1. |
Roseberry Road
04:32
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On Roseberry Road, the corn is as sweet as sugar
It grows in the garden Dad planted in emerald rows
I follow the string and discover an Indian headdress
But Norton is there and he breaks all my arrows and bows.
On Roseberry Road, on Roseberry Road
On Roseberry Road, on Roseberry Road.
On Roseberry Road, it’s hide-and-seek round the clothesline
There’s Two Little Miners and Bozo Under the Sea
An airplane writes on the sky when there’s nobody looking
And Saturday baseball in black-and-white on the TV.
On Roseberry Road, it’s silent on Sunday morning
Except the piano with one finger playing the keys
My mother drinks Postum she makes in a red and white teacup
And eats apple pie with a slice of Kraft Velveeta cheese.
On Roseberry Road, it's Andy who's always knocking
The sitter just sits and Dad looks for the keys to the car
Butterfly’s singing and Zeyza lives in the basement
The witch on the corner can’t see our gold holiday star.
On Roseberry Road, the sun is forever shining
On neat little houses with lawns that are perfectly mowed
It’s so far away I can’t even remember the day now
We drove away waving goodbye to Roseberry Road.
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2. |
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When I first stepped in a canoe
I made a fatal mistake
I planted my heel one side of the keel
And pitched head-first in the lake
I had no reason to think
It would tip before you could blink
And take all your talents for
Keeping your balance or
Else you’d land in the drink
Which is what I proceeded to do
When I first stepped in a canoe.
When I first soloed in a canoe
It took me a while to learn
That you sit in the bow (though I didn’t know how
You could tell the damn thing from the stern)
I paddled the rest of the day
In circles and growing dismay
I hadn’t a clue
That to steer the thing true
Your stroke had to end with a ‘J’
Which no one had taught me to do
When I first soloed in a canoe.
When I first kneel in a canoe
I paddle with languorous grace
But it’s all a mirage when you have to portage
With blackflies eating your face
As I stagger off into the trees
At least I am off of my knees
Which I haven’t quite felt
Since the minute I knelt
And my kneecaps turned into cheese
Which is what they instantly do
When I first kneel in a canoe.
Now, the best thing about a canoe
May be just what it is not
Like loud and aggressive and big and excessive
Like a ski boat or millionaire's yacht
It's at home on lake, stream, or chute
It won't harm a beaver or coot
It may take some labour
But like a good neighbour
It won't make noise or pollute
So when asked if you want a Sea Doo
Say, “Thanks, but I'd rather canoe.”
Now it’s time to skedaddle
(God, I wish these had a saddle)
And paddle off in my canoe.
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3. |
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My mama believes that there is a heaven
Where good people go when they die
She believes that heaven is life’s happy ending
And Lord knows, I wish so did I.
My mama believes that blessed salvation
Pours down like rain from the sky
My mama believes all sins are forgiven
And Lord knows, I wish so did I.
Lord knows, I wish so did I
But believin’ don’t happen
Just ’cause you try
My mama has told me to trust in God’s mercy
“On Him, son, you can always rely!”
My mama believes the Lord is our shepherd
And Lord knows, I wish so did I.
Lord knows, I wish so did I
But my cup is empty
And the fountain’s run dry
My mama believes what she reads in the Bible
Trusting and never asks why
My mama believes God has all the answers
And Lord knows, I wish so did I.
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4. |
Butter Tarts
03:15
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You may talk about your pastries of Vienna
Or the cakes they sell in Paris à la carte
Such as almond Pithiviers or gâteau Saint-Honoré
But there’s none that can compare with butter tarts.
Oh, we eat them by the dozens at the cottage
In the country they’re a kind of tourist art
There is many a city slicker driving with a bumper sticker
That reads, CAUTION: THIS CAR BRAKES FOR BUTTER TARTS.
Now, there’s some that like the filling almost solid
For the robust, chewy texture it imparts
While others, just as choosy, like it syrupy and oozy
You just can’t account for taste in butter tarts.
Well, I can’t resist a piece of apple strudel
I’ve a tender spot for shortbread in my heart
I can always justify a second piece of cherry pie
But quite frankly I’d prefer a butter tart.
Au Québec, on mange la tire sur neige au printemps
En hiver y’a la poutine et la tourtière
En automne les fèves au lard, et le rôti de canard
Mais toute l’année on peut manger les tartes au beurre.
Now from time to time this country looks quite fragile
And threatens every day to come apart
But Anglophone or Québécois, east to west ’cross Canada
People stick together ’cause of butter tarts.
Butter tarts, butter tarts
People stick together ’cause of butter tarts.
Butter tarts, butter tarts
They’re a good excuse to stay intact
They may be all we’ve got, in fact
We’re Canadian as a dozen butter tarts.
