We’ve updated our Terms of Use to reflect our new entity name and address. You can review the changes here.
We’ve updated our Terms of Use. You can review the changes here.

Cross Cut 1

by Backwoodsmen

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $7 CAD  or more

     

1.
Oh it being in the month of August eighteen and thirty-three, My parents they forced me to leave this counteree, Because I would not break the vows I made unto my dear. That girl I love so tenderly, my charming Sally Greer. ‘Twas from the Monarch of Aberdeen to Belfast we bore down, We hoisted an English colour, to Quebec we were bound. One day the wind from the mountains blew, it tossed us to and fro Our ship she struck against a rock, to pieces she did go. Oh, it was on Paul's Island for three long days we lie The cold ground being our bed, our covering was the sky Of hundred and fifty passengers, only thirteen reached the shore The rest of them to the bottom went; they sank to rise no moe. And were we not a sight to be seen when we landed at Quebec. We lost our money and clothing all by that dreadful wreck. But I hope to sail for Ireland before another year, Where I can rove in splendour with my charming Sally Greer. And I hope to rove in splendour with my charming Sally Greer.
2.
Opeongo Line 04:29
On the Opeongo Line, I drove a span of bays One Summer, once upon a time for Hoolihan and Hayes. Now that the bays are dead and gone and grim old age is mine A phantom team and teamster start from Renfrew rain or shine. Chorus I am dreaming, as I go teaming, on the Opeongo Line Yes I am dreaming, as I go teaming, out on the Opeongo Line. On the Opeongo Line, that Nature might defy The hand of man to match her art, she wrought in earth and sky A perfect setting for Lake Clear, whose crystal waters spread In island-dotted splendour where Plaunt’s Mountain rears its head. On the Opeongo Line the parish priest was boss, And for a project, by and large, was never at a loss. He put the women in their place; the men, he stood on ear; He taught the growing girls and boys the wrath of God to fear. Chorus On the Opeongo Line the fiddle’s merry ring Across the moonlit clearance meant a square dance in full swing, A truth of which the countryside was wholly unaware, Though lass and lad for miles around were no place else but there. On the Opeongo Line the loon called from the Lake; The ducks flew low above the reeds; the trout leaped high to take The daring fly that came its way; the oat fields drew the deer; The partridge drummed along the road for all the world to hear. On the Opeongo Line when working men were dry, On hands and knees they drank their fill from spring or brook hard by And got up feeling fine and fit to keep on mowing hay Or cradling grain or picking stones until the Judgement Day. Chorus
3.
Away wi’ Canada’s muddy creeks And Canada’s fields of pine! Your land of wheat is a goodly land, But ah! it isna mine! The heathy hill, the grassy dale The daisy-spangled lea, The purling burn and craggy linn, Auld Scotia’s glens gie me. Oh, I wad like to hear again the lark on Tinny’s hill. And see the wee bit gowany That blooms beside the rill. Like a banished Swiss who views afar his Alps with longing e’e. I gaze upon the morning star that shines on my countie. Nae mair I’ll win by Eskdale Pen or Pentland’s craggy cone; The days can ne’er come back again of thirty years that’s gone, But fancy oft at midnight hour will steal across the sea. Yestreen, in a pleasant dream I saw the auld country. Each well-known scene that met my view brought childhood’s joys to mind, The blackbird sang on Tushey linn The song he sang, ‘Lang Syne.’ But like a dream time flies away, again the morning came. And I awoke in Canada, Three thousand miles ‘frae hame’. No more I’ll walk the village square or go fishing in the bay. I see the bright colours of the market stands they have all faded away. The sand so white, and a sea so blue, The crickets in the night, The high falls in their rainbow hues, The old island is mine. Oh, I would like to hear again the laughter of old friends, my gramma singing with voice so strong She sings ‘Redemption Song’ But like a dream time flies away, always the morning comes And I wake up in Canada, Many miles from home. And I wake up in Scarborough, Many miles from home
4.
You may talk about your cities and all the towns that you know, With trolley cars and pavements hard and theatres where you go. You can have your little auto and carriages so fine, But it’s hob-nail boots and a flannel shirt in Cobalt town for mine. Chorus And we’ll sing a little song of Cobalt. If you don’t live there it’s your fault. Oh, Cobalt, where the silver nuggets glow Oh, Cobalt, you’re the best old town l know. Old Porcupine is a muskeg, Elk Lake a fire trap, New Liskeard’s just a country town and Haileybury’s just come back; You can buy the whole of Latchford for a nickel or a dime, But it’s hob-nail boots and a flannel shirt in Cobalt town tor mine. Elk Lake was only a bubble, Gowganda had a few, Old Larder Lake was just a fake, Lorrain was a whisper too, Swastika is a rockpile, hot air is Porcupine, But it’s hob-nail boots and a flannel shirt in Cobalt town for mine. Chorus We’ve got the only Lang Street; there’s blind pigs everywhere. Old Cobalt Lake’s a dirty place, there’s mud all over the square, We’s got the darndest railroad, that never runs on time, But it’s hob-nail boots and a flannel shirt in Cobalt town for mine. We’ve bet our dough on hockey and swore till the air was blue. Cobalt stocks have emptied our socks with dividends cut in two, They don’t get any of our dollars in poor old Porcupine, But it’s-hob-nail boots and a flannel shirt in Cobalt town tor mine. Chorus
5.
