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Joan Baez
Joan Baez


Информация
Настоящее имя Joan Chandos Baez
Дата рождения 9 января 1941 г.
Откуда Staten Island, New York City, New York United States
Жанры Folk
Folk-Rock
Годы 1958—н.в.
Лейблы Virgin Records
Columbia Records
Vanguard Records
A&M Records
E1 Music
См. также Indigo Girls
Mary Chapin Carpenter
Bob Dylan
Grateful Dead
Steve Earle
Jackson Browne
Judy Collins
Donovan
Mimi Fariña
Janis Ian
Odetta
Pete Seeger
Paul Simon
Rocker T
Dar Williams
Сайт Website



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Альбом Joan Baez


Joan Baez/5 (1964)
1964
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Show me the prison
show me the jail
show me the prisoner whose life has gone stale
and I'll show you, young man,
with so many reasons why,
there but for fortune go you or I.

show me the alley
show me the train
show me the hobo who sleeps out in the rain
and I'll show you, young man,
with so many reasons why
there but for fortune go you or I.

show me the whiskey stains on the floor
show me the drunkard as he stumbles out the door
and I'll show you, young man,
with so many reasons why,
there but for fortune go you or I.

Show me the country where the bombs had to fall
show me the ruins of the buildings, once so tall
and I'll show you young man
with so many reasons why,
there but for fortune go you and I,
you and I.

. . .


Stewball was a good horse, he wore his head high,and the mane on his foretop, was fine as silk thread.I rode him in England, I rode him in Spain,and I never did lose, boys, I always did gain.So come all you gamblers, wherever you are,and don't bet your money on that little grey mare.Most likely she'll stumble, most likely she'll fall,but never you'll lose, boys, on my noble Stewball.As they were a-riding, 'bout halfway round,that grey mare she stumbled, and fell on the ground.And way out yonder, ahead of them all,came a-prancing and a-dancing, my noble Stewball.Stewball was a race horse, and by the day he was mine,he never drank water, he always drank wine.

(Joan Baez)

. . .


Go away from my window, leave at your own chosen speed.I'm not the one you want, babe, I'm not the one you need.You say you're looking for someone, never weak but always strong,to protect you and defend you, whether you are right or wrong.Someone to open each and every door.But it ain't me, babe, no, no, no, it ain't me, babe,it ain't me you're looking for, babe.Go lightly from the ledge, babe, go lightly on the ground.I'm not the one you want, babe, I will only let you down.You say you're looking for someone, who will promise never to part.Someone to close his eyes for you, someone to close his heart.Someone who will die for you and more. + CHORUSGo, melt back in the night, babe, everything inside is made of stone.There's nothing in here moving, and anyway I'm not alone.You say you're looking for someone, who'll pick you up each time you fall.To gather flowers constantly, and to come each time you call.A love of your life and nothing more. + CHORUS

(Joan Baez)
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. . .


Queen Jane lay in labor
For six weeks and more
The women grew weary
And the midwife gave o'er

King Henry, he was sent for
On horse back and speed
King Henry came to her
In the time of her need

Oh Henry, good King Henry
If that you do be
Please pierce my side open
And save my baby

Oh no Jane, good Queen Jane
That never could be
I'd lose my sweet flower
To save my baby

Queen Jane she turned over
She fell all in a swoon
Her side was pierced open
And the baby was found

How bright was the morning
How yellow was the moon
How costly the white coat
Queen Jane was wrapped in

King Henry he weeped
He wrung his hands 'til they're sore
The flower of England
Will never be no more

. . .


melody: Heitor Villa-Lobos
text: Ruth Valadares Correa

Tarde uma nuvem rósea lenta e transparente.
Sobre o espaço, sonhadora e bela!
Surge no infinito a lua docemente,
Enfeitando a tarde, qual meiga donzela
Que se apresta e a linda sonhadoramente,
Em anseios d'alma para ficar bela
Grita ao céu e a terra toda a Natureza!
Cala a passarada aos seus tristes queixumes
E reflete o mar toda a Sua riqueza...
Suave a luz da lua desperta agora
A cruel saudade que ri e chora!
Tarde uma nuvem rósea lenta e transparente
Sobre o espaço, sonhadora e bela!

Aria (from Bachianas Brasileiras No. 5)
(English translation)

Evening, a rosy, slow and transparent cloud
Over the space dreamy and beautiful
The Moon sweetly appears in the horizon,
Decorating the afternoon like a nice damsel
Who rushes and dreamy adorns herself
With an anxious soul to become beautiful
Shout all Nature to the Sky and to the Earth!
All birds become silent to the Moon's complains
And the Sea reflects its great splendor.
Softly, the shining Moon just awakes
The cruel missing that laughs and cries.
Evening, a rosy, slow and transparent cloud
Over the space dreamy and beautiful...