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5. |
The Campfire Song
04:22
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The dry tinder catches, the kindling’s alight
The campfire crackles on a warm summer's night
A wisp of smoke curls, rising up to the moon
From out on the lake comes the call of a loon
The fire’s burning down to a few glowing coals
We’ve chocolate bars, marshmallows, hot dogs and rolls
And when we’ve all eaten, it won’t be too long
Till somebody asks for a song.
CHORUS
Let’s sing an old song that everyone knows
La-la-la-la – we all know how it goes
Sing out in harmony pure, sweet, and strong
Singing a campfire song.
Our first song's a campsong that's known far and wide
My Grandfather’s Clock, Rise and Shine, Side by Side
Or On Top of Old Smokey, The Erie Canal
Take Me Out to the Ball Game, For Me and My Gal
Then one of those songs we all help to compose
Like Down by the Bay (where that watermelon grows)
And how ’bout some action songs—I think we should
Head and Shoulders, My Bonnie, Little Cabin in the Wood.
Add-a-verse memory songs none can resist:
With every new stanza, sing back through the list
Then how ’bout a round, we all know a few
First I’ll start, then you start, then you start, then you
Let’s not forget there are folksongs galore
Log Driver’s Waltz, Michael Row the Boat Ashore
This Land Is Your Land, Irene, Four Strong Winds
Wayfaring Stranger, the Saints Marching In.
How ’bout some show tunes or old Rock ’n’ Roll
Some Country or Cowboy or Doo Wop or Soul
I know we’ll sing Beatles before the night ends
And try to get by with a little help from our friends
There’s hymns for cathedrals, and shanties for ships
There’s cheers for arenas, canoe songs for trips
But any song counts as a campfire song
If it’s one we all know
In the campfire’s glow
If it’s one where we all sing along.
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6. |
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Where the river Oswegatchie winds through old upstate New York
There stands a white gazebo on the shore
To some it’s just a lookout with a certain rustic charm
But look out, ’cause to me it’s something more—
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
By the E-RI-E Canal
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
That’s where I met my gal
She smiled at me one day in May
My heart sang, “Hip! Hip! Hooray!”
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
By the E-RI-E Canal.
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
By the pale moonlight
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
We kissed one summer’s night
We made a wish we’d wed one day
On each star in the Milky Way
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
By the pale moonlight.
When autumn winds began to blow
We bought her wedding ring
And shiv’ring through the winter snow
We watched for signs of spring
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
In April we were wed
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
While the birds sang overhead
The Oswegatchie shone like gold
As we vowed to have and hold
In the gazebo on the Oswegatchie
In April we were wed
While the birds sang overhead.
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7. |
Last Words
02:24
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What do you say at the close of life?
To father, mother, husband, wife?
“No more struggle, no more strife
“Time to go on home.”
What do you say there at the end?
No hope to heal, no way to mend?
“Farewell, my love”—“Goodbye, old friend
“It’s time to go on home.”
What do you say as you smooth their hair?
“No more sorrow, no more care
“No more burdens left to bear
“You’re on your journey home.”
What do you say to pain and loss
Hot as fire, cold as moss?
“One more river yet to cross
“Then welcome, welcome home.”
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8. |
It Isn't Enough
02:44
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The life you save may be your own
Moss doesn’t cling to a rolling stone
The tough get going when the going gets tough
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
Virtue is its own reward
The pen is mightier than the sword
Snow White, Rose Red, Billy Goats Gruff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
The darkest hour is just before dawn
You never know what you’ve got till it’s gone
Jib, tack, mains’l, fores’l, luff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
Hearts are trump, Jokers wild
Spare the rod and spoil the child
Leapfrog, jump rope, blind man’s bluff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
A penny saved is a penny earned
Play with fire and you’ll get burned
Cigarette, see-gar, pipe, chaw, snuff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
With the same breath man blows hot and cold
All that glitters is not gold
Navy, scarlet, silver, buff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
Jesus saves, Moses invests
Thank you, your honour, the defense rests
Codpiece, doublet, breeches, ruff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
They say a watched pot never boils
To the victor go the spoils
Banquo, Duncan, Macbeth, Macduff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
Half a loaf is better than none
A woman’s work is never done
Collar, pant leg, shirtsleeve, cuff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
Stop the presses, hold the phone
The sweetest meat is near the bone
Armstrong, Brewer, Keon, Duff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
The end must justify the means
Mind your manners and eat your greens
Green, cup, fairway, sand trap, rough
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
Get off your ass, get on your feet
Get out of the kitchen if you can’t stand the heat
Parka, sweater, mittens, muff
You only live once and it isn’t enough.
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9. |
Don't Make Me Sing Along
03:58
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It’s always so much work to see a concert nowadays
Fight traffic, find a parking spot, then stand in line to pay
I’m finally nestled in my seat, awaft on wings of song
When suddenly, the singer says:
“You may have thought you were coming here tonight to sit back and listen while we did all the work, but we’re going to ask you to sing along!”
