Song by: Mary Garvey
Performed by: Brownsmead Flats
Song Notes: by Alice Winship
Lyrics referenced from Maritime Folknet

---

It’s not very far to Astoria’s bar
But a very long journey it can be
It can start at the mouth of the mighty blue river
And end at the bottom of the sea.

And the river still shines and shimmers in the light
As it did in my grandfather’s day
When they rowed all night and fished in the morning
And lived in Willapa Bay.

When the tide is rough, so very, very rough,
So rough that you cannot stand;
It drives the little fish right into the nets,
And the boats right into the sand.

In the mist and the rain, the labor and the pain
We know what the fishing here is worth
It is worth more than gold as we suck ’em from the hold;
It is worth all the treasures of the earth.

It’s not very far to Astoria’s bar
But a very long journey it can be
It can start at the mouth of the mighty blue river
And end at the bottom of the sea.

And the river still shines and shimmers in the light
As it did in my grandfather’s day
When they rowed all night and fished in the morning
And lived in Willapa Bay.

Traditional
Variant heard at Northwest Folklife 2025, Seattle, WA

Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Day is a breaking in my soul

Oh where are our dear Mothers
Oh where are our dear Mothers
Oh where are our dear Mothers
Day is a breaking in my soul

Oh where are our dear Fathers
Oh where are our dear Fathers
Oh where are our dear Fathers
Day is a breaking in my soul

Some are gone to the river praying
Some are gone to the river praying
Some are gone to the river praying
Day is a breaking in my soul

Some are gone to heaven shouting
Some are gone to heaven shouting
Some are gone to heaven shouting
Day is a breaking in my soul

Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Bright morning stars are rising
Day is a breaking in my soul

If I had another penny
I would have another gill
I would make the piper play
‘The Bonny Lass of Byker Hill’

{Chorus}
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads for evermore
Byker Hill and Walker Shore
Collier lads for evermore

The pitman and the keelman trim
They drink bumble made from gin
Then to dance they all begin
To the tune of the “Elsie Marley”

When first I went down to the dirt
I had no cowl nor pitshirt
Now I’ve gotten two or three
Walker Pit’s done well by me

All the boys from Walker Shore
Drink half a pint then eighteen more
All the way they rant and roar
To the tune of the “Elsie Marley”

Geordie Charlton had a pig
He hit it with a shovel and it danced a jig
All the way to Walker Shore
To the tune of the Elsie Marley

If I had another penny
I would have another gill
I would make the piper play
‘The Bonny Lass of Byker Hill’

{Chorus x2}

by Bevan Bartlett

(I start the chorus on C5)

Chorus

Get drunk and yell, get drunk and yell
Down by the pump station, but we’re too drunk to smell
Get drunk and yell, get drunk and yell
All my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

(I start verses on G#4)

V1 (Bevan Bartlett)

Gather round me my friends and I’ll sing you a song
And I’ll try not to make it too mournful or long
Although these are the songs that I do love so well
All my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

V2 (Archie Stapleton)

On jolly occasions such as these here
Some like to sip slowly on three percent beer
But three’s not enough as they gladly will tell
For my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

V3 (Dylan Brown)

The songs that we sing tell a sorrowful tell
Songs of killing a man or of hunting a whale
I like songs of Gil Brenton or Frobisher as well (?)
But my friends they would rather just get drunk and yell

V4 (Seamus Lahey)

It’s the end of the night and it’s time to move on
I’ve drunk my last beer and I’ve sung my last song
But as I go to leave and to bid them farewell
All my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

V5 (Rob Ely)

I’m up in the bleachers intent on the game
To follow the action’s the reason I came
If they’d pay attention it sure would be swell
But my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

V6 (Peter Rothbart)

As winter arrives and the solstice draws near
We spread season’s greetings and holiday cheer
But there’s no Let It Snow, Deck The Halls, or Noel
For my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

V7 (Peter Rothbart)

We’re in lotus pose at the yoga retreat
I focus my breathing and center my chi
I’ve got balance to find and desires to quell
But my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

V8 (Peter Rothbart)

We’re drifting through space on the Enterprise D
After fighting the Borg with the rest of Starfleet
While I’m making repairs to the starboard nacelle
All my friends, they would rather just get drunk and yell

by Nancy Kerr

Hand me down some changing rhyme
Some embraces never bind
Oh hand me down your dancing line
Then I'll know I'm home
Then I'll know I'm home

When I arrived in this old town
Hand me down, oh, hand me down
When I arrived in this old town
Some forty voices they gathered round
And I was coming home
I was coming home

Hand me down ...