Chorus: Johnston's Hotel, Johnston's Hotel, Oh they treat you swell, at Johnston's Hotel. On the banks of the Otonabee there's a nice little spot There's a boarding house there where you get your meals hot And across from the Quaker comes a corn-flaky smell To remind you you're boarding at Johnston's Hotel Oh the rooms up at Johnston's, they are heated with steam. The finest apartments I ever have seen. The windows are airy and barred beside, To keep the good boarders from falling outside Chorus Oh the meals up at Johnston's, you get such a hoard. If you want to cut beefsteak, borrow a sword. Ain't much to look at, but oh it is swell. Just to be boarding at Johnston's Hotel There's old Johnny Dainard, not a bad cop you know And old Billy Wigg, he ain't bad also There's Pearcy and Puffin, and Mahar as well. They're looking for boarders for Johnston's Hotel. Chorus Oh, you're in front of Langley and and he's reading your charge My darling young boy, you've been running at large. Oh you're in front of Langley and the truth you must tell And he gives you your pass up to Johnston's Hotel. If you want to spend some time in Johnston's Hotel Just ramble down George Street, raising blue hell Dry bread and water won't cost you a cent. Your taxes are paid for, your board and your rent. Chorus
6.
Battle of Queenston Heights Lyrics by James L. Hughes; arrangement and additional verse by Rob Niezen Upon the heights of Queenston one dark October day Invading forces were marshalled in battle’s dread array Brave Brock looked up the rugged steep and planned a bold attack No foreign flag shall float, said he, above the Union Jack His loyal hearted soldiers were ready every one Their foes were thrice their number, but duty must be done They started up the fire swept hill with loud resounding cheers Brock’s inspiring voice rang out—push on York Volunteers. Tecumseh and his Shawnees played a brilliant trick Brave and fierceless warriors moved everywhere and quick They faked a fearsome force of more than tenfold size And many scared attackers ran—they fled demoralized. Soon a fatal bullet pierced through Brock’s manly breast And loving friends to help him around our hero pressed Push on, he said don’t mind me, and ere the set of sun Canadians held the rugged steep—the victory was won. Each true Canadian patriot laments the death of Brock His country told its sorrow in a monumental rock And if foes should ever invade our land in future years His dying words will guide us still—push on brave volunteers.
7.
Willie's away from the field of contention From the land of misrule and friends of dissension He's gone over the waves as an agent befitting Our claims to support the councils of Britain No more shall the soup-kitchen beggars annoy him Nor the Hamilton murderers attempt to destroy him No dread deed of blood shall he fear their committing He's safe from their fangs on his voyage to Britain There, there the reformers shall meet him And there his great friend King Willie shall greet him Our patriot monarch whose name shall be written with letters of good in the records of Britain Go Canada's patriot, go strong in your mission Go bear our sovereign his subjects' petition Our despots unmask show the deeds they're committing Perverting the blest institutions of Britain Willie's away from the field of contention From the land of misrule and friends of dissension He's gone over the waves as an agent befitting Our claims to support the councils of Britain
8.
On Tuesday morning we marched out In command of Colonel Fraser With swords and bayonets of polished steel As keen as any razor. Unto the Windmill plains we went We gave them three loud cheers To let them know that day below We’re the Prescott Volunteers. Oh, we’re the boys that feared no noise When the cannons loud did roar We cut the rebels left and right When they landed on our shore. Brave Macdonall nobly led His men into the field; They did not flinch, no, not an inch Till the rebels had to yield. He swung his sword right round his head Saying, “Glengarrys follow me, We’ll gain the day without delay, And that you’ll plainly see!” The rebels now remain at home, We wish that they would come We’d cut them up, both day and night, By command of Colonel Young. If they ever dare return again They’d see what we can do; We’ll show them British play, my boys, As we did at Waterloo. Under Colonel Jessup we will fight, Let him go where he will; With powder and ball they’ll surely fall As they did at the Windmill. If I were like great Virgil bright I would employ my quill; I would write both day and night Concerning the Windmill. Lest to intrude I will conclude And finish off my song, We’ll pay a visit to Ogdensburg And not before too long!
9.
Mary Ann 03:28
Oh, fare thee well my own true love, fare thee well my dear For the ship is waiting and the wind blows high And I am bound away for the sea—Mary Ann And I am bound away for the sea—Mary Ann Oh yonder don’t you see the dove, sitting on the sill He is mourning the loss of his own true love As I do now for you my love—Mary Ann As I do now for you my love—Mary Ann A lobster boiling in the pot, a blue fish in the brook They are suffering long, but it’s nothing like The love I feel for you my love—Mary Ann The love I feel for you my love—Mary Ann Oh, had I but a flask of gin, sugar here for two And a great big bowl for to mix it in I’d pour a drink for you my dear—Mary Ann I’d pour a drink for you my dear—Mary Ann
10.
instrumental
11.
I wandered today to the hill Maggie, to watch the scene below The creek and the old rusty mill Maggie, where we sat in the long long ago The green grove is gone from the hill Maggie, where first the daisies sprung The old rusty mill is still Maggie, since you and I were young. A city so silent and lone, Maggie, where the young and the gay and the best In polished white mansions of stone Maggie, have each found a place of rest Is built where the birds used to play Maggie, and join in the songs that were sung For we sang as gay as they Maggie, when you and I were young. Oh they say I've grown feeble with age Maggie, my steps are much slower than then My face is a well written page Maggie and time all along was the pen Oh they say we've outlived our time Maggie, as dated as the songs that we've sung But to me you're as fair as you were Maggie, when you and I were young.

