Track 2. Thousands are Sailing to Amerikay

Lyrics: traditional Irish

Music: Bruce

You brave Irish heroes wherever you be
I pray stand a moment and listen to me
Your sons and fair daughters are now going away
And thousands are sailing to America

The night before leaving they are bidding goodbye
And it's early next morning their heart gives a sigh
They do kiss their mothers and then they do say
Fare thee well, dearest father, we must now go away

    So good luck to those people and safe may they land
   They are leaving their country for a far distant strand
   They are leaving old Ireland, no longer can stay
   And thousands are sailing to America

 

Their friends and relations, their neighbours also
When the trunks they are packed up all ready to go

Their hearts will be breaking on leaving the shore

Fare thee well, dear old Ireland, we will ne'er see you more

So I pity the mother that rears up the child
And likewise the father who labours and toils
To try to support them he will work night and day
And when they are reared up they will go away

​​

Track 3. Dreamer             

Poetry: Don Blanding, Vagabond’s House 1928

Music: Marla & Bruce

I don’t suppose I’ll ever see 

A dryad slipping from her tree

Nor hear the pulsing pipes of pan

Although sometimes I think I can

 

I don’t suppose I’ll ever see 

A selkie slip into the sea

Nor see the moon-nymphs dance at night

And yet perhaps...perhaps I might

 

And once beside a blue lagoon

Beneath a witching tropic moon

I saw the flash of silver scales

The kind that grow on mermaid’s tails

    I watch the waves break on the rocks

    And in between the thundered shocks

    I think that I can almost hear

    The sirens singing sweet and clear

I don’t suppose I’ll ever see

These things that mean so much to me

But if I watch by night, by day

You cannot tell...perhaps I may

Track 4. The Lanterns of St. Eulalie

Poetry: Carman & Hovey, Last Songs from Vagabondia 1900

Music: Marla & Bruce

In the October afternoon

Orange and purple and maroon

Goes quiet Autumn, lamp in hand

About the apple-coloured land

 

To light in every apple-tree

The Lanterns of St. Eulalie

They glimmer in the orchard shade

Like fiery opals set in jade

    And O when I am far away

    By foaming reel or azure bay

    In dream once more I shall behold

    Like signal lights, those globes of gold

 

In crowded street or hot lagoon

Or under the strange austral moon

The running dikes, the brimming tide

Dark firs on Fundy side

      When the homesickness comes on me

      For the great Marshes by the sea

      Crimson and russet and raw gold,

      Yellow and green and scarlet old

 

In the October afternoon

Orange and purple and maroon,

Hung out in every apple-tree

The Lanterns of St. Eulalie

 

Track 5. Every Migrant is My Fellow

Poetry: Spring Song, Carman & Hovey, Songs from Vagabondia 1894

Music: Marla & Bruce

 

Make me over, mother April

When the sap begins to stir!

When thy flowery hand delivers

All the mountain-prisoned rivers

And thy great heart beats and quivers

To revive the days that were

Make me over, mother April

When the sap begins to stir!

 

Take my dust and all my dreaming

Count my heart-beats one by one

Send them where the winters perish

And the mornings dawn most fairish

Then some golden noon re-cherish

And restore them in the sun

Take my dust and all my dreaming

Count my heart-beats one by one!

Set me in the urge and tide-drift

Of the streaming hosts a-wing!

Breast of scarlet, throat of yellow

Raucous challenge, wooings mellow

Every migrant is my fellow

Making northward with the spring

Loose me in the urge and tide-drift

Of the streaming hosts a-wing!

 

     Strong insistence, sweet intrusion

     Vasts and verges of illusion

     So I win, to time's confusion

     That one perfect pearl of time

Shrilling pipe or fluting whistle

In the valleys come again

Fife of frog and call of tree-toad

All my brothers, five or three-toed

With their revel no more vetoed

Making music in the rain

Shrilling pipe or fluting whistle

In the valleys come again

Give me some old clue to follow

Through the labyrinth of night!

