Original Song Lyrics from "Straw Into Gold--Songs of Weaving, Farming, Spirituality"
WEAVING AND QUILTING
© Linda Allen
My grandmother’s hands wove
The cedar and bear grass
Into this fine basket I hold in my hands.
To hope bitter root,
camas fern, tiger lily,
Blackberries, cranberries, gifts from the land.
My great grandma Towsele
passed on her knowledge
To her daughter Sally, she was only six then.
Our tribes own designs
such as salmon gill, trail of eel
Flowers for women, and deer for the men.
My grandmother’s hands worked
with bright colored fabrics
Taken from dresses I wore long ago.
With strong cotton thread
And the finest of needles
Weaving my memories in patterns she’d sew.
My great grandma Eleanor
Passed on her knowledge
To her daughter Susan when she was just nine.
Lone star, log cabin, the sweet rose of Sharon,
Basket medallion, her favorite design.
Salmon Gill, trail of eel
Flowers and deer,
Bringing the lives
Of our ancestors near.
Lone star, log cabin, basket design,
Weaving and quilting our
stories entwine.
(Repeat)
THE BAND OF SHEARERS
By Frederick Keel, Scottish Folk Song
When summer days and heather bells
Come reakin’ o’er yon highland hills
There’s yellow corn in yonder fields
And the autumn brings a-shearing.
Singing bonnie lassie will ye gang
And shear with me the whole day long
And love will cheer us as we gang
When we join yon band o shearers.
And if the thistle it be strong
That it will hurt your milk white hand
It’s with my hook I’ll cut it down
When we join the band o shearers.
And when the shearing is all done
And slowly sinks the evening sun
We’ll have some ranting, roving fun
And forget the toils o shearing.
Singing bonnie laddie I will gang
And shear with you the whole day long
And love will guide us hand in hand
And forget the toils o shearing.
PUKALA SAM LENEK
Croatian folk song, Arr. By Ivan Ivancan
Pukala sam lenek
Na migdan denek
Oj, lenek lep lenek, svilica je moj
Oj, lenek lep lenek, svilica je moj
Prela je sam lenek…
Sivala sam lenek
Obukla sam lenek
(I cut the flax
Oh linen, beautiful linen
I spin the flax
I sew the flax
I don the linen)
THE WEAVER IS HANDSOME
Traditional English from Ballads and Songs of Southern Michigan
I am a young girl and my fortune is sad
I’ve a long time been courted
by a roving young lad.
He’s courted me highly
Both by night and by day,
and now for to leave me, he’s goin’ away.
Some say I’ll go crazy, some say I’ll go mad
For the sake of the weaver that beautiful lad.
He’s all of my life and he’s all of my joy
If I can’t have the weaver my life I’ll destroy.
I’ll cut off my hair and I’ll dress in men’s clothes
And I’ll follow the weaver wherever he goes
For the weaver is handsome, the weaver is tall
And I love the weaver the best of them all.
Her father came to her one day in great haste
Saying, “Follow the weaver
your friends to disgrace.
It’s go and get married say nothing to me
And when you are married,
see how kind I will be.”
So there she went walking down by the sea shore
His words they came to her as they oft’ done before.
For all that you say and for all that you do
Dear parents, I’ll have the weaver
In spite of all you.
THE WEAVER
From The Penguin Book of Canadian Folk Songs
As I roved out one moonlit night
The stars were shining and all things bright
I spied a pretty maid by the light of the moon
And under her apron she carried a loom
To me right whack fal
the doo-a di-do-day
Right whack fal the doo-a di-do-day
Too-ra loo-ra loo-ra lay
To me right whack fal
the doo-a di-do-day.
She says, “Young man, what trade do you bear?”
Says I, “I’m a weaver, I do declare
I am a weaver, brisk and free.”
“Would you weave upon my loom, kind sir?” said she.
There was Nancy Right and Nancy Rill
For them I wove the Diamond Twill
Nancy Blue and Nancy Brown
For them I wove the Rose and the Crown.
So I laid her down upon the grass
I braced her loom both tight and fast
And for to finish it with a joke
I topped it off with a double stroke.
OLD WOMAN IS WATCHING
© Mary Troup
Old woman is watching, watching over you
In the darkness of the storm, she is watching
She is weaving, mending, gathering the colors
She is watching over you.
|
So weave and mend, Weave and mend Gather the fragments safe And when the sacred circle sisters O woman, weave and mend |
Weave and mend, weave and mend |
SHEEPSHEARING
From Cecil Sharp’s Collection of English Folk Songs
How delightful to see in those evenings of spring
When the sheep are a-going to the fold.
The master do sing as he views everything
And the dog goes before him when told
And the dog goes before him when told.
The sixth month of the year
in the month they call June
When the weather’s too hot to be borne.
The master do say as he goes on his way,
Tomorrow my sheep shall be shorn
Tomorrow my sheep shall be shorn.
Now as for those sheep, they’re delightful to see
They’re a blessing to us all on the farm
It’s the best of all food for their flesh it is good
And the wool it will clothe us up warm
And the wool it will clothe us up warm.
Now, the sheep they’re all shorn
and the wool carried home
Here’s a health to our master and flock.
