about the record

This recording and my live "Lomax on Lomax" performances present the Lomax family's contributions to American culture over five generations and 148 years. I have chosen 26 songs that were found, written, recorded, and/or popularized by family members: my grandfather, John Avery Lomax, uncle Alan Lomax, aunt Bess Lomax Hawes and my Dad, John A. Lomax Jr., "The Dean of Texas Folk Singers." He was also a founder of The Houston Folklore Society, which is still going 73 years later. Special Guest Rattlesnake Annie sings one of her best songs. I wrote one by myself and another with James Tristan Redding. Thus, the digital version of AMERICAN FOLK SONGS delivers a spoken word Introduction and 26 tracks! 

I WAS BORN 10,000 YEARS AGO
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar

I first heard this paean to prevarication in the early '50s when my dad and his folklore society buddies sang it. Elvis cut it and claimed authorship in 1970, but it sat "in the can" 50 years when it was released on his "Elvis in Nashville" album and only has one verse like my version. Stick around for the last verse, as it's a brand new one I wrote and in the true folk tradition, added it. 

I Was Born 10,000 Years AgoI was born ten thousand years agoAnd there ain’t nothing in this world I don’t knowI saw Peter, Paul & MosesPlayin’ ring around the rosesAnd I’ll whip the guy who says it isn’t so

Chorus: 
It's a lie, It's a lie
Ship ahoy, ship ahey, ship a hi-yi-yi
I sailed the seven seas in my dirty dungarees
But I never, never ever saw a Mermaid

I saw Satan when he looked the Garden o'er
Saw Adam and Eve driven from the door 
And from behind the bushes peeping
I saw the apple they were eatingI know ‘cuz I’m the guy what at the core

I taught Samson how to use his mightly handsFirst showed Columbus these happy landsAnd for Pharoah’s many kidsI built him PyramidsAnd to Sahara carried all the sands

I taught Solomon all his ABC’sWas the first man to eat limburger cheeseAnd while sailing in the BayWith Methusalah one dayI saw his whiskers flappin’ in the breeze
I saw Jonah embark within the whaleAnd I never thought he’d live to tell the taleBut Jonah was eatin’ garlicAnd he gave the whale the colicSo he belched him up and let him out of jail

Now, the next verse is about Queen Elizabeth but I'm not going to sing that verse out of respect for the lady. Instead, I've written my own last verse and ready or not, here it comes:

I was married to Madonna secretlyBut that gal was way too much for meSo I went 10,000 miles down unda’Found some heavy metal thundaAnd brought back the band AC/DC

Highway to hell, highway to hellDirty deeds done dirt cheap,dirty deeds done dirt cheap

Chorus:It’s a lie, It’s a LieShip ahoy, ship ahey, ship a hi-yi-yiI saiied the seven seas in my dirty dungareesBut I never, never ever saw a Mermaid

GIT ALONG LITTLE DOGIES
John A. Lomax Jr - Introduction
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar, fiddle

The story of John Avery's discovery of this song and others is fascinating and can be found in the 2017 reissue of his autobiography from 1947, Adventures of a Ballad Hunter.

My Dad feels this is one of our finest cowboy songs as it paints such a vivid picture of life on the trail, trying to keep the dogies whole as stragglers would become dinner for Indians, wolves, or coyotes.

Git Along Little Dogies
As I walked out one morning for pleasure 
I met a cowpuncher a riding along
His hat was throwed back and his spurs was a jingling
As he approached me a singing this song

(Chorus)
Whoopi ti yi yo, git along little dogies
It's your misfortune and none of my own
Whoopi ti yi yo, git along little dogies
For you know Wyoming will be your new home

Early in the spring we round up the dogies
Mark them and brand them and bob off their tails
Round up the horses, load up the chuck wagon
And throw them dogies up on the trail

It's whooping and yelling and drivin' them dogies
Oh how I wish that you would go on
It's whooping and punching and go on you little dogies
For you know Wyoming will be your new home

Your mother she was raised way down in Texas
Where the jimson weed and the sand burrs grow
Now we'll fill you up on prickly pear and cholla
So you'll be ready for the trail to Idaho

