Looking Home 1995

The Road to Drumleman 4:16
©1981 Willie Mitchell / Tony Cuffe. Iona Records

We first heard this lovely song from Nancy Mattila, a fine singer formerly from St. George, Maine. Although it was written about a Celtic locale it reminds us of those tantalizing side roads here in Maine that often lead to someplace that resonates with the heart.

N.B. Drumleman is the Scots way of saying Drumlemble.

Julia Lane - vocal, harp
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar

Oh the springtime returns to the Lagan again
And the lark sweetly sings o're the green fertile plain.
And I'll take the road that is dearest to me
The road the Drumleman that winds to the sea

for I've made many friends there on every green mile
And the folks always greet you with a wave and a smile
If I spent all my days there it's happy I'd be
On the road to Dremleman that winds to the sea

For we sat round the fireside when the winter winds blew.
And we laughed and we sang 'till the night was weel through.
And we had a wee dram and a good cup of tea
For the road to Drumleman that winds to the sea

And the long summer days when we tramped the hills o'er
Or spent hours at the headlands by Craigin's wild shore
And the soft summer twilight made shadows to flee
Fred the road to Drumleman that winds to the seas

All these days passing swiftly bring changes, I know.
And as time marches on from this place I must go.
But I'll always remember as the heart beats in me
The road to Drumleman that winds to the sea.

Home, Dearie, Home 2:53
Traditional

A Maine version of a Vermont version of an English song, this is a great example of the migratory nature of folk music. The napkin (sometimes cloth or kerchief) requested by the sailor is a clue to the origin. English sailors were distinctive in their habit of appleying tar to their hair to keep it out of their eyes (hence Jack Tar) The sailor in this song, gentleman that he is, requests the cloth to keep the tar from soiling the pillow (or the girl!).

Julia Lane - vocal, harp
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar

  Home, dearie, home, and home it will be
  Home, dearie, home, and home it will be
  The oak and the yarrow and the pretty maple tree
  Are all growing green in North Amerikee

As I walked out in Raspberry Lane
I chanced for to meet with a mistress of fame
The oak and the yarrow and the pretty maple tree
Are all growing green in North Amerikee

It was about midnight; what could he want more?
She showed him the way to the old cabin doorbr/> He called for a candle to light him to bed
And likewise a napkin to bind around his head

Early next morning the sailor grew bold
And into her apron threw a handful of gold
The gold it did glitter and dazzled her eye
She said,"Oh, won't you marry me?"
"Oh no," he said, "Not I."

"Just keep yourself single until the next spring
To hear the lark whistle and the nightingale sing.
My ship it is a-waiting and in it I must go
To the land I love and the friends that I know."

The Harper's Song 3:32
Music © 1991 Bobbie Wayne ASCAP Words by Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832)

In ancient times harpers traveled between the aristocratic houses playing for patrons and relying on their hospitality for a living. This romantic lyric came from Jack Downing's Song Book circa 1832, published by Seba Smith here in Maine. Probably inspired by the Celtic Twilight movement of the time, it was published without music. American harper Bobbie Wayne gave it new life with a beautiful tune.

Julia Lane - vocal, harp
Fred Gosbee - vocal, low whistle

Summer eve is gone and past
Summer dew is falling fast
I have wandered all the day
Do not bid me further stray
Gentle folk of gentle kin
Let the wandering harper in.

Bid me not in battlefield
Buckler lift nor broadsword wield
All my strength and all my art
Is to touch the gentle heart
With the wizard notes that ring
From the peaceful minstrel string

I have song of war for knight,
Lay of love for lady bright.
Fairy tale to warm the ear
Goblin grim, the maids to scare.
Dark the night and long till day.
Do not bid me further stray

Give Me Your Hand 3:00
Rory Dall O'Cathain (c. 1615)

Rory Dall O'Cathain was a blind Irish harper and a gentleman of considerable property. He took a fancy to visit Scotland having heard the great reputation of the harpers there. While paying a visit to one Lady Eglingtoun, she, apparently unaware of his rank, rudely demanded a tune. He irritably left the house. After discovering her faux pas the lady anxiously apologized and begged for reconciliation. This tune was his response.

Julia Lane - harp

She Moved Through the Fair / Once I Had a Sweetheart 5:22
Traditional Irish / Traditional American

Origially a traditional song She Moved Through the Fair was reworked by the Irish poet Padraic Colum, then passed back into the folk scene. These two songs flowed together naturally one evening. They are obviously related, the second being the immigrant grandchild of the first.

Julia Lane - vocal, harp
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar

My young love said to me, "My mother won't mind
And my father won't slight you for tour lack of kine.
She stepped away from me and this she did say,
"It will not be long till our our wedding day

She stepped away from me and she moved through the fair.
And fondly I watched her go here and go there.
She went her way homeward with one star awake
As the swan in the evening goes over the lake

The people were saying, "No two were e'er wed
  Once I had a sweetheart but now I have none.
But one had a sorrow that never was said
  Once I had a sweetheart but now I have none.
She passed close beside me with her goods and her gear
  He's gone and leave me, he's gone and leave me
And that was the last I saw of my dear
  He's gone and leave me to sorrow and mourn

I dreamed it last night, my young love came in
  Last night in sweet slumber I dreamed I did see
So softly she entered her feet made no din
  Last night in sweet slumber I dreamed I did see
She came close beside me and this she did say
  My own precious jewel, my own precious jewel
"It will not be long till our wedding day
  My own precious jewel sat smiling by me.

  But when I awakened I found it not so
  But when I awakened I found it not so
  My eyes like some fountain with tears overflow.
  My eyes like some fountain with tears overflow.

The Lass of Peatie's Mill 3:30
Traditional Scots / American

Music is as much a legacy as language. We found this tune of Scottish origin in a collection of populr tunes of colonial times in Williamsburg, Virginia.

