The Blessing(Oidhche Mhath Leibh)RefrainSoiridh leibh 'us oidhche mhath leibhOidhche mhath leibh, beannachd leibhGuidheam slàinte ghnàth bhi mar ruibhOidhche mhath leibh, beannachd leibhMathair uisge 'n tobair fhìoruisg'Cainnt ar sinnsir brigh na loinn;'S faochadh tlàth o ànradh m'inntinn,'Nuiar bheir rann na glinn a'm chuimhn'Astar cuain cha dean ar sgaradh'S dùrachd daimh am bannaibh toinnt'Gleidgh an t-àgh na dh'fhàg a bheannachdOidhche mhath leibh, beannachd leibhThuit ar crann air saoghal carach'S coma sud, tha 'mhaitheas leinnBidh sinn beò an dòchas ra-mhathOidhche mhath leibh, beannachd leibhTranslation from Scots Gaelic to English Farewell to you and goodnight to youGoodnight to you, and blessings go with youWishing that good health be yours alwaysGoodnight to you, and blessings go with youThe goodness of water drawn from the well of pure waterThat is the language of our ancestors, the essence of our joyA gentle soothing of the mind's distressWhen a verse reminds me of the glensThe width of an ocean will not separate usAnd our good wishes will go to thoseWho are connected to us with enduring tiesKeep in good fortune those who've made their farewellsGoodnight to you and blessings go with youOur lot has fallen in a deceiving worldBut in spite of that, virtue will be with usWe will live in constant hopeGoodnight to you and blessings go with youWords and Music: John McFayden (ca. 1897)From the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover 

Sweet Betsy from PikeHave you heard tell of sweet Betsy from PikeShe cross the wide prairie with her lover, IkeWith two yoke of Oxen, a big yellow dog,A tall Shanghai rooster and one spotted hogOne evening quite early they camped on the Platte'Twas nearby the road on a green, shady flatBetsy, sore-footed, lay down to reposeIn wonder Ike gazed on his Pike County roseThe Indians came down in a wild yelling hordeAnd Betsy got scared they would scalp her adoredUnder the wagon wheel Betsy did crawlShe fought off them Indians with musket and ballOut on the prairie one bright starry nightThey broke out the whiskey and Betsy got tightShe sang and she shouted, she danced on the plain.She made a great show for that whole wagon trainThe Shanghai ran off and the cattle all diedThe last piece of bacon that morning was friedIke got discouraged and Betsy got madeThe dog wagged his tail and looked wondrously sadThey soon reached the desert where Betsy gave outAnd down in the sand she lay rolling aboutIke in great terror looked on in surpriseSaying, Betsy get up, you'll get sand in your eyesSweet Betsy got up in a great deal of painDeclared she'd go back to Pike County againIke, he just sighed, and they fondly embracedAnd she traveled along with her arm round his waistThis bittersweet comic song, first popular in the American gold rush era of 1849-59, describes the hardships and frustrations experienced by pioneer women as they moved west with their families along the immigrant roads. The melody is derived from the old English dance hlal song, "Villikens and His Dinah."From the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover

I am Going to the WestIn this fair land, I'll stay no moreHere labor is in vainI'll seek the mountains far awayAnd leave the fertile plainWhere waves of grass in oceans rollInto infinityI stand ready on the shoreTo cross the inland seaI am going to the WestChorusYou say you will not go with meYou turn your eyes awayYou say you will not follow meNo matter what I sayI am going to the WestI am going to the WestI will journey to the placeThat was shaped by heaven's handAnd I will build for me a bowerWhere angels' footprints mark the landWhere castle rocks in towers highKneel to valleys wild and greenAll my thoughts are turned to you,My waking hope, my sleeping dreamI am going to the WestAnd when sun gives way to moonAnd silver starlight fills the skyIn the arms of these last hillsIs where I'm bound to lieWind, my blanket, earth, my bedMy canopy, a treeWillows by the river's edgeWill whisper me to sleepI am going to the WestWords & Music: Connie Dover1st verse and chorus adapted from traditional Alabama folk songFrom the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie

The Streets of LaredoMedley with "The Sailor Cut Down in His Prime"The Sailor Cut Down in His PrimeAs I walked out by St. James HospitalCold was the morning and wet was the dayWho should I spy but a handsome young sailorAll wrapped up in flannel and colder than clayHis poor old father and his dear old motherOft times did warn of the gay city lifeBut along with those flash girls his money he squanderedAnd along with those flash girls he took his delightThen beat the drum over him, play the fife merrilySound the dead march as you carry him onTake him to the churchyard and throw the earth over himFor he's a young sailor cut down in his primeThe Streets of LaredoAs I walked out in the Streets of LaredoAs I walked out in Laredo one dayI spied a young cowboy all dressed in white linenAll dressed in white linen and cold as the clayI see by your outfit that you are a cowboyThese words he did say as I boldly passed byCome sit down beside me and hear my sad storyFor I'm shot in the breast and I know I must dieChorus:So Beat the drum slowly and play the fife lowlyPlay the dead march as you carry me alongTake me to the green valley and lay the sod o'er meFor I'm a young cowboy and I know I've done wrongIt was once in the saddle I used to go dashingOnce in the saddle I galloped awayIt was first to the alehouse and then to the card houseI'm shot in the breast and am dying today.This American Cowboy song of Irish origin has had many incarnations, and its first known publication was in Cork, Ireland in 1790. This rendition of the song combines the Irish ballad with its cowboy counterpart.From the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover

