Jim Sharkey, Folk Musician

LYRICS

SWEET ANNE'S ROAD 

Written by Jim Sharkey 

Kind friends my heart is broken I can no longer stand Since my true love Joshua's gone to fight in Afghanistan He left me here to mourn and weep to worry and forebode To roam the fields round Copper Hill just off of Sweet Anne's Road 

I met him at the high school football game he played for The Buffaloes In all my life I ne'er did meet a boy so brash and bold He said I had the sweetest smile of all the girls he'd known And he walked me home to Copper Hill just off of Sweet Anne's Road 

The day that he was leaving he smiled and with his hand He touched my lips and gleaned a kiss to have at his command And into his breast pocket he placed it soft and slow, saying I'll never be too far now from my girl on Sweet Anne's Road 

BRIDGE:

Like the waters that flow from our land down to Roanoke Drop by drop he slipped away As year after year they called his name And he'd go back again 

In the Helmand River Valley where the hardened poppies grow He stepped upon an IED they said he never knew They said he never felt a thing but how are they to know The white pines they hang heavy now by the side of Sweet Anne's Road 

BRIDGE:

Like the waters that flow from our land down to Roanoke Drop by drop he slipped away As year after year they called his name And he'd go back again 

Kind friends my heart is broken I can no longer stand Since my true love Joshua went to fight in Afghanistan He left me here to mourn and weep to worry and forebode To roam the fields round Copper Hill just off of Sweet Anne's Road Oh I roam the fields round Copper Hill just off of Sweet Anne's Road 

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SEPTEMBER

written by Jim Sharkey 

I'll see you in September when the leaves are turning on the trees Your face will be one of splendor Your soft voice so welcome and dear 

Life grows cold here in New England the wood fires glow and warm the nights As the hummingbird and the woodcock leaves us The first frost spikes the silent light 

I watch the boats in Winter Harbor The heaving waves and the weight of time The lobster buoys bind their treasures They swing and sway with the ocean tide 

I'll see you in September when the leaves are falling from the trees Your face will be one of splendor Your soft voice so welcome and dear 

Oh, my daughter, I can summon so many pictures from the years The joy, and gladness, the love, the sadness The pain of life and unsettled tears 

But few of those pictures summoned Can ever match my struggles now Watching you drive south on Main Street My spirit crumbles and tears fall down 

I'll see you in September You must go and find your way I will loose the aging tethers And replace them another day 

I'll see you in September The Downeaster travels your way We'll go find an old-fashioned diner And walk along the south shore bay 

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BLOW THE CANDLE OUT 

(Traditional, music by Jim Sharkey) 

It's of a young apprentice Who went to court his dear The moon was shining bright-e-ly, And the stars were twinkling clear There he went to his love's window To ease her of her pain She quickly rose to let him in And went to bed again. 

My father and my mother In yonder room do lay They're embracing one another And so may you and I 

They're embracing one another Without a fear or doubt Saying: Take me in your arms, my love, And blow the candle out 

My mother she'd be angry If she should come to know My father he'd be angry too, To prove my overthrow I would not forfeit five guineas now That they should find me out So take me in your arms, my love, And blow the candle out. 

O when your baby it is born You may bounce it on your knee And if it be a baby boy Then name it after me For when nine months are over My apprenticeship is out I'll return and do my duty And blow the candle out. 

Now six months they were over, Six months and a day He wrote his love a letter, Sayin' he was going away 

He wrote his love a letter, Without a fear or doubt That he would not return again To blow the candle out. 

Come all you pretty young girls A warning take by me And don't be quick to fall in love With everyone you see 

For when they're in their prenticeship They'll swear their time is out Then they'll leave you, as mine left me, To blow the candle out. 