CHORUS
Don’t make me sing along
Don’t make me sing along
When you perform your song
Do it on your own, leave the audience alone
Keep the entertainment on the stage
’Cause that’s where it belongs
Keep the house lights low, I’m not in the show
Don’t make me sing along.
When I eat in a restaurant, I’m not asked to make dessert
When I take in my cleaning, I’m not asked to press a shirt
When I watch the Blue Jays at the Dome, they don’t make me catch or throw
So even when I watch Pete Seeger strum his old banjo
I’m thinking—
Last night I dreamed I died and met St. Peter at the gate
He handed me a harp and said, “My boy, now don’t be late
“God’s choosing angels for the choir of the righteous and the blessed!”
“No thanks, St. Pete,” says I, “I’m here for my eternal rest!
“Gosh darn it”—
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10. |
The Basket's Story
04:20
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I was born in nineteen hundred three
When a Gitxsan woman in B.C.
Pulled bark strips off a cedar tree
With hatchet, hands, and knife
After soaking and splitting and drying them, she
Cut thin strands so carefully
And with her skill in basketry
She wove me into life.
The woman sang her grandmother’s song
As she plaited me so light and strong
To last a gatherer’s work life-long
In the fields of hops and berries
I served her well, I served her long
The years I did to her belong
And then she sold me for a song
To a man from off the ferries.
CHORUS
Spruce root, cedar bark, plaited, coiled, twined
Sewn and folded birch bark rind
Lore, art, nature all entwined
And held within a basket.
The man he kept a general store
With souvenirs of “Indian” lore
Baskets stacked up by the door
A magnet for the tourist
A wealthy woman came in who
Sometimes bought a piece or two
With a certain silhouette or hue
That pleased her inner purist.
“Now here’s a basket that will shine
“Patina, shape, and weave so fine
“Traditional but unique design
“With lots of use—I’ll buy it.”
She treasured me for many years
Displayed with several of my peers
Saying, “Here’s a sight that always cheers
“My heart—I can’t deny it.”
My owner died after many’s a year
And left me to her best friend dear
As a keepsake and a souvenir
Of love and admiration
And as her own old age drew near
This keen museum volunteer
Brought me in and told them, “Here
“I’m making a donation.”
The curator took one look at me
And said, “How marvelous! Can it be?
“We’ve a photograph where you can see
“This basket with its weaver!”
So here I am for all to see
I’m Tool, I’m Art, I’m Memory
The work of a woman’s hands to be
Remembered now forever.
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11. |
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Everyone has regrets
Large or small, no one forgets
Choices made
Debts unpaid
Roads not taken
Dreams forsaken
And as my own pass in review
I sometimes catch a glimpse of you—
Part of me will always love you
Love you till the day I die
Part of me will long to hold you
As I longed to do in years gone by
Part of me will want to kiss you
Though wanting never made it so
Part of me will always love you
As I did so long ago.
We never know where life will take us
We never know what love may bring
Never know what words unspoken
Might have changed—everything
Part of me will always wonder
What might have been but now can’t be
Part of me will always love you
And wonder if a part of you loves me.
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12. |
Denial
02:28
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I said to the hangman
Just before he slipped the noose around my neck
“For some time now, I’ve been so tense
“And my nerves are such a wreck
“So I wonder if you’d be so kind
“If you’d be a pal, if you wouldn’t mind
“Give me a minute to unwind
“After I drop down through the deck.”
I said to the headsman
Just before I lay my head upon the block
“You know, I didn’t sleep a wink last night
“With the ticking of the clock
“There’s a throbbing now inside my brain
“And you know it’s driving me insane
“Could you give me something for the pain
“After you’ve finished with your tomahawk?”
I said to the captain
Just before he put the blindfold to my eyes
“Please, sir, my poor heart’s broken
“By a fickle lover’s lies
“I feel so sad now, so upset
“Can you help me to forget
“All my heartache, suffering, and regret—
“My, isn’t that a lovely sunrise!”
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13. |
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When life in the city is wearing me down
It’s hot and it’s smelly, the air’s turning brown
I’m tired of the traffic, I’m tired of the town
While the sun shines I want to make hay
Get out to the country, find a lake or a stream
Where the blue waters glisten, the granite rocks gleam
Out of a nightmare and into a dream
Canoeing my troubles away.
Canoeing my troubles away
On a lake or a river, I could paddle all day
I’d get endless enjoyment from full-time employment
Canoeing my troubles away.
On a warm summer’s night paddling under the moon
The shush of my paddle, the cry of the loon
Moonlight and starlight upon the lagoon
My canoe’s a cathedral to pray
And while steering through rapids, midst the boil and the hiss –
It’s “Look out! Bow rudder!” – another near miss –
I think, “Lord, it just doesn’t get better than this!”