Or you'll be soup for Uncle Sam's Indians
It's beef, beef, beef I hear them cry
Git along, git along, git along you little dogies
For you'll be beef steers bye and bye

Whoopi ti yi yo, git along you little dogies
It's your misfortune and none of my own
Whoopi ti yi yo, git along you little dogies
For you know Wyoming will be your new home

THE COWBOY'S DREAM
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Fiddle
Vince Farsetta - Mandolin, Dulcimer
John Lomax III Night Sounds Field Recording

The song presents thoughts of a lonely rider settling in for what he hopes will be an uninterrupted rest. Eddy Arnold's recording is the best-known version of this superb sermon in song, included in COWBOY SONGS & OTHER FRONTIER BALLADS. 

Roger McGuinn says "Cowboy's Dream" began as a poem by cowpuncher O.J. O'Malley and was first published in the Stock Grower's Journal in the mid-1880s. I really wanted a chorus, so the Clement House Chorale came together to deliver the goods.

The Cowboy's Dream
Last night as I lay on the prairie
And looked up at the stars in the sky
I wondered if ever a cowboy
Would drift to that sweet by and by

Ah, the road to that bright happy region
Is a dim narrow trail so they say
But the broad one that leads to Perdition
Is posted and blazed all the way

(Chorus)
Roll on, roll on, roll on little dogies
roll on, roll on
Roll on, roll on, roll on little dogies
roll on

Well they say he will never forget you
That he knows every action and look
So for safety's sake better get branded
Get your name in his big Tally book

They say there will be a great roundup
When cowboys, like dogies will stand
To be CUT by the riders of Judgment
Who are posted and know every brand.

Ah, they tell of another great owner
Who's ne'er overstocked so they say
And he always makes room for the sinner
Who drifts from the dim, narrow way

Roll on, roll on, roll on little dogies,
roll on, roll on
Roll on, roll on, roll on little dogies,
roll on

THE STREETS OF LAREDO
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Ben "Jonesy" Jones - Fife
Matthew "Buster" Allen - Drum

Aka "The Cowboy's Lament" and "The Dying Cowboy," it's another sad western tale of a young cowboy's youthful demise, originating in the 19th Century in England as "The Unfortunate Rake." Bing Crosby, Harry James and Chet Atkins have recorded the song as does a whole crop of alt-rockers such as John Cale, Prefab Sprout, Snakefarm, Mercury Rev, Paul Westerberg and more. It's one of the most recorded western songs and merits a solid Wikipedia coverage. 

The Streets of Laredo
As I walked out on the streets of Laredo
As I walked out in Laredo One Day
I spied a cowpuncher all wrapped in white linen
All wrapped in white linen and cold as the clay

I see by your outfit that you are a cowboy
These words he did say as I boldly passed by
Come sit down beside me and hear my sad story
Shot in the breast and I know I must die

So bang the drum slowly and play the fife lowly
And sing the death march as you carry me along
Take me to the green valley and lay the sod o'er me
For I'm a young cowboy and I know I done wrong

It was once in the saddle I used to go dashing
Once in the saddle I rode so gay
First to the dram house and then to the card house
Shot in the breast and I'm dying today

Oh, bury me beside my knife and six shooter
My spurs on my heels, my rifle by my side
And on my coffin place a bottle of brandy
So the cowboys can drink as I take my last ride

So we banged the drum slowly and played the fife lowly
And bitterly wept as we carried him along
For we loved our comrade, so young, brave and strong.
We loved our comrade though we knew he'd done wrong.

So bang the drum slowly...

COTTON FIELDS
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar
Vince Farsetta - Mandolin, banjo

Since Lead Belly recorded this in 1940, it's been recorded by Johnny Cash, The Beach Boys, Creedence Clearwater Revival and many more. Lead Belly speeds it up towards the end. I fuse it with "Pick A Bale of Cotton" so I can present more songs in live performance.