Lord FranklinIt was homeward bound one night on the deepSwinging in my hammock I fell asleepI dreamt a dream and I thought it trueConcerning Franklin and his gallant crewAs I was wandering on some foreign shoreI heard a lady and she did deploreShe wept aloud and to me did sayOh, my loving husband, he's so long awayWith a hundred seamen he sailed awayTo the frozen ocean in the month of MayTo seek a passage around the poleWhere these poor sailors do sometimes goThey sailed West and they sailed EastTheir ship on oceans of ice did freezeOnly the Eskimo in his skin canoeWas the only one that ever came throughIn Baffin Bay where the whale fishes blowThe fate of Franklin no man may knowThe fate of Franklin no tongue can tellFranklin alone with his sailors do dwellAnd now my burden it gives me painFor my long lost Franklin I would cross the mainTen thousand pounds would I freely giveTo say on earth that my Franklin does liveTo say on earth that my Franklin does liveIn 1845, Sir John Franklin and his crew of 133 men set sail from England for the Arctic region of northern Canada. In search of the elusive Northwest Passage between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, all hands eventually perished after their ships became trapped in ice. "The fate of Franklin and his gallant crew" was a mystery that has slowly been unraveled over the last 150 years, pieced together by a trail of artifacts, contemporary accounts by native Inuit people and the diligent efforts of generations of researchers and explorers dedicated to discovering the truth behind the legend.From the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover

An Spailpín Fánach(The Wandering Laborer)Go deo deo arís ní rachad go CaisealAg díol nó reic mo shláinte,No ar mhargadh ne saoire I mo shuí cois ballaI mo scaoinse ar leataobh sráide.Bodairí na tíre ag teacht ar a gcapaillAg fiafraigh an bhuilim híreálta.Ó téanaim chun siúil, tá an cúrsa fada,Seo are siúl an Spailpín Fánach.I mo Spailpiín Fanach fágadh miseAg seasamh ar mo shláinte.Ag siúl an drúchta go moch ar maidinIs ag bailiú galair ráithe.Ní fheicfear corrán I mo láimh chun bainteSúiste nó feac beag ramhainneAch colours na bhFrancach os cionn mo leapanAgus pike agam chun sáiteMó chúig chéad slán chun duthaighe m'atharIs dhun an Oileáin gradhmhair.'S chun buachailli na Cúlach ós díobh nár mhisdeI n-aimsir chasta an ghárdaAch anois ó taimse im chadhain bhocht dealbhI measc na nduthaigh bhfán soSé mo chumha croidhe mar fuair mé an ghairmBheith riamh im Spailpín FánachIs ró-bhreá is cuimhin liom mo dhaoine bheith sealadhThiar ag droichead CháileFé bhuaibh, fé chaoririgh, fé laoigh beaga ghealaAgus capaill ann le h-áireamhAch b'é toil Chroist é gur cuireadh sinn asta'S no ndeaghmhar i leith ár sláinte'S gurbh é bhris mo chroí I ngach tír da rachainn"Call here, you spailpín fánach"Translation from Irish Gaelic to English:I will never go again to CaishelSelling or bartering myself in hireOr selling my freedom, sitting by the wallLounging by the side of the road.Rude, boorish men from all over the country, coming on their horsesAsking if I am for hireOh, come let us go, the journey is longThe journey of the wandering laborerI will quit this itinerant laboringHiring myself outWalking over night to early morningWeary of endless journeyingI would not see a sickle in my hand for reapingA flail for threshing nor a small spade handleBut rather, the colors of the French flying over my headAnd a pike in my hand to thrust forthFive hundred farewells to the town of my fatherAnd to my beloved islandAnd to the boys of Luach, sure there was no harm in themDuring the times we tangled with the GardaBut now, since I am in my poor destitute cellIn the midst of my own native land, outcastMy heart is full of woe, that I ever go the callingTo be a wandering laborerIt's well I remember when my parents were hewingOver at Gaile bridgeWith oxen, with sheep with bright young calvesAnd horses to take care ofBut it was the will of Christ that it was taken from usAnd we were put out for hireAnd it would break my heart, every where I would go, to hear"Call here, you spailpín fánach""An Spailpín Fánach" is an early Irish version of a song that became one of America's most widely known folk tunes. Known originally as "The Bard of Armagh," the melody migrated westward, evolving eventually into a popular song, "The Girl I Left Behind Me."From the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover

Last Night by the RiverNeither wind nor birdThat was my voice you heardLast night by the riverIn the wind that stirred the grassAnd whispered when you passedThat was my voice you heardNeither wind nor birdThat was my heart you heardLast night by the RiverMaking thunder through the land,Shaking earth where you did standThat was my heart you heardNeither wind nor birdThat was my blood you heardLast night by the riverPouring into your heart's lakeRunning redder for your sakeThat was my blood you heardIn the moonlight through the pinesIn the deepest part of nightMy heart called your nameLast night by the riverMusic by Connie DoverLyrics by Connie Dover, inspired by the traditional Shoshone love poem, "Neither Spirit nor Bird."From the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover

