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Cross Cut 2

by Backwoodsmen

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1.
T'was in the merry month of May 
When green buds all were swelling, Sweet William on his death bed lay For love of Barbara Allen. He sent his servant to the town To the place where she was dwelling, Saying you must come, to my master dear If your name be Barbara Allen. So slowly, slowly she came up And slowly she drew nigh him, And the only words to him did say Young man I think you're dying. He turned his face unto the wall And death in him was welling, Good-bye, good-bye, to my friends all Be good to Barbara Allen. When he was dead and laid in grave She heard the death bells knelling And every strike to her did say Hard-hearted Barbara Allen. Oh mother, oh father, go dig my grave And make it both long and narrow, Sweet William died of love for me And I will die tomorrow. Barbara Allen was buried in the old churchyard Sweet William was right beside her, Out of sweet William's heart, there grew a rose Out of Barbara Allen's a briar. They grew up the old church spire Till they could grow no higher At the end they formed a true lover's knot And the rose grew round the briar. And the rose grew round the briar.
2.
Maggie Howie 03:41
I am an Irishman by birth, my name is Michael Lee. I fell in love with a pretty girl, which proved my destiny. I fell in love with a pretty girl, Maggie Howie was her name. It’s cruel that I have murdered her, I own it to my shame. Maggie Howie was a farmer’s daughter, the truth to you I’ll tell She resided in Napanee, where she was known quite well. It’s true I loved her dearly, as you will understand, For she was wearing my own gold ring upon her lily-white hand. For a long time I courted her, I was filled with joy and pride For a long time I courted her, I thought she’d be my bride Night and day both passed away in my love’s company. Her parents interfering, she would not marry me. It was early one Tuesday morning, my love along did stray. I overtook my darling, those words to her did say: “My dearest dear, I must be severe and take away your life Unless you promise to marry me, and become my lawful wife.” She wrung her hands with anger and wept most bitterly. Saying “Michael, do have mercy and do not murder me.” But I was deaf to all her cries, no mercy could I show, And in my hands I took the axe and struck that fatal blow. My love she fell dead at my feet, it was a mortal wound, And over her fair bosom the blood came pouring down. I ran away into the woods, my sorrow to prevail, But I was overtaken and sent to the county jail. So it’s now I am a prisoner in the town of Napanee, It’s there I’ll stand my trial and the judge will sentence me For I know that I am guilty and I do deserve to die For the murder of my own true love upon the gallows high.
3.
Bill Dunbar was an able man as you understand, Kind-hearted and obliging, a powerful able man. No matter what you would profess he would always use you well, You would never feel insulted in Dunbar’s big hotel. Bill Dunbar in his former days was foreman for Mossom Boyd And many the river he has run, both narrow, deep, and wide. He was never known to send a man where trouble might draw near. But he’d boldly take the lead himself without danger, dread, or fear. Chorus Bill Dunbar was an able man as you understand, Kind-hearted and obliging, a powerful able man. Bill drove to the races at Little lake, with Bob Cunningham And returning home the same day, they ran into a storm The snow blew hard, the night grew dark, and they lost their way, They drove into Gannon’s Narrows at the foot of Pigeon Lake. The team was lost, both men went down, the water piercing cold. Poor Bill he fought hard for his life, he threw his mitts out on the ice as a token where they died. Chorus It being on a Tuesday evening they met with their sad doom, And their bodies weren’t recovered until Thursday afternoon. They were taken right home to Kinmount; large crowds did gather there, And the people came from far and near when they heard of the sad affair. Chorus
4.