Some go ahead, some stay behind
Hand me down, oh, hand me down
Some go ahead, some stay behind
We navigate by the souls we find
And I am coming home
I am coming home

Hand me down ...

I’m navigating by one more star
Hand me down, oh, hand me down
I’m navigating by one more star
It’s shining bright to show I’ve come this far
And I am coming home
I am coming home

Hand me down ...

Hand me down ...

If I were a marryin’ man,
I’d marry a piper’s daughter.
If I were a marryin’ man,
I’d marry a piper’s daughter.

‘Cause she’d blow hard,
and I’d blow hard,
and we’d blow hard together.
Blowin’ hard in the middle of the night,
Blowin’ hard forever!

If I were a marryin’ man,
I’d marry a plumber’s daughter.
If I were a marryin’ man,
I’d marry a plumber’s daughter.

‘Cause she’d lay pipe,
and I’d lay pipe,
and we’d lay pipe together.
Layin’ pipe in the middle of the night,
Layin’ pipe forever!

If I were a marryin’ man,
I’d marry a farmer’s daughter.
If I were a marryin’ man,
I’d marry a farmer’s daughter.

‘Cause she’d raise cock,
and I’d raise cock,
and we’d raise cock together.
Raisin’ cock in the middle of the night,
Raisin’ cock forever!

---

I first heard this from Jimmy Kelly in Princeton, BC, Canada in 2025.

Traditional
Arrangement by The Clancy Brothers, 1959
Variant as heard in Seattle, WA, 2025

One pleasant evening in the month of June
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was the jug of punch

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was the jug of punch

What more diversion can a man desire
Than to sit him down by an alehouse fire
Upon his knee a pretty wench
Aye, and on the table a jug of punch

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Upon his knee a pretty wench
Aye, and on the table a jug of punch

Let the doctors come with all their art
They’ll make no impression upon my heart
Even the cripple forgets his hunch
When he’s snug outside of a jug of punch

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Even the cripple forgets his hunch
When he’s snug outside of a jug of punch

And if I get drunk, well the money’s me own
And them don’t like me they can leave me alone
I’ll tune my fiddle and I’ll rosin my bow
And I’ll be welcome wherever I go

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
I’ll tune my fiddle and I’ll rosin my bow
And I’ll be welcome wherever I go

And when I’m dead and in my grave
No costly tombstone will I crave
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet

[Repeat last chorus if desired]

Oh ho, the rattlin’ bog
The bog down in the valley-o
Oh ho, the rattlin’ bog
The bog down in the valley-o

And in that bog there was a hole,
A rare hole, a rattlin’ hole!
Hole in the bog,
– and the bog down in the valley-oh

Flea
Feather
Bird
Egg
Nest
Twig
Branch
Limb
Tree
Hole
Bog

By Judy B. Goodenough

Little piggy hollered in the middle of the night,
“Tell me now, Mama, I wanna get it right.
What’ll I be when I get big?”
“Hush,” said his mama, “You’re gonna be a pig.

CHORUS
“That’s how it is when you get older,
“You’re bacon, butt, and picnic shoulder.
“All my sons and all my daughters
“Are hocks and hams and tails and trotters.”

“Oh, no,” said the piggy, “That’s mighty hard,
“There’s more to me than loin and lard.
“I can walk and talk, I’m young and strong.”
“Hush,” said his mama, “Not for long.”

“Oh, no,” said the piggy, and he started to howl,
“There’s more to me than cheek and jowl.
“I’m pink and pretty, I can sing and dance.”
“Hush,” said his mama, “You’ll never get a chance.”

“Oh, no,” said the piggy, “I’ll show you all.”
He went under the fence and over the wall.
He ran and he ran till the moon went down;
He ran and he ran till he came to a town.