. . .


Go away from my window
Go away from my door
Go away way from my bedside
And bother me no more
And bother me no more

I'll go tell all of my brothers
I'll go tell my shipmates too
The reason that my heart is broke
Is all because of you
Is all because of you

I'll give you back your presents
You give me back my ring
And I won't forget my own true love
As long as song birds sing
As long as song birds sing

Go away from my window
Go away from my door
Go away way from my bedside
And bother me no more
And bother me no more

I'll tell all of my brothers
I'll tell my shipmates too
The reason that my heart is broke
Is all because of you
Is all because of you

. . .


At my door the leaves are falling
The cold wild wind will come
Sweethearts walk by together
And I still miss someone

I go out to wild the parties
And look for a little fun
But I find the darkened corner
'Cause I still miss someone

Though I never got over those blue eyes
I see them everywhere
I miss those arms that held me
When all the love was there
I wonder if she's sorry for
For leaving what we had begun
There's someone for me somewhere
And I still miss someone

Though I never got over those blue eyes
I see them everywhere
I miss those arms that held me
When all the love was there
I wonder if she's sorry for
For leaving what we had begun
There's someone for me somewhere
And I still miss someone

. . .


CHORUS
When you hear them cuckoos hollerin'
When you hear them cuckoos hollerin'
When you hear them cuckoos hollerin'
Sign of rain, buddy, it'ss a sign of rain

Goin' up on the mountain, for to see my baby
Goin' up on the mountain, for to see my baby
Goin' up on the mountain, for to see my baby
Ain't comin' home, buddy, and I ain't comin' home

CHORUS

When you hear them hoot owls callin'
When you hear them hoot owls callin'
When you hear them hoot owls callin'
Someone's dyin', whoa, somebody's dyin'

CHORUS

. . .


Lyrics as reprinted in Guy and Candie Carawan, Sing for Freedom: The Story of
the Civil Rights Movement through its songs, Bethlehem, PA, 1990, pp. 122-123.

Come round by my side and I'll sing you a song.
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong.
On Birmingham Sunday the blood ran like wine,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
That cold autumn morning no eyes saw the sun,
And Addie Mae Collins, her number was one.
At an old Baptist church there was no need to run.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom,
The clouds they were grey and the autumn winds blew,
And Denise McNair brought the number to two.
The falcon of death was a creature they knew,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom,
The church it was crowded, but no one could see
That Cynthia Wesley's dark number was three.
Her prayers and her feelings would shame you and me.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
Young Carol Robertson entered the door
And the number her killers had given was four.
She asked for a blessing but asked for no more,
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
On Birmingham Sunday a noise shook the ground.
And people all over the earth turned around.
For no one recalled a more cowardly sound.
And the choirs kept singing of Freedom.
The men in the forest they once asked of me,
How many black berries grew in the Blue Sea.
And I asked them right with a tear in my eye.
How many dark ships in the forest?
The Sunday has come and the Sunday has gone.
And I can't do much more than to sing you a song.
I'll sing it so softly, it'll do no one wrong.
And the choirs keep singing of Freedom.

. . .


So we'll go no more a-roving
So late into the night
Though the heart be still as loving
And the moon be still as bright

For the sword outwears the sheath
And the soul wears out the breast
And the heart must pause to breathe
And love itself must rest

Though the night was made for loving
And the day returns too soon
Still we'll go no more a-roving
By the light of the moon

. . .


Olé, Mulher Rendeira,
Olé mulhé rendá

Tu me ensina a fazer renda,
eu te ensino a namorá.
Lampião desceu a serra
Deu um baile da cangaceira

Olé, Mulher Rendeira,
Olé mulhé rendá

. . .


(revised version sung by Joan Baez)


Cold blows the wind to my true love,
And gently drops the rain.
I've never had but one true love,
And in green-wood he lies slain.

I'll do as much for my true love,
As any young girl may,
I'll sit and mourn all on his grave,
For twelve months and a day.

And when twelve months and a day was passed,
The ghost did rise and speak,
"Why sittest thou all on my grave
And will no let me sleep?"

"Go fetch me water from the desert,
And blood from out the stone,
Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast
That young man never has known."

"How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart,
Where we were want to walk,
The fairest flower that e'er I saw
Has withered to a stalk."

"A stalk has withered and dead, sweetheart,
The flower will never return,
And since I've lost my own true love,
What can I do but yearn."

"When will we meet again, sweetheart,
When will we meet again?"
"When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again."

The Unquiet Grave (Child #78)
Traditional Folk Song
From "Joan Baez 5"
sung by Joan Baez (5), Frankie Armstrong
(Lovely on Water), Ian Campbell, and Patons

. . .


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