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GUNSMOKE, WHISKY & HEATHER |
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GUNSMOKE, WHISKY & HEATHER |
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on Song Titles for More Information And on Bullets for Audio Samples |
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Gunsmoke, Whisky & Heather
(David Wilkie, Ghostwriters in Disguise, SOCAN, and Katy Moffatt, Red Moon Music, BMI) The buffalo has long been an important symbol of the west, in both a practical and a spiritual sense. Many decades ago, someone tried to introduce buffalo to a rugged island in the east, and they shipped a trainload of the great beasts to Brunette Island off the south coast of Newfoundland. The project was abandoned and the herd was left to fend for themselves. Accustomed to running free on the western expanses, the buffalo had a hard time adjusting to the rocky landscape, and one by one they fell off the cliffs that line most of the island shoreline. One buffalo was purported to have survived, and a scientific team was sent to investigate. They found the lone survivor, but not long after, he too became a victim of the island cliffs. David Wilkie: lead vocal, guitar, tenor guitar, bass Denise Withnell: harmony vocal Keri Zwicker: harmony vocal, harp Joseph Hertz fiddle Tami Cooper: flute
(David Wilkie, Ghostwriters in Disguise, SOCAN, and Katy Moffatt, Red Moon Music, SOCAN) Katy Moffatt and I wrote this outlaw ballad several years ago, and Cowboy Celtic has revisited it for this CD. Keri’s beautiful harp introduction sets the Spanish Old West mood. Denise Withnell: lead vocal, guitar
David Wilkie: harmony vocal,
guitar, tenor guitar, mandolin, mandocello, Keri Zwicker: harmony vocal, harp Joe Hertz: fiddles Tami Cooper harmony vocal, flute
(C. Prentis Forrester) The Girls of the Golden West, one of the great cowgirl bands from the 1930s, recorded this song in 1935. The Cowboy Celtic gals have had a lot of fun with this one, and tackle the yodel for the first time. Don’t worry, we’ll try not to let it happen again! Denise Withnell: lead vocal Keri Zwicker: harmony vocals, harp Tami Cooper harmony vocals, flute Joseph Hertz: fiddles David Wilkie: tenor guitar, mandolin, bass
(Traditional / John Wort Hannam, SOCAN / Traditional) The offer of free or inexpensive land in the sparsely populated North American West drew countless immigrants from Scotland, Ireland, England, Wales and all over Europe. Many of them landed in Halifax harbour on Pier 21, which is now a national historic site. Pier 21 was written by John Wort Hannam, one of Southern Alberta’s best song writers. It is a moving song about a son saying goodbye to his father as he leaves with hope for a better life across the waves. We liked the sound of Ken’s Scottish smallpipes so much that we tacked a short tune on the front and back of the song. David Wilkie: lead vocal, guitar, tenor guitar, bass Keri Zwicker: harmony vocal, harp Denise Withnell: harmony vocal Joe Hertz: fiddle Tami Cooper: flute Graham Tait: accordion Ken Martin: Scottish smallpipes
(Words by Captain Jack Crawford, Music by Ernest Stoneman, Public Domain) The story of Wild Bill Hickok is one of the west’s greatest tragedies. The feared gunfighter and professional gambler took on the job of town Marshal in Abilene, Kansas in 1871. He was a heavy drinker and they said he ran the town from a card table in the Long Branch Saloon. After a questionable gunfight, his contract with the town was not renewed. He drifted about, finally taking a job touring the east in Buffalo Bill Cody’s production Scouts of the Plains. Wild Bill was not good at this kind of work, and his drinking caused Buffalo Bill to let him go. Ironically, it was Wild Bill, a long-time friend of the Cody family, who probably had the greatest influence on Buffalo Bill. As an impressionable young boy, Cody had looked up to Wild Bill as an older brother, and is said to have patterned himself after him. After wandering, drinking and gambling some more, Wild Bill settled in Deadwood, a Dakota mining town. It was there on an August afternoon, while he was playing poker at Saloon No. 10, that Jack McCall put a bullet in the back of Wild Bill’s head. It’s said that when he died, he was holding a pair of aces and a pair of eights – now known as the dead man’s hand. Frank Jennings’ Pilot Mountaineers popularized this song, which is said to have been taken from a newspaper account. We learned this version from a Norman Blake recording. Keri Zwicker: lead vocal, harp Tami Cooper: harmony vocal, flute Denise Withnell: harmony vocal Joseph Hertz: fiddle