Canoeing my troubles away.
Canoeing my troubles away
Give me flat or white water, I can paddle all day
I’d trade a month down in Boca for an hour in Muskoka
Canoeing my troubles away.
Where Lake Kashagawigamog beckons to me
Lake Rosseau, Lake Joseph, Waseosa, and Tea
The French and Grand rivers, likewise the Souris
They’re all blooms in the paddler’s bouquet
I feel my heart lighten as I head up the lake
My worries get smaller with each stroke I take
Disappear in the eddies that swirl in my wake
Canoeing my troubles away.
Canoeing my troubles away
In shallows or whitecaps, I can paddle all day
You can bet your sweet fanny when I’m on the Nahanni
I’m canoeing my troubles – they’re bursting like bubbles –
Canoeing my troubles away.
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14. |
Dance With Me
03:03
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Well you can
Sit at the bar all by your lonesome
Cry salty tears in your beers and moan some
Take a taxi home and have a nice cuppa tea
Or you can take a chance and come and dance with me.
And you can
Text on your phone, follow friends on Facebook
Check out your calendar and how your days look
Watch all the sports up on the big TV
Or take a chance and come and dance with me.
Come on and
Dance with me, darling, while the band is playing
Dance and the music gonna set you free
Dance – I can see your body gently swaying
Come on, baby, maybe take a ch-chance on me
Oh we can
Dance through the night, trip the light fantastic
Nice and easy—nothing too gymnastic
Take me by the hand and I will guarantee
You’ll be glad you took the chance to dance with me.
Come on and
Dance with me, darling, while the band is playing
Dance and the music gonna set you free
Dance – I can see your body gently swaying
Come on, baby, maybe find romance with me
Oh we can
Dance through the night, trip the light fantastic
Nice and easy—nothing too gymnastic
Take me by the hand and I will guarantee
You’ll be glad you took the chance to dance with me.
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15. |
Smores
02:27
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I went out on a four-day trip when I first went to camp
From dawn to dusk in our canoe I paddled like a champ
But when the sun was sinking low we stopped to pitch our tent
And that is when I learned what fine canoe trip dining meant
’Cause after supper round the fire ’neath the starry dome
Our tripper showed us how to make a treat we’d never had at home
Makin’ s’mores – so much fun
Eatin’ s’mores – every mother’s son
Wantin’ s’mores – we had only just begun
Havin’ s’mores – lovin’ each and every one
The sound of happy campers echoed on the rocky shores
As we crowded round the fire and we made ourselves some more s’mores.
Well, you take a couple squares of chocolate, milk or bittersweet
You lay them on a graham cracker—Step One is complete
Your fire’s burning down to coals and when it gently glows
You take a sharpened stick and skewer two white marshmallows
You toast ’em till they’re golden brown and then proceed to lay ’em
Upon the chocolate so it melts and top ’em with another graham
Makin’ s’mores – so much fun
Eatin’ s’mores – till the rising sun
Wantin’ s’mores – you should pardon the pun
Havin’ s’mores – betcha can’t eat only one
Never mind the butter tarts, forget the petit fours
They can't compare—for outdoor fare, there's nothing better than s’mores.
Now some folks eat their graham crackers with a glass of milk
And some folks munch a chocolate bar by Lindt that’s smooth as silk
There’s some that toast their marshmallows and eat ’em off the stick
Or melt them in their cocoa so they make it sweet and thick
But none of these components, solo, ever really soars
Until the magic synergy that happens when you make s’mores
Makin’ s’mores – too much fun
Eatin’ s’mores – they are second to none
If you want a s’more – you know how it's done
Then have a s’more – ’cause I gotta run
It’s time to take a final bow and one or two encores
So grab your chocolate, crackers, stick—come on and make s’mores!
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16. |
Thanks for the Song
03:36
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Here’s to beginnings, here’s to ends
Here’s to friendship, here’s to friends
Here’s to singing, here’s to song
Ere they’ve passed us, may they last us all a whole life long—
Thanks for the song
It’s time for us to part
Thanks for the song
You’ve really touched my heart
We’ll stay good friends
Whatever bends
Dame Fortune sends our way
And hope that you
And all us too
Will meet again someday
Thanks for the song
It’s time to say goodnight
We’ll move along
They’re turning out the light
Let’s do it all again
Have a ball again
Call again before long
But till that day
We’ll just say
Thanks for the song.
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Shelley Posen Ottawa, Ontario
SHELLEY POSEN is a Canadian songwriter and performer of his own and traditional songs. He writes in many styles and on many subjects. His songs are widely recognized for their wit, craftsmanship, and the profound effect many seem to have on listeners.
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