With a kink in his tail and a wink in his eye,
He put on a hat and he put on a tie;
He parted his hair, bought a diamond ring,
And nobody noticed anything.

“Oh, see,” said the piggy, “I’m one of you.”
And everyone said, “How true, how true.”
He paid his money and he lived in style;
Sometimes he sang with half a smile:

He’s a big boar now, he’s executive pork,
And he eats his vittles with a knife and fork;
He often thinks of the lonesome tune
His mama sang by the light of the moon:

Some friends and I
In a public house
Were playing cards one night
Into the room the barman came
His face all chalky white
“What’s up?” says Brown
“Have you seen a ghost?
Have you seen your Aunt Mariah?”
“Oh me Aunt Mariah be buggered!” said he
“The bloody pub’s on fire!”
“On fire!” says Brown
“What a bit of luck
Everybody follow me
Down to the cellar, if the fire’s not there
We’ll have a rare old spree!”
So we all went down after good old Brown
Booze we could not miss
And we weren’t there 5 minutes or more
‘Til we were all half pissed

And there was Brown, upside down
Lappin’ up the whiskey off the floor
“Booze! Booze!” the firemen cried
As they came knockin’ at the door
Don’t let them in till it’s all mopped up
Somebody shouted “MacIntyre” (MacIntyre!)
And we all got blue blind
Paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire

Then Smith went over
To the port wine tub
Gave it a few hard knocks
Started takin’ off his pantaloons
Likewise his shoes and socks
“Hold on!” Says Brown
“We can’t have that!
You can’t do that in here!
Don’t go washin’ your trotters
In the port wine tub
(Seattle:) When we’ve got all this Rainier beer
(Orig:) When we’ve got all this Lite beer”

Just then there came an awful crash
Half the bloody roof gave way
We were drowned in the fireman’s hose
Still, we were going to stay
So we got some tacks
And our old wet slacks
And nailed ourselves inside
And we sat there swallowin’
Pints of stout
Till we were bleary-eyed!

Then there came from the old back door
The vicar of the local church
And when he saw our drunken ways
He began to scream and curse
“Ah, you drunken sods! You heathen clods!
You’ve take to a drunken spree!
You drank up all the Benedictine wine
And you didn’t save a drop for me!”

Late that night, when the fire was out
We came up from the cellar below
Our pub was burned, our booze was drunk
Our heads was hanging low
“Oh look!”, says Brown with a look quite queer
Something raised his eye
“We gotta get down to Murphy’s Pub
It closes on the hour!”

• Adapted from “The Prickly Bush” (Bronson 95.17), sung by Heywood Sumner, Somerset, collected in English County Songs, Broadwood & Maitland, 1893
• Adapted from “Hangman” (Bronson 95.12), sung by Mary Drain, Arkansas, 1942, collected by Vance Randolph (Vol. I, 1946, p. 146)
• Adapted from “The Prickle Holly Bush” (Bronson 95.20), sung by Walter Lucas, Dorset, 1951
• Adapted from Bellowhead, 2015
• Variant by Lixie, 2025

---

Chorus:
What’s the life of a man any more than a leaf?
A man has his seasons so why should he grieve?
Although in this world we appear fine and gay,
Like the leaves we must wither and soon fade away.

As I was a-walking one morning at ease
A-viewing the leaves as they hung from the trees,
They were all in full motion appearing to be
And those that were withered, they fell from the trees.

Chorus:
What’s the life of a man any more than a leaf?
A man has his seasons so why should he grieve?
Although in this world we appear fine and gay,
Like the leaves we must wither and soon fade away.

If you’d seen those trees just a few days ago
They were all in full motion, appearing to grow.
A frost came upon them and withered them all,
And the rains came upon them, and down they did fall.

Chorus:
What’s the life of a man any more than a leaf?
A man has his seasons so why should he grieve?
Although in this world we appear fine and gay,
Like the leaves we must wither and soon fade away.

Go down to the graveyard, and there you will see,
Those that have passed like a leaf from a tree.
When age and affliction upon them did call,
Like a leaf they did wither and down they did fall.

Chorus:
What’s the life of a man any more than a leaf?
A man has his seasons so why should he grieve?
Although in this world we appear fine and gay,
Like the leaves we must wither and soon fade away.