Cotton Fields
When I was a little bitty baby
My momma would rock me in the cradle
In them old cotton fields back home
It was down in Louisiana
Just about a mile from Texarkana
In them old cotton fields back home

Oh, when them cotton balls get rotten
You couldn't pick very much cotton
In them old cotton fields back home

it may sound a little funny
But we never made very much money
In them old cotton fields back home

PICK A BALE OF COTTON
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar
Vince Farsetta - Mandolin, Banjo

A work song pre-dating the Civil War. The top field hands could pick 800 pounds of cotton in a day but a bale was around 1,500 pounds so no one could have ever accomplished this. I make up impromptu verses about local attendees when I do my shows and here, I give shout outs to my producer and the two key players. 

Pick a Bale of Cotton
Massa told the boys to pick a bale of cotton
Yeah, Massa told the boys to pick a bale a day

(Chorus)
O lawdy, Pick a Bale of Cotton an a 
O Lawdy, Pick a Bale a Day

Gonna jump down, turn around pick a bale a cotton
Gonna jump down and pick a bale a day
O lawdy, Pick a Bale of Cotton an a 
Oh Lawdy, Pick a bale a day

I believe to my soul I can pick a bale of cotton
I believe to my soul I can pick a bale a day
O lawdy, Pick a Bale of Cotton an a 
Oh Lawdy, Pick a bale a day

My wife and I can pick a bale of cotton
Me and my wife can pick a bale a day
O lawdy, Pick a Bale of Cotton an a 
Oh Lawdy, Pick a bale a day

Yeah, Producer Matt can pick a bale of cotton
Producer Matt can pick a bale a day
O lawdy, Pick a Bale of Cotton an a 
Oh Lawdy, Pick a bale a day

Mister Shawn Camp can Pick a Bale of Cotton
Shawn Camp can pick a bale a day
O lawdy, Pick a Bale of Cotton an a 
Oh Lawdy, Pick a bale a day

Richard Bennett can pick a bale of cotton
Yes, Richard can pick a bale a day
O lawdy, Pick a Bale of Cotton an a 
Oh Lawdy, Pick a bale a day

Jump down, turn around, pick a bale of cotton
Gonna jump down, turn around, pick a bale a day
Pick a bale, pick a bale, pick a bale of cotton
Pick a bale, pick a bale, pick a bale of cotton a day

SLOOP JOHN B.
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar
Vince Farsetta - Dulcimer

This Bahamian folk song Alan Lomax and Elizabeth Barinicle recorded The Cleveland Simmons Group singing on Cat Island in 1935 has been recorded by numerous artists including The Weavers, The Kingston Trio, Johnny Cash, Jerry Butler, Dick Dale and the Del-Tones and others before the Beach Boys' version became a huge pop smash in 1966. Here's a short list of just a few who have recorded it after that: Waylon Jennings, The Ventures, Jerry Jeff Walker, Dwight Yoakam, Simple Minds and of course, Me First and The Gimme Gimmes. Carl Sandburg included it in his classic 1927 work, THE AMERICAN SONGBAG. 

For a hearty laugh, have a look on YouTube at The Beach Boys' "official Promotional Video," not to be confused with the "official Video." And while you're on YouTube, have a look at The Cleveland Simmons Group's original recording of "Histe Up the John B.'s Sails." 

Sloop John B.
Oh we sailed on the Sloop John B,
my grandfather and me
'round Nassau harbor we did roam
Drinkin' all night, had a big fight
I feel so breakup I wanna go home

(Chorus)
So histe up the John B. sails
And see how the mainsail sets
Send for the Captain ashore, let me go home
Please let me go home, I want to go home
I feel so breakup I want to go home

Oh the first mate he got drunk
and he bust up the people's trunks
Constable had to come and take him away
Sherriff John Stone, please let me alone
I feel so breakup I want to go home

Well, de cook he got fits
and he threw out alla the grits
Then he went and ate up all of the corn
I wanna go home, please let me go home
This is the worst trip since I ever been born

So histe up the John B. sails
And see how the mainsail sets
Send for the Captain ashore, let me go home
Please let me go home, i want to go home
This is the worst trip that I've ever been on

M.T.A.
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar
Vince Farsetta - Dulcimer

When Bess Lomax Hawes and her friend Jacqueline Steiner wrote this song for an election in 1949, Bess had already begun her career with The Almanac Singers nearly ten years before. Later she became a guitar teacher, helping, among others, Ry Cooder to get started. She discovered and recorded The Georgia Sea Island Singers and wrote their story with their leader Bessie Jones. 