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At the end of this song Burt Mitchell played a variation of a beautiful tune called The Kerfunten, written by Hammy Hamilton. In addition to writing music Hammy makes flutes out of his shop in Macroom, County Cork. You can find out more info here at his websitewww.hamiltonflutes.com 

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THE THREE RAVENS 

(Traditional with music by Jim Sharkey) 

There were three Ravens sat on a tree There were three Ravens sat on a tree There were three Ravens sat on a tree They were as black as they might be 

The one of them said to his mate Where shall we our breakfast take? Down in yonder green field There lies a slain knight under a shield 

His hounds they lie down at his feet His hounds so well there master keep His bitter hawks fly swift and sly There's no fowl there to him come nigh 

Down there comes a fallow doe As great with young as she might go She stoops and lifts up his bloody head To kiss his wounds that were so red 

She got him up upon her back And carried him to the earthen lake She buried him before the prime And died herself before evening time 

God send every gentleman God send every gentleman God send every gentleman Such hawks, such hounds, and partisan 

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VENUS DE MILO, 1820 

(Written by Lisal Kayati Roberts, music by Jim Sharkey)

She knew her own beauty long before it was discovered by ordinary men Their fingernails dirtied with years 

of tending to their own animals and the earth they slouched against They were heard telling small excited stories About the only God they understood 

She was found broken and still with dignity They brushed the fine, dark soil from an unworried brow And lifted her away from her hiding She looks at us gently now even and knowing She has kept company with Gods and sometimes, men. 

Heaven is a subtle place and Venus she has always appeared brightly A small sun in our dark familiar nights. It isn't meanness in her self-absorbed posture It's surely a kind of sadness any of us might remember knowing your arms will never embrace the light again 

She knew her own beauty long before it was discovered by ordinary men Their fingernails dirtied with years of tending to their own animals and the earth they slouched against They were heard telling small excited stories About the only God they understood 

Heaven is a subtle place Heaven is a subtle place 

There were three ravens sat on a tree There were three ravens sat on a tree The one of them said to his mate Where shall we our breakfast take 

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THE FAIR MAID IN THE GARDEN 

(Traditional; with additional words and music by Jim Sharkey) 

A pretty fair maid in the garden A journeyed soldier passing by He did stop and he addressed her “Pretty miss, won't you marry me” 

“No, kind sir, a man of honor A man of honor you may be Would you impose upon a lady Who to you a bride can't be?” 

“Cause I have a sweetheart cross the ocean He has been gone for ten long years, And if he's dead I hope he's happy Or in some battle being slain.” 

“And if he is to some girl married I'll love the girl that married him. If it's her he needs to make him happy What do I care? Good luck to them.” 

The soldier reached into his pocket and Took out the ring she'd given him So long ago in the self same garden When he swore to return again 

Straight up she le'pt before him He picked her up into his arms And gave her kisses one, two, three, and wondered “If I'd 'ae stayed gone ten more years, Would you still be here to marry me?” 

“Oh! no, kind sir a man of honor A man of honor you surely be Would you impose upon a lady A single life through my tender years?” That'd be asking too much of me 

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THE HOUSE OF CARDS 

(written by Jim Sharkey) 

It's Saturday morning, the sun's heating up The coffee pot over the market square I'm thinking of times that had long been forgotten And watching the vendors unloading their wares 

There's little blue candles, stained glass and instruments Birdhouses, produce, jewelry, and soap There's handbuilt stoneware from down in Floyd County "How much for the vase, will you take twenty-five?"

There's honey from Bedford, from Grandin there's sweet bread Baked by a man, a nice fellow he seems He's asking the passers-by, if they would like to try A sample or two of his cranberry cakes 

You used to bake the children's birthday cakes German chocolate, red velvet and more Now the children are gone away and so are the recipes I'm having a hard time; as time passes on 

CHORUS:

And the house of cards has been torn and tumbled down Swept from the foundations by a hurricane wind I was wrong from the start, I was wrong from the get-go I was wrong to assume that I'd be first to part

Being alone was an unwelcome notion A vague and dismissive uncertainty So I never thought much, no more than a young child Safeguarded and sheltered by its family 

Down on the Greenway by the wandering river I'll walk till my troubles have drifted away And when they're long gone I'll stop and look round To gaze on the life so sweetly we shared 

