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The Kingston Trio




Альбом The Kingston Trio



1959
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. . .


Dave Guard

Banua, Banua, banua, oh! Banua, Banua, baby, I don't know. (Hit it!) ( Once again!)(Repeat)

Won't you come to me, baby? Won't you bring me my bail?
For a drink and a fight on a Saturday night, they put down in the Banua jail.

(Chorus)

I didn't mean to be fightin' and bringin' you all of this shame,
But the tongue of Jonathan Brighton was scandalizin' your name.

(Chorus)

This Banua jail is cold and damp. The rats, they cover the floor.
Just ten and three will set me free and I'll be yours forever more. (Soft!)

(Chorus)

Banua!

. . .


Dave Guard

One, two, and three jolly coachmen sat at an English tavern. Three jolly coachmen sat at an English tavern,
And they decided, and they decided, and they decided to have another flagon.

Landlord, fill the flowing bowl until it doth run over. (Repeat)
For tonight we merr-I be, (Repeat twice)
Tomorrow we'll be sober. (What!)

Here's to the man who drinks dark ale and goes to bed quite mellow! (Repeat)
He lives as he ought to live (Repeat twice)
He'll die a jolly good fellow! (Ha! Ha! Ha!)

Here's to the man who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober. (Repeat)
He falls as the leaves do fall, (Repeat twice)
He'll die before October! (Ho! Ho! Ho!)

Here's to the maid who steals a kiss and runs to tell her mother. (Repeat)
She's a foolish, foolish thing. (Repeat twice)
For she'll not get another. (Pity!)

Here's to the maid who steals a kiss and stays to steal another. (Repeat)
She's a boon to all man kind. (Repeat twice)
For soon she'll be a mother!

. . .


Chorus:
South Coast, the wild coast, is lonely. You may win at the game at Jolon,
But the lion still rules the barranca, and a man there is always alone.

My name is Juan Hano de Castro. My father was a Spanish grandee,
But I won my wife in a card game, when a man lost his daughter to me.

I picked up the ace. I had won her! My heart, which was down at my feet
Jumped up to my throat in a hurry- Like a warm summers' day, she was sweet.
(Chorus)

Her arms had to tighten around me as we rode up the hills from the South.
Not a word did I hear from her that day- or a kiss from her pretty red mouth.

We came to my cabin at twilight. The stars twinkled out on the coast.
She soon loved the valley- the orchard- but I knew that she loved me the most.
(Chorus)

Then I got hurt in a landslide with crushed hip and twice-broken bone.
She saddled our pony like lightning- rode off in the night, all alone.

The lion screamed in the barranca; the pony fell back on the slide.
My young wife lay dead in the moonlight. My heart died that night with my
bride.
(Chorus)
Daughters were possessions, to be bet away or arranged marriages for; also, note
the use of "young wife" in the final stanza. Her shyness- "had to tighten"-
and her silent reticence but adaptable "soon loved..." indicates no previous
marriage,
and "lost his daughter to me" indicates her origin, whereas "to hell with
the lords o'er the sea" seems thrown in. If this man were a sailor, why would
he have established orchards?

Just a thought. I'd really like to see the original music if it were available.
The concept of betting away a daughter was my first exposure to the concept of
women as property and the sung stuck with me my whole life. (I was the oldest
and
only daughter and I was afraid of the possibility; I was 9 and the chorus,
except
for one word, and the storyline, and the tune have stayed with me for the last
25 years; it influenced my major "women's studies")

. . .


Dave Guard

(Guitar intro.) Cha! Cha!

Chile verde me pediste. Chile verde te dare. Vama nos para la huer ta con al la te lo cortare.(Tell them what it means then)
"You want green peppers? (Si!) I'll give you green peppers. Come out to the garden." ("Coplas!")

Chorus:
Lai, lai, lai, lai, hum de lai, lai, lai, hum de lai, lai, lai, lai. Lai, lai, lai, hum de lai, lai, lai, hum de lai, lai, lai

Dice que los de fu casa. Ninguno me puede ver. Diles que no basta el agua que al cabo lahan do beber.
"Tell your parents not to muddy the water around us." ("Porque?") "They may have to drink it soon!" ("Coplas!")

(Chorus)

La mula que yo mente la monto hoy mi compadre. Eso a mi no me importa pues yo la mon te primero. ("Oivey!")
"Ah, so! You are surprised I speak your language. You see, I was educated in your country? at U. C. R. A." ("Coplas!")

(Chorus)

La noche que me case. No pudde dormirme un rato. Por estar toda la noche corriendos detras de un gato. (Meow!)
Me dejiste que fue un gato. Que entro por tu balcon. Yo no visto gato prieto con sombrero y pantalon!
"On my wedding night, I did not sleep a wink. ("Porque?")I spent the whole night chasing a cat that had come in over the balcony?. (Meow!) wearing a sombrero and long pants!" ("Coplas!")

(Chorus)

. . .


Alan J. Lerner/Frederick Loewe

Away out here they've got a name for rain and wind and fire. The rain is Tess, the fire's Joe. They call the wind Maria.
Maria blows the stars around and sets the clouds a-flyin'. Maria makes the mountains sound like folks was out there dyin'.
Maria. (Maria). Maria. (Maria). They call the wind Maria.