She was a college professor and for fifteen years ran the Folk Arts Grants program for the National Endowment of the Arts, dispensing worthy folk projects and all kinds. She helped establish the Annual Festival of American Folk Life and won the National Medal of Arts in 1993, becoming the second of John Avery Lomax's children to receive that prestigious honor, following Alan who won it in 1986. 

M.T.A.
{Spoken Introduction by Dave Guard of The Kingston Trio}

These are the times that try men's souls
In the course of our nation's history
The citizens of Boston have rallied bravely
Whenever the rights of man have been threatened

Today a new crisis has arisen
The Metropolitan Transit Authority, better known as the MTA
Is attempting to levy a burdensome tax on the people
In the form of a subway fare increase
Citizens, hear me out, this could happen to you!

Well, let me tell you of the story of a man named Charlie
On a tragic and fateful day
With ten cents in his pocket, Charlie kissed his wife and family
Went to ride on the MTA

And, did he ever return?
No, he never returned and his fate is still unlearned (What a pity)
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston
And he's the man who never returned

Charlie handed in his dime at the Kendall Square Station
With a change at Jamaica Plain
But when he got there the conductor told him, "One more nickel"
Charlie couldn't get off of that train! 

All night long, Charlie rides through the stations
Wondering, "What will become of me?
How can I afford to see my sister in Chelsea
Or my cousin in Roxbury?"

(Chorus)
Well, did he ever return?
No, he never returned, and his fate is still unlearned
(Poor Old Charlie)
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned

Charlie's wife goes down to the Scollay Square Station
Every day at quarter past two
And through the open window
She hands Charlie a sandwich
As the train goes rumbling through

(Chorus)
Well, did he ever return?No, he never returned, and his fate is still unlearned(Poor Old Charlie)He may ride forever 'neath the streets of BostonHe's the man who never returned

Now you citizens of Boston, don't you think it's a scandal
How the people have to pay and pay?
Fight the fare increase, vote for George O'Brien
Let's get Charlie off the M.T.A.

(Chorus)
Or else he'll never returnNo, he never returned, and his fate is still unlearned(Just like Paul Revere)He may ride forever 'neath the streets of BostonHe's the man who never returned
The man who never returned
The man who never returned

HOME ON THE RANGE
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Fiddle
Vincent Farsetta - Mandolin

Dr. Brewster's Higley's poem, "My Western Home" began in a small Kansas weekly, after his neighbor Daniel Kelley set it to music. When grandfather's book came and was the next time it saw print, it began a journey that has included recordings by Gene Autry, Burl Ives, Connie Francis, Roy Rogers, Tori Amos and others.

The three verses that I sing between the choruses are gorgeous and rarely heard.

Home on the Range
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

Oh give me a land where the bright diamond sand
Flows leisurely down in the stream
Where the graceful white swan goes gliding along
Like a maid in a heavenly dream

How often at night with the heavens are bright
With the light from the glistering stars
Have I laid there amazed and asked as I gazed
If their glory exceeds that of ours

Where the air is so pure and the zephyrs so free
The breezes so balmy and light
I would not exchange my home on the range
For all the cities so bright

(Chorus)
Home, home on the range
Where the deer and the antelope play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

FROGGIE WENT A COURTIN'
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar, Mandolin
Vince Farsetta - Jew's Harp

This tragic tale dates from 16th century Scotland and was first published in the US by John A. and Alan Lomax in 1934. I've trimmed their 35-verse version and have altered the lyrics in spots. Bruce Springsteen's abbreviated take can be found on his Seeger Sessions album. In live performances, I give him a hard time as he cut it to 9 verses and omits all the endings. Since my version has 18 verses AND all the endings, I tell the audience that "When you do the math it's clear that when it comes to this song, I'm twice as good as 'The Boss.'" Don't tell him though, he's from Jersey y'now. 