Julia Lane - harp
Fred Gosbee - violin

The Wild 'Prentice Boy 2:05
Traditional Canada

I learnt this song from his grandfather, John West, who learnt it whilst working in the lumberwoods of New Brunswick before the family moved to Maine in 1922. This is his version of the song Newlyn Town probably dating to the 1750s.

Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar, bowed psaltry
Doug Anderson - Bodhran

My name is Edward Houlahan
I was born in Erin's sunny isle
My father bound me to a trade
And they called me a flashing blade

At sweet sixteen I took a wife.
I loved her as I loved my life
To maintain her both wide and free
I took to robbing on the king's highway

I robbed Lord Darling, I do declare And I robbed Lady Welch of her golden ware
I robbed them both of their gold so bright
And carried it off to my heart's delight

I never robbed a poor man yet
Or caused a tradesman for to quit
But from the rich gave to the poor
That's what brought me to this unhappy hour

For now I am condemned to die
And many a fair maid for me will cry
But all their tears connot pity me
For yonder stands the gallows tree

Let six bold robbers bury me
Give them broad swords and free liberty
And let six fair maidens bear my pall
Give them white robes and pink ribbons all
And when they speak, let them speak the truth
Here lies a bold and undaunted youth

I's the B'y 2:22
Traditional Newfoundland

An indiginous song, obviously inspired by the Scots and Irish who settled Eastern Canada and Maine. We met a man who remembered dancing to this song in his fishing boots with a girl on each

Julia Lane - vocal, harp
Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar
Doreen Conboy - acoustic bass

  's the b'y that builds the boat. I's the B'y that sails her
  I's the b'y that catches the fish and takes them home to Liza
  Hip you partner, Sally Tibbo. Hip your partner, Sally Brown.
  Fogo, Twillingate, Morton's Harbour all around a circle

I took Liza to a dance and, faith, but she could travel
And every step that she did take was up to her knees in gravel

Susan White, she's out of sight. Her pettycoat wants a border
Old Sir Oliver, in the dark, he kissed her in the corner

Salts and rind will cover your flake, tea and cake for supper
Codfish in the spring of the year, fried in maggoty butter

The Scarborough Settler's Lament 3:50
Traditional, Canada

n 1840 Sandy Glendenning, a displaced Scxot who settled in Scarborough, Canada (now part of urban Toronto) penned these lyrics to the old Scottish tune Of All the Airt's the Wind Can Blaw. Where I learnt this tune is lost in the mists of time. I think it might have been a late night at the old Ram's Horn in Orono, Maine.

Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar
Julia Lane - vocal
Doreen Conboy - cello

Away with Canada's muddy creeks and Canada's fields of pine.
Your land of wheat is a goodly land but, oh, it is not mine.
The heathy hill, the grassy dale, the daisy-splngled lea,
The purling burn, and the craggy lin; old Scotia's land give me.

How I'd love to hear again the lark on Tinny's Hill
Or see the wee-bit gowan e'e that blooms beside the rill.
Like banished Swiss who views afar his Alps with longing e'e
I gaze upon the morning star that shines on my country.

No mre I'll wend down Eskdale's ben or Pentland's craggy cone.
The days will ne'er return again of thirth years that's gone.
But fancy, of't at midnight hour, will steal across the sea
And yestere'en, in a pleasant dream, I saw my own country

Each well-Known scene that came in view brought childhood joys to mind.
The blackbird sand on Tushy Linn the song he sang lang syne
And I awoke in Canada, three thousand miles fra' hame.

Simple Gifts 1:55
Traditional Shaker

Religious freedom was one reason for immigration to north America and the Shakers were one of the many groups to do so. One of the oldest (c 1794) and the last remaining Shaker community is at Sabbathday Lake, Maine. Famous for their legacy of enduring, functional elegance and joyous commitment to work, their music reflects their beliefs.

Julia Lane - harp

Something to Come Home To 2:53
© 1983 Julia Lane

Written for a friend.

Julia Lane - vocal, harp
Fred Gosbee - 5-string viola
Gary Clancy - guitar
Doreen Conboy - cello

Travel down the road. Go where your heart may lead.
Just remember we all need
Something to come home to.

Somewhere down the way you'll find yourself returning
To good friends and hearthfires burning
And wanting something to come home to.

Turn your head. Play your games. Make up alibis.
You may not even feel the pain until you realize
It's a long hard road and some may leave you crying
But the thing that keeps you trying is having
Something to come home to.

Looking Home 7:27
©1992 Fred Gosbee

I made this song while we were preparing (with some trepidation) for our first trip to Ireland and Scotland. Thanks to Lincoln Academy for help with the voices of our ancestors, music of another sort.

Fred Gosbee - vocal, 12-string guitar
Julia Lane - vocal, harp
Lincoln Academy students - babble

  Looking home across the water to a land we've never seen
  Lookin home across the water; we just know you from our dreams.
  But the songs the old folks sing and the stories that they tell
  Make us believe, within our hearts, we know you very well.

Our mothers and our fathers came here many years ago.
Some left their homes willingly. Some were forced to go.
Poverty, rebellion, or politics gone wrong;
Whatever were the reasons their love of home was strong

Bitter must have been the parting there upon the quay.
But they turned the bow to west'ard and sailed acreoos the sea.
Some were filled with courage; others weak with fear
Coming to an unknown land away from friends so dear.

After they had landed here upon this distant shore
Our people built a new life, maybe better than before.
Their spirit was rewarded, their strength of hand and heart.
Still they missed the land behind and friends that had to part.

Now generations later, as strangers we return.
The memories have faded but still the heart will yearn.
We look to our beginnings; our source of strength and pride.
But what will we discover when we reach the other side?