(Dan Crook and J. Trathen, Western Trail Music, BMI) During the American Civil War, thousands of young men left their ranches and families to join the battle. This is the story of a rebel soldier and his horse, Black Diamond, returning home after four years at war. We learned this song from Katy Moffatt’s recording, Cowboy Girl. Denise Withnell: lead vocal, guitar David Wilkie: harmony vocal, bass, mandolin, tenor guitar Keri Zwicker: harmony vocal, harp Joe Hertz: fiddle Tami Cooper flute
(David Wilkie, Ghostwriters in Disguise, SOCAN) My grandfather was from a family of 13 children, and immigrated to San Francisco at the turn of the 20th century. With very little in his pockets and a true pioneer spirit, he ended up running a dairy operation until the great San Francisco fire and earthquake completely destroyed the city in April 1906. He and those like him gathered up their shattered dreams and started to rebuild. Granddad opened up a hotel and saloon where the San Francisco Chronicle is today. I remember growing up with earthquakes and sitting in the yard with my brother Don when a quake shook the fruit from the trees. Although I now live in Western Canada, I have earthquake in my bones. I wrote this in honour of my grandfather and in memory of my brother. David Wilkie: lead vocal, guitar, tenor guitar, mandolin, mandola, mandocello, bass Denise Withnell: harmony vocal Keri Zwicker: harp Joseph Hertz fiddle Tami Cooper harmony vocal, flute
(John Watt, Neon Music) Buffalo Bill Cody first went to England in 1887 for Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. Billed as Buffalo Bill’s Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World, he would make three more trips across the waves to England, Scotland and Wales. Imagine cowboys and Indians running wild in the old sod. Cody also brought the original Deadwood Stage for the show, and kings and queens of Europe took great delight in riding in the stage while it was being ‘attacked by Indians.’ In his farewell tour, he showed up in Dunfermline, Fife, in Scotland on August 16, 1904. That is where Gordon Watt and 8,000 others experienced the Wild West for themselves. Years later, Watt’s son John wrote this song based on his father’s stories. We worked up the arrangement for this song in a room at Buffalo Bill’s Irma Hotel in Cody, Wyoming, while attending the Buffalo Bill Historical Center’s annual Cowboy Songs and Range Ballads event. Thanks to Buffalo Bill’s Chorus of Wild West Wailers (Joseph Hertz, Rob Smith, Graham Tait and David Wilkie) for the vocals.
Denise Withnell: lead vocal, guitar David Wilkie: bass, tenor banjo, vocal Keri Zwicker: harp Joe Hertz: fiddle, vocal Tami Cooper flute Graham Tait: accordion, vocal Rob Smith: vocal
(Andy Thorburn, MCPS/PRS / Traditional / Traditional) Highland composer and arranger Andy Thorburn wrote the beautiful tune that begins this set. And what better Cowboy Celtic connection could there be but The Cowboy Jig? We learned this traditional tune from a recording by Scottish fiddle master Alasdair Fraser. While recording in Ireland a few years back, we met banjo player Kieran Hanrahan at a ceili in the Murphy Brewery in Cork. He had a weekly radio show that broadcasted sessions from a different pub every week. We got this reel from one of his recordings. Keri Zwicker: harp Joe Hertz: fiddle Tami Cooper: flute David Wilkie: tenor guitar, mandocello, bass Denise Withnell: guitar Nathan McCavana: bodhran
(David Wilkie, Ghostwriters in Disguise, SOCAN) A waltz always fills up the dance floor at a cowboy get together. If you’re a musician in the band, you see it all from the stage – hearts won, love lost, fist fights and the list goes on. This song is based on a true story experienced by a former band mate. He watched helplessly from the band stand as the woman he loved danced with another man and then left with him. Bummer for him, good for me, because I got to write a song about it. I wrote this song in the spirit of my favourite band, The Louvin Brothers. This one’s for Charlie.