The Water Is WideThe water is wide, I cannot cross o'erAnd neither have I wings to flyGive me a boat that will carry two,And both shall row, my love and II leaned my back against an oak,Thinking it was a mighty tree,But first it bent, and then it brokeJust as my love proved false to meThere is a ship that sails the seaIt's loaded deep, as deep can beBut not so deep as the love I'm inI know not if I sink or swimOh, love is handsome, love is kindLove is a jewel when it is newBut when it's old, it grows so coldAnd fades away like morning dewAn American folk song derived from the traditional Scots ballad, "The Douglas Tragedy."From the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover

Wondrous LoveWhat wondrous love is this, oh my soul, oh my soulWhat wondrous love is this, oh my soulWhat wondrous love is this, that caused the Lord of BlissTo send such perfect peace to my soul, to my soulTo send such perfect peace to my soulYe winged angels fly, bear the news, bear the news,Ye winged angels fly, bear the newsYe winged angels fly, like comets through the skyWith loud and joyful cry, bear the news, bear the newsWith loud and joyful cry, bear the newsTo God and to the Lamb I will sing, I will singTo God and to the Lamb I will singTo God and to the Lamb, Jehovah, great I AMAnd to the Son of man I will sing, I will singAnd to the Son of man I will singWhen we're from sorrow free, we'll sing on, we'll sing onWhen we're from sorrow free, we'll sing onWhen we're from sorrow free, we'll rise and joyful beAnd through Eternity, we'll sing on, we'll sing onAnd through eternity, we'll sing onFrom the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie Dover19th Century American shape note hymn

Winter's NightAs I rode out last winter's nightA drinkin' of sweet wineConversin' with that pretty little girlThat stole this heart of mineWho will shoe your pretty little footWho will glove your handWho will kiss your ruby red lipsWho will be your manWho will be your man, my loveWho will be your manWho will kiss your ruby red lipsAnd who will be your manMama will shoe my pretty little footPapa will glove my handYou never will kiss my ruby red lipsAnd I don't need no manI don't need no man, my loveI don't need no manYou never will kiss my ruby red lipsAnd I don't need no manThe longest train that ever I sawWas a hundred wagons longThe only girl I ever did loveIs with that train and goneWith that train and gone, my loveWith that train and goneThe only girl I ever did loveIs on that train and goneI wish to the Lord I'd never been bornOr roamed when I was youngI'd never have seen her rosy cheeksNor heard her lyin' tongueHeard her lyin' tongue, my loveHeard her lying tongueI'd never have seen her rosy red cheeksNor heard her lyin' tongueFrom the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie DoverMany verses of this American folk song are common in ballads throughout the Southern United States, and also appear in the tragic Scottish ballad, "The Lass of Loch Royal."

My Dearest DearMy dearest dear, the time is near when I and you must partAnd no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heartAnd what I suffer for your sake, for the one I love so dearI wish that I could go with you or you could tarry hereI wish my heart were made of glass, that in it I might beholdYour name in secret I would write in letters of bright goldYour name in secret I would write, pray believe me when I sayYou are the one that I love best until my dying dayMo gra thu, A stoirin(Irish Galiec: "I love you, my Darling")And when you're on some distant shore think on your absent friendAnd when the wind blows high and clear, a line or two pray sendAnd when the wind blows high and clear, pray send it love to meThat I may know by your hand-write how times have gone with theeMy dearest dear, the time is near when I and you must partAnd no one knows the inner grief of my poor aching heartAnd what I suffer for your sake, for the one I love so dearI wish that I could go with you or you could tarry hereFrom the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie DoverEnglish Folk Song from Southern Appalachia

Brother GreenOh Brother Green, please come to meFor I am shot and bleedingDear brother, stay, and put me awayAnd write my love a letterTell her I know she's prayed for meAnd now her prayers are answeredThat I might be prepared to dieIf I should fall in battleThe Northern foe has laid me lowOn this cold ground to sufferAnd now to heaven I will flyTo see my dear old motherGo tell my love she must not grieveGo kiss my little sistersFor they will call their brother in vainWhen he is up in heavenI have one brother in this wide worldHe's fighting for the UnionBut oh, dear love, I've lost my lifeAnd I shall die a SouthernMy darlin' girl, I love her wellOh could I once more see herThat I might give a sweet farewellAnd meet again in heavenFrom the CD, The Border of Heaven, by Connie Dover © Taylor Park Music/Connie DoverOne of the sources for my adaptation of this American Civil War song comes from the singing of Mrs. Emma Dusenberry, of Mena, Arkansas, as printed in Ozark Folksongs, edited by Vance Randolph. Versions also exist in Tennessee, Illinois and Missouri. The melody is derived from "Barbry Ellen," an American variant of the well-known Scottish ballad, "Barbara Allen."

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