seeing his poor father die
In that dark hole that was called his place of work
(Gary Miller)
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2. |
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INSTRUMENTAL MEDLEY:
a) THE HEXHAMSHIRE LASS
b) DANCE TE YER DADDY
c) THE KEEL ROW
d) KAFOOZALUM
e) WESHIN' DAY
f) THE HEXHAMSHIRE LASS (Reprise)
[Instrumental]
(Trad. arr. The Whisky Priests)
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3. |
Geordie Black
02:45
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GEORDIE BLACK
Oh my name is Geordie Black and I'm getting very old
And I've hewed tons of coal in my time
When I was a lad I could either put or hew
Out of the other ones I would always take the shine
Now I'm going down the bank and I cannot use my pick
And the master has no pity on old bones
Are you new or on the bank in amongst the bits of lads
Up upon the heath a-picking stones
Oh my name is Geordie Black in my time I've been a crack
And I've worked both the Gus and the Betty
And for coals upon the Tyne out of the others I would take the shine
And lick them all for iron down at Hawks's
Now when I was just a lad carried on my father's back
He would take me away to the pit
And getting in the cage and then going down below
Was enough to make a youngster take a fit
To sit and keep the door in the darkness and the gloom
And many a weary hour by myself
And to hear the awful shots as they rumbled around the pit
And the lumps of roondy coal come down pell mell
Oh my name is Geordie Black in my time I've been a crack
And I've worked both the Gus and the Betty
And for coals upon the Tyne out of the others I would take the shine
And lick them all for iron down at Hawks's
Now I'll bid you all goodnight for it's nearly time to lowse
And I hope I've tried to please you everyone
Mind you pray tonight and do all the things that's right
For in this world that's the way to get along
Now here's success to trade for on the Wear and Tyne
I don't like to see the faces slack
For if the pits lie idle then no wages come today
It grieves the heart of poor Geordie Black
Oh my name is Geordie Black in my time I've been a crack
And I've worked both the Gus and the Betty
And for coals upon the Tyne out of the others I would take the shine
And lick them all for iron down at Hawks's
(lyrics: Trad. arr. The Whisky Priests / music: Johnny Handle)
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4. |
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THE ROW BETWEEN THE CAGES
One morning when I went to work the sight was most exciting
I heard a noise and looked around and who do you think was fighting
I stood amazed and at them gazed to see them in such rages
I never saw a row like that between the Brockwell cages
The patent to the old cage says although I be a stranger
I can work my work as well as you and free the men from danger
But if the rope should break with me old skinny jaws just watch us
You'll see me clag on to the skeets for I'm full of springs and catches
The old cage to the patent says I warrant you think you're clever
Because they've polished you with paint but you'll not last forever
For when your paint is worn away then you'll have lost your beauty
Now they never painted me at all but still I've done my duty
When going up and down the shaft the patent cage did threaten
For to take the old one's life if they stopped it meeting
The old cage bawled out as it passed you nasty dirty patent
Rub your eyes against the skeets I think you're hardly wakened
The old cage says come over the gates because it's my intention
To let you see whether you or me is the best invention
The new one being raised took off his claes and at it they went dabbing
The blood was running down the skeets and past the weighman's cabin
The brakesman brought them both to bank the mischief for to settle
They fought from five o'clock 'til six and the patent won the battle
It took the brakesman half his shift to clag them up with plasters
The old cage sent his notice in just to vex the masters
(lyrics: Tommy Armstrong / music: Trad. arr. The Whisky Priests)
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5. |
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THE GHOST OF GEORDIE JONES
Where are you going young Geordie Jones
I’m going to Flanders o’er the sea-o
Where the birds do sing
And the valleys ring
I’m going to Flanders-o
Why are you going young Geordie Jones
I’m going to kill some Germans-o
For they’re at war with our king
And it’s time I did my thing
And kill some Germans-o
How was Flanders young Geordie Jones
It was a hell-land of fire and trenches-o
Where the shells do sing
And machines guns ring
In a hell-land of trenches-o
Where did you fall young Geordie Jones
I fell in a field of wire and mud-o
Where the dead do increase
And the shells never cease
In a field of mud-o
What did it feel like young Geordie Jones
It felt like a fire in my stomach-o
But it didn’t last long
For I soon passed on
With a fire in my stomach-o
Where were you buried young Geordie Jones
I was buried in a grave on a hill-o
And many more men
Were buried with me then
In a grave on a hill-o
Who will cry for you young Geordie Jones
A father and a mother and a widow-o
They’ll cry for me and the bairn I’ll never see
My parents and my widow-o
(Glenn Miller)
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6. |
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BYKER HILL / ELSIE MARLEY
BYKER HILL
If I had another penny
I would have another gill
I would have the fiddler play
The bonnie lads of Byker Hill
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
When I came to Walker work
I had no coat and no pit sack
Now I’m getting two or three
Walker pits done well for me
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
If I had another penny
I would have another gill
I would have the fiddler play
The bonnie lads of Byker Hill
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads forevermore
(Trad. arr. The Whisky Priests)
ELSIE MARLEY
[Instrumental]
(Trad. arr. The Whisky Priests)
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Gary Miller Durham, UK
Gary Miller first rose to international prominence with folk-punk/rock pioneers The Whisky Priests (1985-2002), founded with his twin brother Glenn - “the Joe Strummer and Mick Jones of Folk Music". He now performs as a solo artist and with his new band 'Gary Miller's Big Picture' whose debut album is coming soon. ... more
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