Froggie Went A Courtin'
Frog went a courtin' and he did ride unh, uhunh,
Frog went a courtin’ and he did ride unh, uhunh,Sword and a pistol by his side, unhuh, unhhhuh,

He rode right up to Miss Mousie’s doorHe rode right up to Miss Mousie’s doorKnocked three times, let out a roar

He marched right in, took her on his kneeHe marched right in, took her on his kneeSaid, Miss Mousie Will You Marry me

Not without my uncle rat’s consentNot without my uncle rat’s consentI wouldn’t marry the President

When Uncle Rat gave his consentWhen Uncle Rat gave his consent
The weasel wrote the publishment

Where shall the wedding supper beWhere shall the wedding supper beWay down yonder in a hollow tree

Yeah, first to come in was a flying mothFirst to come in was a flying mothHe laid out the tablecloth

Next come in was a little June bugThe next came was a little June bugBrought some whiskey in a jug

Next come in was a bumble beeNext come in was a bumble bbeeDancin’ a jig with a two-legged flea

Next come in was a spotted cowNext come in was a spotted cowTried to dance but didn’t know how

Well, next come in was a little white snakenext come in was a little white snakeCoiled himself around the wedding cake

(NOW IT GETS WEIRD)Net come in was a yaller dogNext come in was a yaller dogChased Miss Mousie into a hollow log

Next come in was an old tom catNext come in was an old tom Cat
Ate Miss Mousie just like that

Froggie, he went back to the lakeFroggie. he went back to the lakeHe got swallowed by a big black snake

Big black snake crawled out on landBig black snake crawled oout on landHe was killed by a Nobleman

Nobleman went off to FranceNobleman went off to FranceAnd that’s the end of my romance

That’s my story one two threeThat’s my story one two threeThe Snake, The Frog and Miss Mousie

There’s my guitar on the shelfThere’s my guitar on the shelfWant any more gotta sing it yourself

LONG JOHN
Richard Bennett - Acoustic guitar
Shawn Camp - Acoustic guitar

Inmate Clear Rock sang a version of this folk hero tale as did "Lightnin'" Washington, as related in FOLK SONGS OF NORTH AMERICA; "I can outrun all of the horses or dogs on this farm any time I gets a notion to leave and I'm getting in the notion now." Six months later when the Lomaxes returned, a fellow inmate told them, "Lightnin' walked off and left them dogs standin," just like ol' Long John." John Green, long may you run! 

Long John
With my diamond blade
Right in my hand
Gonna hew down the oaks
From outta this land

Well if I hadda listened
To my Rosie said
I'da be in my Rosie's bed

But I didn't listen
Got to running around
And the first thing ya' know
I'm jailhouse bound

Well, I got in jail
With my mouth poked out
Now I'm in the pen
And I can't get out

I'm Long John
I'm long gone
Like a turkey through the corn
With my long clothes on
I'm gone John
I'm long gone
I'm gone John

***Spoken word about the offer
Long John Green was a prisoner in a small town Texas jail outside Corpus Christi. One day the Sheriff came up to him and said, "Long John, I hear tell you're a fast runner. Is that true?" Long John said "Well, that's what they tell me, Boss." Then the Sheriff said, "I got me a new set of hound dogs and they are top-notch dogs, paid a lot of money for them. But they need a field trial so what I'm thinkin' is we give you a head start, then we'll turn the dogs loose. If you get away, you're a free man. But these dogs will have you back in thirty minutes, they are Blue-ribbon dogs. So what do you say?" 

Well, listen here honey
you get away
And open that door
I hear the hounds a'coming
And I got to go

Well, goodbye Captain
And my sergeant too
I'm a crossin' that Brazos
In the early dew

Well, John, he made me a pair of shoes
The funniest shoes that ever was a seen
Had a heel in front there and a heel behind
So you couldn't tell where That boy was a gwine

Well I rose up
When they opened that door
And the next thing you know
I'm in Baltimore

I'm Long John
I'm long gone
Like a turkey through the corn
With my long clothes on
I'm Long John
I'm long gone
I'm gone, gone
I'm gone

american folk songs expanded liner notes

about the record

continuing the lomax legacy