And if we should stay ‘till we all goes away
I’m afraid ‘twill be passed twelve o’ clock
I’m afraid ‘twill be passed twelve o’ clock.
WE ARE THE FLOW
© Z. Budapest & Shekinah Mountainwater
Flowing to the ocean
we all come from the goddess.
And to her we shall return like a drop of rain.
I am a strong woman, I am a story woman,
I am a healer whose soul will never die.
We are the flow, we are the ebb,
We are the weaver, we are the web.
THE DANCE GOES ON
Source Unknown
Round and round we go
we hold each others hands
and weave ourselves in a circle.
The night is long the dance goes on.
WE ARE A WHEEL
Hildegard of Bingen, lyrics
Music©Betty Wendelborn.
Arr. by Straw Into Gold
We are a wheel, a circle of life.
We are a wheel, a circle of power.
We are a wheel, a circle of light.
Weavers of change this sacred hour.
THE CHILD WITHIN
© Anne Hills
In St. Mary’s, West Virginia
out on Federal Ridge
Look passed the farm house is a bridge
Where the Sugar creek winds
past abandoned fields and mines
And a nineteen-thirty-six Chevy in a ditch.
Well, you can feel the summer heat
in the air and at your feet
With cicada’s voices is rising in the sun.
And I can be there in a minute
see the tractor and me in it
by my papa with my childhood happy gone.
So roll these moments back
leave me standing solid in the track
Then let the child inside me
guide me home
And in the forest of my childhood
let me roam.
Well I can hear my grandpa sayin’
that we only learn to live
Just about the time it’s time for us to die.
And the lessons that we learn
are the bridges that we burn
Always with us, yet behind us, out of sight.
‘Cause nothing stops the passing of the years
Or can keep away the trouble and the tears
But many times after we remember the laughter
When we need to find a shelter from our fears
In St. Mary’s, West Virginia,
out on Federal Ridge
Look passed the farm house there’s a bridge
Where the Sugar Creek winds
passed abandoned fields and mines,
and a nineteen-thirty-six Chevy in a ditch.
TAKE ME BACK
Appalachian Round, Source Unknown
Take me back o’ hills I love,
lift me from this lonely bed.
Light my way with stars above,
curls soft winds above my head.
Wash my feet in crystal streams
cradle my arms in boughs of oak.
Breath a scent of pine for dreams,
wrap me tight in earthen cloak.
MOUNTAIN FIELD
© Pete Sutherland, Epact Music
It’s one more year this mountain field I till
It’s one more year this mountain field I till
No stones, nor buried sticks
again can play me tricks
I wish I knew my darling’s heart is well.
When it was fine and dry I prayed for rain
When it was fine and dry I prayed for rain
But when the rain drops fall
and all the weeds grow tall
It’s then I pray the sun would shine again.
A farmer sows my seeds and by signs.
A farmer sows my seeds and by signs.
Not so love’s fragile seed,
it’s sown in time of need
and will not grow but by it’s own desire.
LOVELY AGNES
© Sally Rogers, Thrushwood Press
O’ Agnes won’t you go with me
we’ll be married in style
.
And we’ll cross Lake Michigan
so blue and so wild.
We’ll cross over Lake Michigan
Till we come to the shore.
And our orchards will blossom
for our babies as their born.
Oh yes, I will go with you
Leave Wisconsin behind
Though my parents think little of
my life on the farm.
Oh to leave the gay city life
to be buried on the farm.
But I’ll watch the orchards bloom in spring
spend the winters warming your arms.
Three children he gave her
Curtis, Addy, and Dee.
And their fourth child little Gussy came
Ten years after these.
And she raised them with a loving hand
And the firmness of mind
And she raised them through trouble times
Agnes strong willed and kind.
Now three score years have gone and passed
like the fruit on the trees.
And her children have children
with babes on their knees.
And they all join in the summer time
on the crystal lake shore
to greet lovely Agnes
now twelve years and four score.
DANCING DAKOTA
© Chuck Suchy
The music was calling quiet and clear
a voice gently falling on a listening ear.
It calls from the rivers from the wind in the trees
It calls I know you, do you know me?
For I am a dancer I am a dance.
I am a dreamer living romance.
I am all ages timeless I be.
I am Dakota will you please dance with me?
Dance Dakota far as you see
Dance your spirit renew
Dance Dakota long may we be
Dancing Dakota with you.
I am the magic of mid winter night.
I am the warmth of the spring morning light.
The aura of autumn in quiet repose
A sunset of summer, a white prairie rose.
And I have been dancing for thousands of years
With many for partners,
I’ve danced joy and tears.
To the flags ore’ me flown, I’ve given a chance
I am Dakota may I please have this dance?
I’ve danced with the sun.
I’ve dance with the rain.
I’ve danced with the ones
who have come home again.
I’ve danced with justice and with dignity.
I am Dakota, will you please dance with me?
FAREWELL MY FRIENDS
Variation on Irish Melody “Wayfaring Stranger” found in shape note singing tradition
Farewell my friends I’m bound for Canaan.
I’m traveling through the wilderness.
Your company has been delightful.
You do not leave my mind distressed.
I go away, behind to leave you
perhaps never to meet again.
But if we never have the pleasure
I hope we’ll meet on Canaan's land.