David Wilkie: lead vocal, guitar, tenor guitar, mandolin, bass Denise Withnell: harmony vocals Keri Zwicker: harp Joe Hertz: fiddles
(Traditional) This is one of our favourite Scottish folk songs about a man who helps a beautiful young lady find her way to Dundee. Although quite taken by her, he politely resists asking her any questions, and is left to ever wonder who she was. Songs and stories of the roads of Scotland have been a Cowboy Celtic mainstay over the years. Denise Withnell: lead vocal, harmony vocal Keri Zwicker: harmony vocal, harp Joseph Hertz fiddle Tami Cooper flute David Wilkie: bass
Liner notes by David Wilkie. Produced by David Wilkie. Recorded and mixed at Rocky Mountain Recording Studio, Calgary, Alberta, Canada. Sound engineering by Rob Smith. Mastered by Richard Harrow at Canada Disc & Tape Inc., Calgary, Alberta Group photo on back cover by John Dean Photography, Calgary, Alberta. Snapshots by David Wilkie, Denise Withnell and Rob Smith. Artwork design by Michael Dangelmaier at Karo, Calgary, Alberta Cover photo of Buffalo Bill was a publicity postcard that was mass-produced and offered for sale at the Wild West showgrounds. Queen Victoria requested a similar photograph following the second of two command performances in the late 1800s. Source: Buffalo Bill’s British Wild West, by Alan Gallop. Published by Sutton Publishing Limited, England.
For information
contact: Cowboy Celticâ is a trademark of David Wilkie. © P 2001 Centerfire Music (Michael, please put circle around P, as with ©)
Saltwater Buffalo David Wilkie, Katy Moffatt Buffalo on a long old train Goodbye to life on the Western plain A crazy white man experiment Pointed them east and away they went Herd rough rollin' on the rail Some just died on the iron trail Maybe they were the lucky few Spared from the fate of that kidnapped crew Off to an island they did go To be Saltwater Buffalo
Time wasn't kind soon no one cared Folks forgot why they brought them there Cliffs of stone under prairie feet A slippery slide to their end they'd meet Like ancestors from long ago Off of the rocks to their death below One by one they all would fall Off of the face of the rocky wall Island life slowly took its toll On the Saltwater Buffalo
Mixed with the fog on the rocky coast Sailors reported a lonesome ghost Gazing down at the sea below The king of the range from long ago Robbed of his days running on the plain None of his herd from the West remain They found him down among the stones A washed up pile of old bleached bones When it ended no one could know The Saltwater Buffalo
If there's a moral to this song Don't make a home where it don't belong Wish I could right what went so wrong And see him standing tall and strong I'd take him back where the West winds blow The Saltwater Buffalo.
Magdalena and the Jack of Spades David Wilkie and Katy Moffatt Magdalena had no dolls, with a deck of cards she’d play She’d spread the floor with hearts and kings at her favourite time of day Her little face glowed like a pearl when she turned the Jack of Spades.
Little Jack played by himself in a lonely rustlers cave Threw rocks, lied and stole ‘til his mother’s heart he’d break And all the girls said you don’t go near that bad boy, the Jack of Spades.
Somewhere sun is shinin’ and tender promises are made. Somewhere someone’s cryin’ for the Jack of Spades.
When she turned fifteen she ran the store where no one ever came When the boy burst through the door she knew him right away She was breathless, and a prisoner of the desperate Jack of Spades.
He held the gun upon her as he made his getaway She was on the black horse and he was on the bay He killed a man yet she was not afraid of the Jack of Spades.
Somewhere sun is shinin’ and tender promises are made. Somewhere someone’s cryin’ for the Jack of Spades.
The posse tracked them through the night, to the rustlers cave Their rifles spit a bullet rain upon the barricade And Magdalena she took two meant for the Jack of Spades.
Like the morning star that disappears behind the canyon face She’ll watch his tracks in the sand, dissolve without a trace Sweet Magdalena’s final hand dealt by the Jack of Spades.
Somewhere sun is shinin’, and tender promises are made. Somewhere someone’s dyin’ for the Jack of Spades Somewhere someone’s dyin’ for the Jack of Spades.
The Burial of Wild Bill Words by Captain Jack Crawford, Music by Ernest Stoneman Under the sod in the land of gold We laid the fearless Bill. We called him wild, yet a little child Could bend his iron will.
With a generous heart he freely gave To the poorly clad and unshone The quality of his noble grace We covered him with a song.
Under the sod in the Deadwood Gulch We laid his last remains. No more his manly form will hail The Red man on the plains.