My name is J.R. Burchill, that name I’ll never deny I leave my aged parents, in sorrow for to die For little did they think, that in my youth and bloom I’d be taken to the scaffold, to meet my fatal doom Thy will be done; Thy will be done Come all you tender Christians, wherever you may be Kindly pay attention to these few lines from me On the fourteenth of November, I am condemned to die For the murder of F.C. Benwell, upon the scaffold high Thy will be done; Thy will be done Benwell was an Englishman and had not yet a wife He came to this country, to seek an honest life They said that I betrayed him, unto a certain spot And there with my revolver, poor Benwell he was shot Thy will be done; Thy will be done I tried to play off innocent, but found it would not do The evidence being against me, approved I had no show They took me to the prison, all in my youth and bloom And there upon the scaffold, I must meet my fatal doom Thy will be done; Thy will be done My wife she came to see me, to bid her last farewell She said it was heart rending, to leave me in the cell She said, “My dearest husband, you know that you must die For the murder of F.C. Benwell, upon the scaffold high” Thy will be done; Thy will be done ‘Twas nine o’clock in the morning, and I knew my doom was near I gathered up my courage, to prove I had no fear The last few words were spoke, the words, “Thy will be done” The trap door flew open—and Burchill he was hung Thy will be done; Thy will be done
5.
As I went a-walking one morning at ease, Viewing the leaves as they fall from the trees, They were all in full motion appearing to be, And those that were wilted, they fell from the tree. Chorus Then what is the life of a man any more than the leaves, For a life has its seasons and why should we grieve, Although on this earth we appear light and gay, Like the green leaves that wither and soon fade away. Oh don’t you remember a short time ago How beautiful and green they all seem to grow? The frost it bit hard and crippled them all, A storm blew upon them and down they did fall. Chorus Look down in yonder churchyard, many graves you will see Fell from this earth like the leaves from the tree, Old age and affliction upon them did call, And death and disease blighted them all. Chorus
6.
Now we left our own homes for the woods We were bent The first night in Bobcaygeon with pleasure we spent We put up at Harve 'Thompson‘s that night for a time Who was hiring teams for The New Limit Line Now the name of those fellows in Caygeon that night Was O’Neil, George Ell, Pat Breck, and Jim White Harve gave each a fiver and with them did sign For to pay our way through to The New Limit Line So we left there next morning precisely at eight So as to reach Minden before it got late Oh we landed in Minden that night just at nine With hearts full of joy for The New Limit Line So early next morning we spiked up our bunks With toggles and sway bars to hold on to those trunks Then we started to haul, for to haul the white pine. Till we hauled he last load on The New Limit Line Now our logs are all hauled, and we're homeward bound And when we reach Dorset this toast will go round: “Here’s health to Jim Campbell for he used us most kind‘ “Hope we’ll all meet again on The New Limit Line.“
7.
River Driver 03:22
I sit at the table with my pipe in my hand And think of the past, and frontier so grand With my comrades all gone and duties at end My hands now soft with no timber to tend   Chorus I’d eat when I was hungry. I’d drink when I was dry If the water didn’t drown me, I’d live till I die The river didn’t drown me while over it I roamed I was a river driver, far away from home. There’s a farmer and a sailor, and likewise mechanics too It takes all kinds of people to form a lumbering crew The choppers and the sawyers they lay the timber low The swampers and the teamsters, they draw it to and fro
8.
A is for axes that cutteth the pine And B is for Billy Boy never behind C is for the chopping we early begin, D is for the danger we often are in. E is for echos that through the woods ring F is for the foreman, the boss of our gang. G is for the grindstone, we grind our axe on, H is for the handle so smoothly worn. Chorus So merry, so merry, so merry are we, No mortal on earth is as happy as we. Saw away, haul away, we chop with a song Give a shanty boy whiskey and nothing goes wrong. I is for iron, that marks all our pine, J is for the jolly boys always on time. K is for the keen edge on our axes we keep L is for the lice that keep us from sleep. M is for the moss we chink in our camps, N is for the needle, we sew up our pants, O is for the owls that hoot through the night P is for pines we fall in daylight. Chorus Q is for quarrelling, we do not allow R is for the rivers the logs they do plough S is for the sled so stout and so strong T is for the teams that haul them along. U is for use we put our teams to, V is for the valley we force our roads through, W is for woods we leave in the spring Of the other three letters tomorrow I’ll sing. Chorus X marks the spots that are all clear-cut Y is for the yards that have all been shut Z’s for zip lines that fly through the pines And now we have brought all the letters in rhyme Chorus
9.
The boss said, "aboard boys ifs twenty to eight If you don‘t want to work, you can catch the next freight So pick up your shovels, there's work to be done If you won‘t use a shovel, you can go on the bum. Chorus It‘s hailing it's raining but during the day The Lord works with Bennett to keep clouds away Now If I had Bennett where Bennet's got me Let me tell you lads, he'd be weak at the knees A year has gone by, boys, since I came on this road and the weight of my savings is a terrible load. I'd go on a trip, lads and all would be fine, But the C.P excursions cost more man a dime Chorus In years that's to come, boys, you'll hear some folks say The depression was awful, we worked for no pay But when will that be boys? If you should ask me My beard will be growing right down to my knees. Chorus
10.
Chorus Oh, those beans, bacon, and gravy, they almost drove me crazy, I’d eat them, I’d see them in my dreams. When I woke up each morning, another day was dawning, and I knew I’d have another mess of beans. I was born long ago, in eighteen ninety-four, I have seen many a panic, that’s for sure I’ve been hungry, I’ve been cold, and now I’m growing old, but the depression of thirty-one was the worst I’ve seen We would congregate each morning, at the county barn at dawning And everyone was happy, so it seemed, but when our work was done we would file in one by one, and thank the Lord for another mess of beans. We’d forgotten about butter and for milk we just had water And I hadn’t seen a steak in many a day. For cakes and pies and jellies, we would substitute sow belly, for which we worked on the county roads each day. If there ever came a time when I had more than a dime They would have had to put me under lock and key. For I was broke for so long, I could only sing the songs, of the workers and their misery.
11.
Oh well do I remember the year of forty-five I think myself quite lucky to find myself alive Harnessed up my horses, my business to pursue Went hauling cordwood, as I often used to do I only hauled one load, when I should have hauled four Got to Omemee and I couldn't haul no more The taverns, they be open, good liquor was flowing free Hadn't emptied one glass, when another was filled for me I met with an old acquaintance, and I dare not tell his name He was going to a dance, I thought I'd do the same He was going to that dance, where the fiddle was sweetly played And the boys and girls all danced till the breaking of the day I put my saddle on my arm and started for the barn To saddle up grey nag, I thought I'd no harm I saddled up grey nag, and rode away so still I never drew a breath, till I came to Downeyville I got to Downeyville and the night was far advanced I got on the floor, to have a little dance The fiddler, he being rested, his arm stout and strong Played the round of old Ireland for four hours long My father followed after, I heard the people say He must have had a pilot, he'd never have found his way He looked in every keyhole where he could see a light Till his old grey locks were wet with the dew of the night Oh well do I remember the year of forty-five
12.
Hey, hey Baptiste, throw away that saw Your old gum boots, and your mackinaw Grab your dancing shoes and away we saw It’s Saturday night in the Kawarthas Saturday night in the Kawarthas   It’s Saturday night in the Kawarthas The best old time that you ever saw We all head down to Lakefield town Saturday night for the big hoedown Saturday night for the big hoedown   Old-time fiddles there to jazz ya Pretty girls from Katchewanooka Swing that gal from Baltimore And tamarack‘er down on the old pine floor And tamarack‘er down on the old pine floor Our good friend Don from the Little Lake Will wheeze a tune at the supper break The Robs and John, they will be there too And the Kirby boy’ll pull strings for you The Kirby boy’ll pull strings for you Hey, hey there Mac, throw away that axe You and the rest of the lumberjacks Grab your dancing shoes and away we saw It’s Saturday night in the Kawarthas Saturday night in the Kawarthas Hey, hey Marie, come along with me This is your old Mac, and we’re on a spree Grab your dancing shoes and away we saw It’s Saturday night in the Kawarthas Saturday night in the Kawarthas Hey, hey there Mac, throw away that saw Your old gum boots, and your mackinaw Grab your dancing shoes and away we saw It’s Saturday night in the Kawarthas Saturday night in the Kawarthas

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 hand printed edition of 30.
Find out more at www.robniezen.com/printmaking/cross-cut/

credits

released August 13, 2022

Allan Kirby: lead vocals on 2 and 6, dobro, banjo, guitar
Don Duncan: lead vocals on 9 and 10, harmonica
John Bird: lead vocals on 12, banjo-ukulele, contrabass recorder, soprano recorder, washboard
Rob Cory: lead vocals on 4, 7 and 11, backing vocals, guitar, harmonica
Rob Niezen: lead vocals on 1, 3, 5 and 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

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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

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