CHORUS:

And the house of cards has been torn and tumbled down Swept from the foundations by a hurricane wind I was wrong from the start, I was wrong from the get-go I was wrong to assume that I'd be first to part

BRIDGE: If there was one thing I could do If there was one thing I could say I'd say please stay at home and don't go out today 

It's Saturday evening, the mountains around town Are closing their eyes to drift into sleep A Norfolk Southern bound for the coal mine Slips out of the station a promise to keep 

The young folks gather down on Salem Avenue In tap rooms and taverns, rest'rants and bars You always said it's nice to see youngsters Enjoying their lives wherever they are 

BRIDGE: If there was one thing I could do If there was one thing I could say I'd say please stay at home and don't go out today. 

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MAN WITHOUT A COUNTRY 

written by Jim Sharkey 

My hands are trembling, behind my back And the mind's recalling the times we had At home in Sligo, in Toorlestran 

Walking with Delia, holdin' her sweet hand Words were spoken, promises made I loved her dearly, we were going to wed But the blight set in, by forty-five 

The potatoes rotted, poisoned overnight 

Fair play is the name of the game But the rules keep changing Nothing stays the same I'm on the bottom with no place to go A man without a country looking for a home 

I buried Delia in 'forty-six She died of fever and politics I sailed from Galway and said goodbye To the land I loved, it was never mine 

It's the land of landlords and middlemen The rack-renting agents that divide the land There's work here in Boston or way out west Where the Mississippi Riverboats never rest 

Fair play is the name of the game But the rules keep changing Nothing stays the same I'm on the bottom, there's only one place to go For a man without a country looking for a home oh 

There wasn't much in Boston, or in NewYork town Plenty of servitude and slander going round I joined the army, to march out west And crossed the Rio Grande, into Mexico we pressed 

How I got here, I'll never know A sense of justice or injustice, I don't know Six-hundred Irishmen joined with Mexico And fought with John Reilly looking for a home 

At Cerra Gordo and Buena Vista too We fought Scott's army with a fire they never knew But at Churubusco, with cannon and shell And the "Mississippi Rifle" balls they blew us all to hell 

Fair play is the name of the game I'll not ask forgiveness that'll never change To die a traitor I'll never do, The right and the wrong of it all I'll leave that up to you 

So spring the trapdoor, I'm not afraid My heart is aching, you'll take that away My eyes are covered, but I see clearly now My life's meant nothing, it never did somehow 

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THE CAMPAIGN SONG 

(written by Jim Sharkey) 

Hiddle ee ey il doodle dum diddly eye dil day What's this your name is? Ah! Hiddle ee ey il doodle dum diddly eye dil day What's this your name is? 

Milo is it? God! I don't know you at all, Milo. But it's no problem, come in we'll get you fixed up 

When the polls come out and you're way down south And you think it's time to be baling out Then call me My name is John 

I can write a song To boost your campaign Throughout the county 

I'm known throughout the music biz I've loads of hits, I'm a wonder kid it's no biggie at all but/ listen here When you're in a race, it helps to place yourself above the pack with a catchy ditty - For example, 

I Like Ike; Tippecanoe and Tyler Too; The Ode to the Georgia Farmer; The Sidewalks of New York; Hello Lyndon; Happy Day's Are Here Again, it's a Beautiful Day, you're Welcome to the Cabaret 

Now you can't play any song you like 'cause they'll tell ya / go on and take a hike / you can't use it Wasn't Ronald Reagan Born in the USA but “The Boss” didn't like the way he played; he refused him! And Neil didn't like how “The Donald” rocked, rocking in the leather chair, Rocking in the Free World So, he called him up and he said “Hey, Buck, Lanigan's Ball is available, give that a whirl instead". 

Hiddle ee ey il doodle dum diddly eye dil day What's this your name is? Ah! Hiddle ee ey il doodle dum diddly eye dil day You'll go on to greatness, but there's just one thing we have to do! 

