The Frozen Logger by James Stevens (Alternate)
As I set down one evening in a timber town cafe
A six foot-seven waitress, to me these words did say
"I see you are a logger and not a common bum
For no one but a logger stirs his coffee with his thumb
"My lover was a logger, there's none like him today
If you'd sprinkle whisky on it, he'd eat a bale of hay
He never shaved the whiskers from off his horny hide
But he'd pound 'em in with a hammer, then bite 'em off inside
"My lover came to see me one freezing winter day
He held me in a fond embrace that broke three vertebrae
He kissed me when we parted so hard it broke my jaw
And I could not speak to tell him he'd forgot his mackinaw
"I watched my logger lover going through the snow
A-sauntering gaily homeward at forty eight below
The weather tried to freeze him, it tried its level best
At a hundred degrees below zero, he buttoned up his vest
"It froze clean down to China, it froze to the stars above
At one thousand degrees below zero it froze my logger love
They tried in vain to thaw him and if you'll believe me, sir
They made him into axe blades to chop the Douglas fir
"That's how I lost my lover and to this caffay I come
And here I wait till someone stirs his coffee with his thumb
And then I tell my story of my love they could not thaw
Who kissed me when we parted so hard he broke my jaw"
2010/01/04
The Frozen Logger
The Frozen Logger by James Stevens
As I sat down one evening,
was in a small café
A forty year old waitress to me
these words did say
I see you that you are a logger
and not just a common bum
'Cause nobody but a logger
stirs his coffee with his thumb
My lover he was a logger,
there's none like him today
Well if you'd pour whiskey on him
well he'd eat a bale of hay
He never used a razor
to shave his horny hide
He'd just drive them in with a hammer
then he'd bite them off inside
My lover he came to see me
was on a freezing day
He held me in a fond embrace
that broke three vertebraes
Well he kissed me when we parted
so hard that he broke my jaw
And I could not speak to tell him
he forgot his mackinaw
I saw my lover leaving
sauntering through the snow
Well going grimly homeward
at forty eight below
Wll the weather tried to freeze himit tried its level best
At a hundred degrees below zero
why, he buttoned up his vest
It froze clean through to China
and it froze to the stars above
And at a thousand degrees below zero
it froze my logger love
And so I lost my lover
and to this café I come
And here I wait till someone
stirs his coffee with his thumb
As I sat down one evening,
was in a small café
A forty year old waitress to me
these words did say
I see you that you are a logger
and not just a common bum
'Cause nobody but a logger
stirs his coffee with his thumb
My lover he was a logger,
there's none like him today
Well if you'd pour whiskey on him
well he'd eat a bale of hay
He never used a razor
to shave his horny hide
He'd just drive them in with a hammer
then he'd bite them off inside
My lover he came to see me
was on a freezing day
He held me in a fond embrace
that broke three vertebraes
Well he kissed me when we parted
so hard that he broke my jaw
And I could not speak to tell him
he forgot his mackinaw
I saw my lover leaving
sauntering through the snow
Well going grimly homeward
at forty eight below
Wll the weather tried to freeze himit tried its level best
At a hundred degrees below zero
why, he buttoned up his vest
It froze clean through to China
and it froze to the stars above
And at a thousand degrees below zero
it froze my logger love
And so I lost my lover
and to this café I come
And here I wait till someone
stirs his coffee with his thumb
Get Up and Bar the Door
Get Up and Bar the Door
The wind blew high, the wind blew cold,
It blew across the moor,
When John Jones said to Jane, his wife,
"Get up and bar the door."
"Oh, I have worked all day," said she,
"I've washed and scrubbed the floor,
You lazy man, get up, I say,
Get up and bar the door.
"Oh, I have worked so hard," said he,
"I know I can't do more;
So come, my own, my dearest wife,
Get up and bar the door.
Then they agreed between the two,
A solemn oath they swore,
That the one who spoke the very first word
Would have to bar the door.
The wind blew east, the wind blew west,
It blew all over the floor,
But neither one would say a word
For barrin' of the door.
Three robbers came along that way,
They came across the moor;
They saws Light and walked right in,
Right in through the open door.
"Oh, is the owner of this house
A rich man or a poor?"
But neither one would say a word
For barrin' of the door.
They ate the bread, they drank the ale,
Then said, "Come, give us more."
But neither one would say sword
For barrin' of the door.
"Let's pull the old man's beard" said one,
"Let's beat him till he's sore."
But still the old man wouldn't speak
For barrin' of the door.
"I'll kiss his pretty wife," said one,
"Oh, her I could adore."
And then the old man shook his fist
And gave a mighty roar.
"Oh, you'll not kiss my wife," said he,
"I'll throw you on the floor.
Said she, "Now, John, you've spoken first,
So get up and bar the door.
The wind blew high, the wind blew cold,
It blew across the moor,
When John Jones said to Jane, his wife,
"Get up and bar the door."