about

Traditional folk songs and melodies pass orally from generation to generation through time. The central and eastern portion of the Canadian province of Ontario is known internationally as a unique traditional folk music region. CBC’s Edith Fowke collected folk songs in rural Ontario during the 1950s—many in Peterborough County.

Traditional music came to Ontario with European settlers. Lyrics and tunes were adapted to local experiences and the personal preferences of the players, and these offer a reflection of society at different moments in history.

The underlying themes are of a timeless nature, as they deal with human existence: love, deception, politics, war, immigration, work, leisure, murder, death, etc. Traditional music group Backwoodsmen selected and revisited the songs from rural Ontario, adapted lyrics, and created contemporary arrangements.

Historian and musician Dr. Allan Kirby, and visual artist Rob Niezen produced an illustrated song book that presents these same songs with a historical introduction, full lyrics and chord progressions.

The illustrations were done as a handprinted edition of 30.
Find out more at www.robniezen.com/printmaking/cross-cut/

credits

released August 13, 2022

Allan Kirby: lead vocals on 2, dobro, banjo, guitar
Don Duncan: lead vocals on 5, harmonica
John Bird: banjo-ukulele, contrabass recorder, soprano recorder, washboard
Rob Cory: lead vocals on 7, 9, 11, backing vocals, guitar, harmonica
Rob Niezen: lead vocals on 1, 3, 4, 6, 8, backing vocals, guitar, mandolin

Recorded at Crowe Lake by Paul Johnson
Mixed and mastered at Through the Cedars Music Productions
Produced by Allan Kirby and Paul Johnson
Design and artwork by Rob Niezen

backwoodsmen.bandcamp.com
facebook.com/BackwoodsmenMusic
rob@robniezen.com and northbluebanjo@gmail.com

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Backwoodsmen Peterborough, Ontario

The members of Backwoodsmen met while playing traditional music at Lang Pioneer Village Museum in Keene, Ontario. They firmed up their collaboration as part of a long term traditional music and art project that came to a conclusion in 2022 with the two Cross Cut albums ... more

contact / help

Contact Backwoodsmen

Streaming and
Download help

Report this album or account

If you like Backwoodsmen, you may also like: