Chantey Singer v2

Alison Lee Freeman is a 21st century chantey singer with an extraordinary voice easily heard over gale force winds. She grew up in Bath, the City of Ships, where sea chanteys are a part of the musical curriculum. Shipbuilding is the past and present at the mouth of Maine’s Mighty Kennebec River. In 1607 Maine’s first ship, the Virginia, was built by the Popham Colony before the settlers gave up and returned to England in 1608. Today the Bath Iron Works builds destroyers for the US Navy and the Maine Maritime Museum offers visitors a journey back in time. History is alive in these songs, please sing along!

In his 1932 book, Capstan Bars, David W. Bone says, “Brought on shore together with our discarded spars and canvas, we had thought our working songs would disappear with much of the seamanship they inspired. Strangely, they have been rescued from the junk heap by an uncanny trick of the very power that condemned them. As part of radio programmes broadcast they have become popular. In the process of adapting them to the requirements of professional singers they are in danger of becoming polished and shiny.” He goes on to say that he believes that “their purpose may be forgotten”. These arrangements may be “polished and shiny”, but the purpose of these songs has not been forgotten.

Blow Boys Blow
Can't Ye Dance the Polka
Eight Bells
The Maid of Amsterdam
Blow Ye Winds
Haul Away Joe
Hanging Johnny
Donkey Riding
Song of the Fishes
General Taylor
John Cherokee
Shenandoah
Alison’s Saab Story

Produced by A L Freeman and Chris Lannon

Recorded at Db Studios, Wiscasset, ME

Engineered and mixed by Chris Lannon

Additional Engineering by Arthur Webster

Except tracks 4, 7, 10, & 11 Engineered by Bill Barrett and Arthur Webster

Track 13 engineered and mixed by Ducky Carlisle, Room 9 from Outer Space

Mastered by Chris Lannon

Alison Lee Freeman - vocals, 12 string guitar, concertina, and percussion

Rick Freeman – vocals

Chris Lannon – Guitar, mandolin, recorders, & percussion

Arthur Webster – string bass & harmonica

Additional vocals – C. Lannon & A. Webster (tracks 2 & 5), Bill Barrett (track 11), and Ducky Carlisle, Austin Nevins, & Mike Welch (track 13)

All songs TRAD

Except Alison’s Saab Story - Back River Music Works, BMI

Words by A L Freeman. Music based on the TRAD sea chantey “Randy Dandy-O”

For additional information, credits, and song lyrics please visit www.chantey.net

Photography by A M Freeman, Judy Barrows, and Kate Patten

CD Package Design by

Mel Green Graphic Design,

Gloucester, MA

www.melgreendesign.com

Blow, Boys, Blow

TRAD/ARR A L Freeman

Say was you ever on the Kennebec River. Blow, boys, blow;
The best built ships we do deliver. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

A Yankee ship came down the river. Blow, boys, blow;
Her masts and yards, they shine like silver. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

Oh, how do you know she's a Yankee liner? Blow, boys, blow;
By the stars and stripes streaming out behind her. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

How do you know she’s a Yankee packet? Blow, boys, blow;
When she fires her guns, you can hear the racket. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

Oh, how do you know she's a Yankee clipper? Blow, boys, blow;
By the blood and guts that run from her scuppers. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

Oh, what do you think they eats for dinner? Blow, boys, blow;
Pickled eels' feet and sandfly's liver. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

And what do you think they get for supper? Blow, boys, blow;
Oh, a punch in the mouth and a roll in the skuppers. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

What do you think that they had for cargo? Blow, boys, blow;
Why black sheep that have run the embargo. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

Blow today and blow tomorrow. Blow, boys, blow;
Blow away all care and sorrow. Blow, me bully boys, blow.

Can’t Ye Dance the Polka?

TRAD/ARR A L Freeman, Source: Stan Hugill

As I walked down the Broadway
One evening in July
I met a maid who asked me trade
And a sailor John says I

Then away you santee
My dear Annie
Oh, you New York Girls
Can’t you dance the polka?

To Tiffany's I took her
I did not mind expense
I bought her two gold earrings
And they cost me fifteen cents

Says she, 'You Limejuice sailor
Now see me home you may'
But when we reached her cottage door
She this to me did say

My flash man he's a Yankee
With his hair cut short behind
He wears a pair of long sea-boots
And he sails in the Blackball Line

He's homeward bound this evening
And with me he will stay
So get a move on, sailor-boy
Get cracking on your way

So I kissed her hard and proper
Afore her flash man came
And fare ye well, me Bowery gal
I know your little game

I wrapped me glad rags round me
And to the docks did steer
I'll never court another maid
I'll stick to rum and beer

I joined a Yankee blood-boat
And sailed away next morn
Don't ever fool around with gals
You're safer off Cape Horn

Eight Bells

English Forbitter. Source: Stan Hugill

Not associated with Artic Whalers, but with the sperm whale fisherman of the south seas. In the Artic the lookout’s position was in a barrel at the masthead. In the South Pacific the lookout stood on the top-gallant crosstrees inside two hoops that were secured to the royal mast.

Oh, me husband’s a saucy foretop man

Oh, a chum of the cook, don’t ye know

He put his head down the cook’s funnel

An’ he shouted “Come up from below”

Eight bells, eight bells. Rouse out there the watch from below
Eight bells, eight bells. Rouse out there the watch from below

My husband once shipped in a whaler

An’ he sailed to the far northern seas

An’ bein’ a bold-hearted sailor

He cared not for ice, sea, nor breeze

When up in the hoops he wuz dandy

At sightin’ a whale when she blows

When out in the whaleboat wuz handy

A smarter young tar never rowed

At the end of his watch, oh his fancy

Wuz to git to his bunk quickly-O

For he wanted to dream o’his Nancy

So he shouted “Come up from below”

An’ now he’s no longer a sailor

He often wakes up in the night

Thinkin’ he’s still on that whaler

Shouts out with the greatest delight

The Maid of Amsterdam

TRAD/ARR A L Freeman

In Amsterdam there lived a maid

Mark well what I do say

In Amsterdam there lived a maid

And she was mistress of her trade