Clod of clay with heart of fire

Things that burrow and aspire

With the vanishing desire

For the perishing delight

Give me some old clue to follow

Through the labyrinth of night!

Make me over in the morning

From the rag-bag of the world!

Scraps of dream and duds of daring

Home-brought stuff from far sea-faring

Faded colors once so flaring

Shreds of banners long since furled!

Hues of ash and glints of glory

In the rag-bag of the world!

 

Track 7. May & June 

Poetry: Carman & Hovey, Last Songs from Vagabondia 1900

Music: Marla & Bruce

May comes, day comes

One who was away comes

All the earth is glad again

Kind and fair to me

 

May comes, day comes

One who was away comes

Set his place at hearth and board

As they used to be

 

    June comes, and the moon comes

    Out of the curving sea

    Like a frail golden bubble

    To hang in the lilac tree

    June comes, and a croon comes

    Up from the old gray sea

    But not the longed-for footstep

    And the voice at the door for me

 

May comes, day comes

One who was away comes

Higher are the hills of home

Bluer is the sea

Track 8.  From Sandwood Down to Kyle  © 1970 David Goulder, Robbins Music

 

One Monday morn as I walked out
The wild birds for to see
I met a man upon the road
And asked for charity

Come home with me, you'll drink your fill
And comforts you shall find
And tell me why you walk the road
That leaves the hills behind

For time has spent the summer sir
And soon the leaves will fall
I hear the sound within the wind
That plays around your walls

The bird must flee the winter sir
She cannot stay behind
To build her nest upon the snow
How can I look for mine?

But if I had a hundred homes
To live in each a while
I'd build them all along the coast
From Sandwood down to Kyle
 

Track 9. Lonesome Robin    ©1973 Bob Coltman 

Rise up from your bed of straw
See if you can bend that short bow one last time
Speak from your wounds and say you don't care
You know it'll prey on your mind
Wherever your arrow it falls to the ground
Lay lonesome Robin down one last time

 

    No more, Robin, no more
  Your outlaw days are over

 

When you were a little boy
You had to go to bed early while the sun still shone
Just like sleep was the end of the world
And tomorrow would never never come
So now lonesome Robin won't you close your eyes
So that the sun it will rise one last time

 

It's funny how hot is the sun
Now that you can't run away to the shade
Just lie there and think of the deer you have run
And of all the games that you've played
And wondering what Marian's bound to do that's better
Than coming to see you one last time

 

And time's taken your time away
Time and deceptions have whittled you down
All of the dreams that ever you had
Have took to their heels and run
Hold on to whatever is closest to you
That's all lonesome Robin can do one last time
 

Track 10. A Sigh in a Gale

Lyrics for Sigh in a Gale are all excerpts from Dana Walrath's verse novel about the Armenian genocide, Like Water on Stone (2014), except where noted.  Additional lyrics indicated by *

Music and additional lyrics by Marla

You’re looking for a donkey while sitting on its back

Stop wanting, your eyes will be open

Would you leave this land where music flows and break again your mother’s heart?

 

Sons hear, as eagles see

Both suffer when they cannot fly

Long deep notes pull me up to the sky

        

   *A tear in the ocean   

   *A blink in the blackness

 

Our holy books differ by one prophet alone

You men are my brothers

Lydian melodies like oil flowed, Mother tongues in unison

 

Mystery and power come in through the quill

Flow through and shape me, like water on stone

Papa always played, but I did not hear the oud before

 

     If my quill could pull laments from the strings of an oud

     I thought then my heart might heal

     We eagles sing no soothing songs

     Our throats can only whistle

 

Answers shift to find new paths

like water flowing through stones

Where is there a tree not shaken by the wind?

 

Carpets fray at the edges, not where the weave is tight

In the center, It takes a knife to cut

Hate makes jagged spikes of light and blame can pierce the sky  

 

  *Like a tear in the ocean

  *Like a blink in the blackness; blackness

  *Like a sigh in a gale

Where the needle passes, the thread passes too

Thunder clouds don’t always bring rain

The sun it does not shine on one man keeping others in the dark. 

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Every Migrant is My Fellow
Lyrics