Sit down Milo, we'll have to change your name before you run for “vacansay” / on the school board We'll call you “Moe”, off you go tell me now, when asked / do you know / What your name is? My name is MOE, that's right! Moe Morells It's more electable don't you think? Than Milo Morells. Here's the chorus now: 

WE WANT MOE! moe! Moe! moe! WE WANT MOE! moe! o! o! Moe Health Care; moe Time Off; moe Marijuana; 

moe Minimum Wage; moe Overtime; more Infrastructure Spending moe Schools; mo Teachers; moe Decent Jobs, moe Equality, these are all the good features Oh! We want Moe! Moe! Moe! Moe! We want Moe! Moe! Moe! Moe! 

No more debt. NO MOE! (Chorus response) 

No more private, profit-making prisons. NO MOE! (Chorus response) No more global warming; NO MOE! (Chorus response) No more pollution: NO MOE! (Chorus response) No mo super pacs; NO MOE! (Chorus response) 

Ah! Hiddle ee ey il doodle dum hiddly eye dil do! What's this his name is? Ah! Hiddle ee ey il doodle dum hiddly eye dil do! What's this his name is? 

His name is MOE! MOE! MOE! MOE! His name is MOE! MOE! MOE! MOE! 

Moe walls up along the Atlantic and from Lubec, Maine all the way to Seattle and south to San Diego to Brownsville and Key Largo We have to stop those immigrants that have been coming here for over Well, they've been coming here for over 400 years! I know that much ... and they're takin' over the place! 

We want Mo! Woe Wo o! Woe oh oh! REPEAT 

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I SAW FROM THE BEACH 

(by Thomas Moore) 

I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o'er the waters move gloriously on; I came when the sun o'er that beach was declining, The bark was still there, but the waters were gone. 

And such is the fate of our life's early promise, So passing the spring-tide of joy we have known; Each wave that we danced on at morning ebbs from us, And leaves us, at eve, on the bleak shore alone. 

Ne'er tell me of glories, serenely adorning The close of our day, the calm eve of our night Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of morning Her clouds and her tears are worth evening's best light 

Oh, who would not welcome that moment's returning When passion first waked a new life through his frame, And his soul, like the wood that grows precious in burning, Gave out all its sweets to love's exquisite flame. 

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ADIEU TO BELASHANNY 

(by William Allingham) 

Adieu to Belashanny! where I was bred and born; Go where I may, I'll think of you, as sure as night and morn. The kindly spot, the friendly town, where every one is known, And not a face in all the place but partly seems my own; There's not a house or window, there's not a field or hill, But, east or west, in foreign lands, I recollect them still. I leave my warm heart with you, tho' my back I'm forced to turn Adieu to Belashanny, and the winding banks of Erne! 

No more on pleasant evenings we'll saunter down the Mall, When the trout is rising to the fly, the salmon to the fall. The boat comes straining on her net, and heavily she creeps, Cast off, cast off - she feels the oars, and to her berth she sweeps; Now fore and aft keep hauling, and gathering up the clew. 

Till a silver wave of salmon rolls in among the crew. Then they may sit, with pipes a-lit, and many a joke and 'yarn' Adieu to Belashanny; and the winding banks of Erne! 

The thrush will call through Camlin groves the live- long summer day; The waters run by mossy cliff, and banks with wild flowers gay; The girls will bring their work and sing beneath a twisted thorn, Or stray with sweethearts down the path among the growing corn; Along the river-side they go, where I have often been, 

O never shall I see again the days that I have seen! A thousand chances are to one I never may return Adieu to Belashanny, and the winding banks of Erne! 

If ever I'm a money'd man, I mean, please God, to cast My golden anchor in the place where youthful years were pass'd; Though heads that now are black and brown must meanwhile gather gray, New faces rise by every hearth, and old ones drop away Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside; It's home, sweet home, where'er I roam, through lands and waters wide. And if fortune does allow me, I surely will return To my native Belashanny, and the winding banks of Erne. 

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