Nov 182011
 

Puff the Magic Dragon lived by the sea,
and frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honna Lee…

Puff, the magic dragon, lived by the sea
And frolicked in the autumn mist in a land called Honalee.
Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal Puff
And brought him strings and sealing wax and other fancy stuff, oh

Together they would travel on boat with billowed sail
Jackie kept a lookout perched on Puff’s gigantic tail
Noble kings and princes would bow whene’er they came
Pirate ships would lower their flags when Puff roared out his name, oh

A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys
Painted wings and giants’s rings make way for other toys.
One grey night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar.

His head was bent in sorrow, green scales fell like rain
Puff no longer went to play along the cherry lane.
Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave
So, Puff that mighty dragon sadly slipped into his cave, oh

The Tune: Puff the Magic Dragon in D (PDF)

Nov 162011
 

This one’s for Megan.

The World's Largest Shovel... or, at least one big enough to take the top off of a mountain and ruin the land.

When I was a child my family would travel
Down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born
And there’s a backwards old town that’s often remembered
So many times that my memories are worn.

Chorus:
And daddy won’t you take me back to Muhlenberg County
Down by the Green River where Paradise lay
Well, I’m sorry my son, but you’re too late in asking
Mister Peabody’s coal train has hauled it away

Well, sometimes we’d travel right down the Green River
To the abandoned old prison down by Adrie Hill
Where the air smelled like snakes and we’d shoot with our pistols
But empty pop bottles was all we would kill.
Repeat Chorus:

Then the coal company came with the world’s largest shovel
And they tortured the timber and stripped all the land
Well, they dug for their coal till the land was forsaken
Then they wrote it all down as the progress of man.
Repeat Chorus:

When I die let my ashes float down the Green River
Let my soul roll on up to the Rochester dam
I’ll be halfway to Heaven with Paradise waitin’
Just five miles away from wherever I am.
Repeat Chorus:

The Tune: Paradise (in G). (PDF)

Nov 152011
 

Here’s a short little tune chocked full of accidentals. The Gray Goose. Lord, Lordy, Lord.

Oh, early Sunday mornin’, Lord, Lord, Lord
The preacher went a huntin’, Lord, Lord Lord

And he carried along a shotgun, Lord, Lord, Lord
And along came a grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord
Well he shot down a grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord
And down come the grey goose, Lord, Lord, Lord
Took six weeks a’ fallin’, Lord, Lord, Lord
And six weeks a’ haulin’,Lord, Lord, Lord

And they put him on the table, Lord, Lord, Lord
And your wife and my wife, Lord, Lord, Lord
They had a feather pickin’, Lord, Lord, Lord
And they put him in the oven, Lord, Lord, Lord
But the oven wouldn’t burn him, Lord, Lord, Lord
But the fork wouldn’t stick it, Lord, Lord, Lord
And the knife wouldn’t cut it, Lord, Lord, Lord

And they him in the hog pen, Lord, Lord, Lord
But the hog couldn’t eat it, Lord, Lord, Lord
And he broke the hog’s teeth out, Lord, Lord, Lord
So they threw him in the sawmill, Lord, Lord, Lord
And the sawmill wouldn’t cut him, Lord, Lord, Lord
And he broke the saw’s teeth off, Lord, Lord, Lord

And the last time I seen him, Lord, Lord, Lord
She was flyin’ ‘cross the ocean, Lord, Lord, Lord
With a long string o’gosling, Lord, Lord, Lord
And they’re all goin’ quack, quack, Lord, Lord, Lord.

The Tune: The Gray Goose [in G(ish)] (PDF)

Sep 062011
 

Vaudeville isn’t dead. It’s not feeling so well… but it’s not dead.

A smart and stylish girl you see,
Belle of good society
Not too strict but rather free
Yet as right as right can be!
Never forward, never bold
Not too hot, and not too cold
But the very thing, I’m told,
That in your arms you’d like to hold.

The Tune: Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-ay in G (PDF)

Sep 052011
 

Sea Shanties are the best shanties.

A Halyard Shanty

A hundred years is a very long time,
Ho, yes, ho!
A hundred years is a very long time,
A hundred years ago.

They used to think that pigs could fly
Ho, yes, ho!
I don’t believe it, no, not I.
A hundred years ago.

They thought he moon was made of cheese.
Ho, yes, ho!
You can believe it if you please.
A hundred years ago.

They thought the stars were set a-light,
Ho, yes, ho!
By some good angel every night,
A hundred years ago.

They hung a man for making steam,
They cast his body in the stream.
A hundred years ago.

A hundred years is a very long time,
Ho, yes, ho!
A hundred years is a very long time,
A hundred years ago.

The Tune: A Hundred Years Ago in G (PDF)

Sep 032011
 

Kumbaya

Someone’s laughing, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s laughing, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s laughing, Lord, kumbayah,
O Lord, kumbayah.

Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s crying, Lord, kumbayah;
O Lord, kumbayah.

Someone’s praying, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s praying, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s praying, Lord, kumbayah;
O Lord, kumbayah.

Someone’s singing, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s singing, Lord, kumbayah;
Someone’s singing, Lord, kumbayah;
O Lord, kumbayah.

The tune: Kumbayah in G(ish) PDF

Sep 022011
 

Last night the Western Kentucky Hilltoppers lost to University of Kentucky 3 to 14 in what was really a beautiful football game. The Hilltoppers were on fire in the first quarter; I think the Kentucky had maybe a net gain of one yard in the first quarter. Maybe they got two or three… but Western held them to a number that the Kentucky students can reach without taking off their shoes.

What’s that got to do with moonshine, you ask. Well….. Probably nothing. I guess. Kinda made me nostalgic for good ol’ Western… and the top of the hill. I sure would like to go back there someday.

Come all you booze-buyers if you want to hear
About the kind of booze they sell around here.
Made way back in the swamps and hills
Where there’s plenty of moonshine stills.

Some moonshiners make pretty good stuff
Bootleggers use it to mix it up.
He’ll make one gallon, well he’ll make two
If you don’t mind boys, he’ll get the best of you.

One drop will make a rabbit whip a fool dog
And a taste will make a rabbit whip a wild hog.
It’ll make a toad spit in a black snake’s face
Make a hard shell preacher fall from grace.

The Tune: Kentucky Bootlegger in G (PDF)