"Oh, I have worked all day," said she,
"I've washed and scrubbed the floor,
You lazy man, get up, I say,
Get up and bar the door.
"Oh, I have worked so hard," said he,
"I know I can't do more;
So come, my own, my dearest wife,
Get up and bar the door.
Then they agreed between the two,
A solemn oath they swore,
That the one who spoke the very first word
Would have to bar the door.
The wind blew east, the wind blew west,
It blew all over the floor,
But neither one would say a word
For barrin' of the door.
Three robbers came along that way,
They came across the moor;
They saws Light and walked right in,
Right in through the open door.
"Oh, is the owner of this house
A rich man or a poor?"
But neither one would say a word
For barrin' of the door.
They ate the bread, they drank the ale,
Then said, "Come, give us more."
But neither one would say sword
For barrin' of the door.
"Let's pull the old man's beard" said one,
"Let's beat him till he's sore."
But still the old man wouldn't speak
For barrin' of the door.
"I'll kiss his pretty wife," said one,
"Oh, her I could adore."
And then the old man shook his fist
And gave a mighty roar.
"Oh, you'll not kiss my wife," said he,
"I'll throw you on the floor.
Said she, "Now, John, you've spoken first,
So get up and bar the door.
Get Up and Bar the Door
Get Up and Bar the Door
It fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was then,
When our good wife got puddings to make,
And she’s boild them in the pan.
The wind sae cauld blew south and north,
And blew into the floor;
Quoth our goodman to our goodwife,
“Gae out and bar the door.”
“My hand is in my hussyfskap,
Goodman, as ye may see;
An it shoud nae be barrd this hundred year,
It’s no be barrd for me.”
They made a paction tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whaeer shoud speak,
Shoud rise and bar the door.
Then by there came two gentlemen,
At twelve o’clock at night,
And they could neither see house nor hall,
Nor coal nor candle-light.
“Now whether is this a rich man’s house,
Or whether is it a poor?”
But neer a word wad ane o them speak,
For barring of the door.
And first they ate the white puddings,
And then they ate the black;
Tho muckle thought the goodwife to hersel,
Yet neer a word she spake.
Then said the one unto the other,
“Here, man, tak ye my knife;
Do ye tak aff the auld man’s beard,
And I’ll kiss the goodwife.”
“But there’s nae water in the house,
And what shall we do than?”
“What ails thee at the pudding-broo,
That boils into the pan?”
O up then started our goodman,
An angry man was he:
“Will ye kiss my wife before my een,
And scad me wi pudding-bree?”
Then up and started our goodwife,
Gied three skips on the floor:
“Goodman, you’ve spoken the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door.”
It fell about the Martinmas time,
And a gay time it was then,
When our good wife got puddings to make,
And she’s boild them in the pan.
The wind sae cauld blew south and north,
And blew into the floor;
Quoth our goodman to our goodwife,
“Gae out and bar the door.”
“My hand is in my hussyfskap,
Goodman, as ye may see;
An it shoud nae be barrd this hundred year,
It’s no be barrd for me.”
They made a paction tween them twa,
They made it firm and sure,
That the first word whaeer shoud speak,
Shoud rise and bar the door.
Then by there came two gentlemen,
At twelve o’clock at night,
And they could neither see house nor hall,
Nor coal nor candle-light.
“Now whether is this a rich man’s house,
Or whether is it a poor?”
But neer a word wad ane o them speak,
For barring of the door.
And first they ate the white puddings,
And then they ate the black;
Tho muckle thought the goodwife to hersel,
Yet neer a word she spake.
Then said the one unto the other,
“Here, man, tak ye my knife;
Do ye tak aff the auld man’s beard,
And I’ll kiss the goodwife.”
“But there’s nae water in the house,
And what shall we do than?”
“What ails thee at the pudding-broo,
That boils into the pan?”
O up then started our goodman,
An angry man was he:
“Will ye kiss my wife before my een,
And scad me wi pudding-bree?”
Then up and started our goodwife,
Gied three skips on the floor:
“Goodman, you’ve spoken the foremost word,
Get up and bar the door.”
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes
The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened - his face was white and peaked -
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching,
Marching, marching,
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.
Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
The wind was a torrent of darkness upon the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight looping the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn door.
He'd a French cocked hat on his forehead, and a bunch of lace at his chin;
He'd a coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of fine doe-skin.
They fitted with never a wrinkle; his boots were up to his thigh!
And he rode with a jeweled twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle, under the jeweled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
He tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred,
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim, the ostler listened - his face was white and peaked -
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter;
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say:
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart; I'm after a prize tonight,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light.
Yet if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."
He stood upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair in the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the sweet black waves of perfume came tumbling o'er his breast,
Then he kissed its waves in the moonlight
(O sweet black waves in the moonlight!),
And he tugged at his reins in the moonlight, and galloped away to the west.
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon.