And many a heartfelt sigh was heard As over the course we trod And many an eye was filled with tears As we covered him with the sod.
We buried him ‘neath the old pine tree In that little world of ours. His trusty rifle by his side His grave all strewn with flowers.
His manly form and sweet repose That lovely silken hair It was a sight we’ll not forget That face so bright and fair.
Under the sod in the prairie land We laid the good and true An honest heart and a noble man Has bade his last adieu.
No more his silvery voice will ring His spirit is gone to God Around this spot let charity spring While we cover him with the sod.
Earthquake in My Bones David Wilkie There was many a young man with just his grip in his hand That found safe harbour in this bay Building up this city, or at least they thought they were Until the hellfire took it all away
Then granddad, he opened up a small saloon On Fifth just south of the Slot Built upon the ash and the smoke and the ruins From the hell of a jolt that they got
But they didn’t give up and they didn’t move on When all their dreams were shaken or gone
Tempered by the fire and the tumbling stones I was born with earthquake in my bones
‘Cross the trestle on the creek through the hobo camp Train whistle crept into my bed And I still couldn’t get across the street yet on my own But it left something lonesome in my head
Eucalyptus mornings turned to orchard afternoon Blackbirds divin’ from on high Our army on reconnaissance avoiding aeroplanes Running from the shadows in the sky
We were sittin ‘neath the trees there in my granddad’s yard When we felt the thunder in the ground And it scattered fruit around us and the silence set us free We just laid there and never made a sound But we got back up and we dusted it away Let the ground open up and the buildings sway
Tempered by the fire and the tumbling stones I was born with earthquake in my bones
Now the icy green curtains melt into the frozen sky And the wolves are howling for their own There’s a fault line that still rumbles, and trembles in my soul Even though I’m a thousand miles from home And even though I left to roam My bloodlines cross through the seismic zone
Tempered by the fire and the tumbling stones I was born with earthquake in my bones
And I can’t let go and I won’t give in when the atmosphere starts getting thin
Tempered by the fire and the tumbling stones I was born with earthquake in my bones
The Day that Billy Cody Played the Auld Grey Toon John Watt There were brown skins, red skins, yellow skins and white Russians and Prussians and sticks of dynamite Geordie Custer got his duster, he never saw the morn The painted life giv’d him the knife and stuffed him at the Horn.
Texas Jack, loads of craic, plenty jugs of booze Wagon wheels, Scots reels, Indian papoose Cowboy boots, fancy suits, beaver and racoon The day that Billy Cody played the Auld Grey Toon.
Cyclist Carter got a starter, he just came for the ride The Deadwood stage was all the rage, with royalty inside The King o’ Sweden wasn’t heedin’, hanging by a thread And Sitting Bull he had no pull because that he was dead.
Knife throwers, cotton growers, wheen of whips to crack Buffaloes, Crooked Nose, including Texas Jack Cuban heels, Zulu Chiels, stampin’ up and doon The day that Billy Cody played the Auld Grey Toon.
There were Shawnees, Pawnees, bandy knees and hairy knees Paiutes from the buttes and Billy Hickok please Has No Horse, yes of course, Annie Oakley too Arapahos in fancy clothes and don’t forget the Sioux.
Cheyenne, Mary Anne, even sans fairy ann Trumpets and coronets and every kind of band Prairie dogs, savage mogs, howlin’ at the moon The day that Billy Cody played the Auld Grey Toon.
Billy pack it up, jack it up, moved down to the coast Paraded up in Keltie where they thought he was the most A refuge from Wounded Knee, they cried him Spotted Sloth No pipe of peace or rammy cease when spotted in the Goth.
Firewater, watch your daughter, give me the papoose Arrows fly, Injuns die when Cody’s on the loose Dreams true, here’s the Sioux, all reached for the moon, The day that Billy Cody played the Auld Grey Toon.
Notes and definitions are mostly from the liner notes of John Watt’s CD, Heroes and from the gracious John Watt himself.
The Miles and the Road to Dundee
Cauld winter was
howlin’ o’er moor and o’er mountain
Said he, “My young
lassie, I canna’ weel tell ye
At once she
consented and gave him her arm,
At length wi’ the
Howe o’ Strathmartine behind them
He took the gold
pin from the scarf on his bosom
He said, “Here's to
the lassie, I ne’er can forget her,
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