Before I knew Maria's name and heard her wail and whinin', I had a gal. She had me and the sun was always shinin'.
But then one day I left my gal. I left her far behind me and now I'm lost, so gol' darn lost not even God can find me.
Maria. (Maria.) Maria. (Maria.) They call the wind Maria.

Out here they have a name for rain and wind and fire only. When you're lost and all alone, there ain't no name for lonely.
And I'm a lost and lonely man without a star to guide me. Maria blow my love to me. I need my gal beside me.
Maria. (Maria.) They call the wind Maria. Maria! Maria. (Maria.) They call the wind Maria.

. . .


Conrad Eugene Mauge, Jr.

Chorus:
Well, now, back to back, belly to belly, well, I don't give a damn 'cause I done that already, back to back
Belly to belly at the zombie jamboree.(Repeat) (Now hear the chorus) (You can feel that) (Oh, what a good game)(You're all alone, you know)

Zombie jamboree took place in a New York cemetery (Where?) Zombie jamboree took place in Long Island cemetery.
Zombies from all parts of the island. (Where?) Some of them are great calypsonians. (Some.)
Since the season was carnival they got together in bacchanal. Oh, what ya' doin'?

(Chorus)

One female zombie wouldn't behave. She say she want me for a slave.
In the one hand she's holding a quart of wine, in the other she's pointing that she'll be mine.
Well, believe me folks, I had to run. (Why?) A husband of a zombie ain't no fun! (Don't knock it!)
I says, "Oh, no, my turtle dove, that old bag of bones I cannot love." Oh, what you doin'?

(Chorus)

Right then and there she raise her feet. "I'm a-going to catch you now, my sweet.
I'm gonna make you call me 'Sweetie Pie'." I says "Oh, no, get back, you lie!"
"I may be lyin' but you will see (What?) After you kiss this dead zombie." (Blah!)
Well, I never seen such a horror in my life. Can you imagine me with a zombie wife? (Yes!)

(Chorus)

. . .


(Spoken recitation over musical accompaniment)
Throughout history, there have been many songs written about the eternal triangle. This next one tells the story of Mister Grayson, a beautiful woman, and a condemned man named Tom Dooley. When the sun rises tomorrow, Tom Dooley must hang.

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Hang down your head and cry.
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Poor boy, you're bound to die.

I met her on the mountain. There I took her life. Met her on the mountain. Stabbed her with my knife.

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Hang down your head and cry.
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Poor boy, you're bound to die.

This time tomorrow. Reckon where I'll be. Hadn't-a been for Grayson, I'd-a been in Tennessee.

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Hang down your head and cry.
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Poor boy, you're bound to die.

This time tomorrow. Reckon where I'll be. Down in some lonesome valley hangin' from a white oak tree.

Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Hang down your head and cry.
Hang down your head, Tom Dooley. Poor boy, you're bound to die.

. . .


They're rioting in Africa. They're starving in Spain.
There's hurricanes in Florida and Texas needs rain.

The whole world is festering with unhappy souls.
The French hate the Germans. The Germans hate the Poles.

Italians hate Yugoslavs. South Africans hate the Dutch.
And I don't like anybody very much!

But we can be tranquil and thankful and proud
For man's been endowed with a mushroom shaped cloud.

And we know for certain that some lovely day
Someone will set the spark off and we will all be blown away.

They're rioting in Africa. There's strife in Iran.
What nature doesn't do to us will be done by our fellow man.

. . .


Will Holt

Spoken: A young man goes to Paris, as every young man should. There's something in the air of France that does a young man good.

Chorus: On the album, Dave sings the beginning of the chorus in phonetic French. Actual French is as follows: Ah! les fraises et les fromboises et les bon vins (que) nous avons bus.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. Raspberries, strawberries, the good wines we brew.
Here's to the girls of the countryside, the ones we drink 'em to.

Spoken: Paris nights are warm and fair. The summer winds are soft. A young man finds the face of love in every field and loft.
In every field and loft.

(Chorus)

Spoken: An old man returns to Paris as ev'ry old man must. He finds the winter winds blow cold. His dreams have turned to dust.
His dreams have turned to dust. His dreams have turned to dust.

Ah! les fraises et les fromboises et les bon vins que nous avons bus.
La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la. Raspberries, strawberries, the good wines we brew.
Here's to the girls of the countryside, whom we must bid adieu.

. . .


Hey! We are following the footsteps of those who've gone before and we'll all be reunited on that new and sunlit shore.

Oh, when the saints go marching in,
Oh, when the saints go marching in,
oh, Lord, I want to be in that number when the saints go marching in.

And when the sun refuse to shine,
And when the sun refuse to shine,
oh, Lord, I want to be in that number when the sun refuse to shine.

Oh, when the trumpet sound its call,
Oh, when the trumpet sound its call,
oh, Lord, I want to be in that number when the trumpet sounds that call.

Oh, when the new world is revealed,
Oh, when the new world is revealed,
oh, Lord, I want to be in that number when the new world is revealed.

Oh, when the new world is revealed,
Oh, when the saints go marching in,
oh, Lord, I want to be in that number when the saints go marching in.

. . .


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