And out of the tawny sunset, before the rise of the moon,
When the road was a gypsy's ribbon over the purple moor,
The redcoat troops came marching,
Marching, marching,
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord; they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed.
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets by their side;
There was Death at every window,
And Hell at one dark window,
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road that he would ride.
They had bound her up at attention, with many a sniggering jest!
They had tied a rifle beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her. She heard the dead man say,
"Look for me by moonlight,
Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though Hell should bar the way."
She twisted her hands behind her, but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like years,
Till, on the stroke of midnight,
Cold on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!
The tip of one finger touched it, she strove no more for the rest;
Up, she stood up at attention, with the barrel beneath her breast.
She would not risk their hearing, she would not strive again,
For the road lay bare in the moonlight,
Blank and bare in the moonlight,
And the blood in her veins, in the moonlight, throbbed to her love's refrain.
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hooves, ringing clear;
Tlot tlot, tlot tlot, in the distance! Were they deaf that they did not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
Riding, riding,
The redcoats looked to their priming! She stood up straight and still.
Tlot tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot tlot, in the echoing night!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment, she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him with her death.
He turned, he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the casement, drenched in her own red blood!
Not till the dawn did he hear it, and his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs in the golden noon, wine-red was his velvet coat
When they shot him down in the highway,
Down like a dog in the highway,
And he lay in his blood in the highway, with the bunch of lace at his throat.
And still on a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a gypsy's ribbon looping the purple moor,
The highwayman comes riding,
Riding, riding,
The highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
He taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred,
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
2010/01/03
The Lass of Aughrim
I am a king’s daughter who strayed from Cappaquin
In search of Lord Gregory, pray God I find him
The rain beats at my yellow locks, the dew wets my skin
My babe is cold in my arms, Lord Gregory, let me in.
Lord Gregory is not home my dear, henceforth he can’t be seen
He’s gone to bonnie Scotland to bring home a new queen
So leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
Who’ll shoe my babe’s little feet? Who’ll put gloves on her hand?
Who’ll tie my babe’s middle with a long and green band?
Who’ll comb my babe’s yellow locks with an ivory comb?
Who’ll be my babe’s father till Lord Gregory comes home?
I’ll shoe your babe’s little feet, I’ll put gloves on her hand
I’ll tie your babe’s middle with a long and green band
I’ll comb your babe’s yellow locks with an ivory comb
I’ll be your babe’s father till Lord Gregory comes home.
But leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
Do you remember Lord Gregory that night in Cappaquin?
We exchanged silken handkerchiefs, and all against my will
Yours were fine linen, love, and mine was old cloth
Yours cost one guinea, love, and mine none at all.
Do you remember Lord Gregory, that night in my father’s hall?
We exchanged rings on our fingers, and that was worse than all
Yours were fine silver, love, and mine was old tin
Yours cost one guinea, love, and mine just one cent.
But leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
My curse on you mother, and sister also
Tonight the lass of Aughrim came knocking at my door
Lie down my little son, lie down and sleep
Tonight the lass of Aughrim lies sleeping in the deep
Saddle me the brown horse, the black or the grey
But saddle me the best horse in my stable this day
And I’ll roam over the valley, and mountains so wide
Till I find the lass of Aughrim and lie by her side
But leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
In search of Lord Gregory, pray God I find him
The rain beats at my yellow locks, the dew wets my skin
My babe is cold in my arms, Lord Gregory, let me in.
Lord Gregory is not home my dear, henceforth he can’t be seen
He’s gone to bonnie Scotland to bring home a new queen
So leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
Who’ll shoe my babe’s little feet? Who’ll put gloves on her hand?
Who’ll tie my babe’s middle with a long and green band?
Who’ll comb my babe’s yellow locks with an ivory comb?
Who’ll be my babe’s father till Lord Gregory comes home?
I’ll shoe your babe’s little feet, I’ll put gloves on her hand
I’ll tie your babe’s middle with a long and green band
I’ll comb your babe’s yellow locks with an ivory comb
I’ll be your babe’s father till Lord Gregory comes home.
But leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
Do you remember Lord Gregory that night in Cappaquin?
We exchanged silken handkerchiefs, and all against my will
Yours were fine linen, love, and mine was old cloth
Yours cost one guinea, love, and mine none at all.
Do you remember Lord Gregory, that night in my father’s hall?
We exchanged rings on our fingers, and that was worse than all
Yours were fine silver, love, and mine was old tin
Yours cost one guinea, love, and mine just one cent.
But leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
My curse on you mother, and sister also
Tonight the lass of Aughrim came knocking at my door
Lie down my little son, lie down and sleep
Tonight the lass of Aughrim lies sleeping in the deep
Saddle me the brown horse, the black or the grey
But saddle me the best horse in my stable this day
And I’ll roam over the valley, and mountains so wide
Till I find the lass of Aughrim and lie by her side
But leave you these windows and likewise this hall
For it’s deep in the ocean you must hide your downfall.
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