Flood Waters Rising

by Whelan

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about

7 Originals and 2 covers inspired by the Blues before 1960. Recorded in a live rough-n-ready, everyone-in-one-room setting with tons of vintage instruments, amps and gear.

credits

released November 20, 2013

Doug Berns: Upright and Electric Basses
Richard Huntley: Drums, Percussion
Arnaldo “Naido” Vargas: Piano, Keyboards, Accordion, Harmonica, Vocals
Sid Whelan: Guitar, Vocals. Electric bass on “I Can’t Write Love Songs.”
Produced by: Sid Whelan & Lora-Faye
Recorded, edited and mixed at John Kilgore Sound & Recording
Mastered at Masterdisk by Randy Merrill

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Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

about

Whelan New York, New York

Sid Whelan is a veteran guitarist who for many years backed singers in world music acts. Recently he returned for songwriting inspiration to his love of American music pre-1960: the blues and country, folk, bluegrass, Tin Pan Alley, Broadway and jazz. He has begun a songwriting project with those influences in mind, tackling often difficult themes of contemporary American life for his lyrics. ... more

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Track Name: Frisco Lines
Too Cold Ohio Blues c. 2013 Sidney S. Whelan
(Lyrics only)

Well I lived in Ohio, much too cold for me.
Well I lived in Ohio baby, much too cold for me.
The sun refused to shine and I like to freeze.

Well it rained for forty days and it snowed for forty nights.
It rained for forty days and it snowed for forty nights.
So dark in the daytime the people never turn off they lights.

Well I’m leavin’ Ohio baby I feel like I’m runnin’ out of time.
I’m leavin’ Ohio baby I feel like I’m runnin’ out of time.
I‘m bound for California leavin’ out on that ‘Frisco Line.

Well I like my whiskey and you know I love my wine.
Well I like my whiskey and you know I love my wine.
But since I left Ohio baby you know I don’t drink moonshine.

Moonshine’ll make you crazy it’ll give you a crippled leg.
Moonshine’ll make you crazy it’ll give you a crippled leg.
You wake up in the morning you won’t be able to move a peg.

Well fire up this engine get this train runnin’ right on time.
Fire up this engine keep this train runnin’ right on time.
My San Francisco woman’s gonna fire up this engine of mine.
Track Name: Fool's Gold
Fool’s Gold c. 2013 Sidney S. Whelan

Well he traveled East to Boston.
With a cell phone and a pack of cards.
Some digits on a matchbook cover.
But when he got there the deal was over,
Ship had sailed for cleaner harbors.
And the Blues came around
Like a lowdown mangy hound.
That’s the way the Blues comes ‘round
When all you see as you look around is
Fool’s Gold, Fool’s Gold, Fool’s Gold.

It all went South in Carolina
Said: “Where’s Lady Luck? Well I can’t find her.”
A trooper stopped to give an answer,
Said: “Boy you sho is far from home,
We’d all be better off wit’ you gone!”
And the Blues stood her ground
Like a growling Junkyard hound.
That’s the way the Blues comes down
When all that glitter on the ground is
Fool’s Gold, Fool’s Gold, Fool’s Gold.

Ran home up North to New York City.
Fell in with the boys from ‘round the way.
They didn’t have nothin’ good to say:
“Can’t fit you anywhere in our plans,
You shoulda joined with us when you had the chance.”
And the Blues shuffled ‘round
Like a lowdown mangy hound.
Like a twister through your town.
Like a grave dug in the ground.
That's the way the Blues comes down
when all you see as you look around is
Fool’s Gold, Fool’s Gold, Fool’s Gold.

When all that glitter on the ground is
Fool's Gold. Fool's Gold.
Track Name: Flood Waters Rising
Flood Waters Rising c. 2013 Sidney S. Whelan

Flood waters rising.
All the people gathered round
To see
The high water mark
Slip below
The sea

Flood waters rising,
Covering all the ground
As far
As the old City Hall
And the
Bikers’ bar.

Flood waters rising
Washing away a way
Of life
Goin’ back many long years.
Fear cuts
Like a knife.

Flood waters rising
Flood waters rising
They know it’s comin’
You can see it in their eyes.
They saw that tsunami
On the Youttube and TV
Thinkin’ “That could have been me
And soon it will be.”

Flood waters rising
Rushing over the seawall
It pours.
Ice is all melting away.
Never coming back
No more.

Flood waters rising
Flood waters rising
He says “This is the
House that Mom and Dad left me.
What’s gonna happen now?”
How’m I gonna rebuild it
Should I even live by,
Live down by the sea?”

Wanna tell you it’ll be alright
Wanna tell you it’ll be alright
Wanna tell you it’ll be alright but
I don’t really know.

Can’t tell you it’ll be alright
Can’t tell you it’ll be alright
Can’t tell you it’ll be alright ‘cause
I don’t know.

Just might not be alright
Just might not be alright
Just might not be alright I
Don’t know.

I don’t know
I don’t know
I don’t know
I don’t know.
Track Name: Lighten Up
Lighten Up c. 2013 Sidney S. Whelan

"Lighten up!"
She said to me.
"You take it all
Too seriously."

"Altough you're right."
She said to me.
"It's all coming to an end,
Just not immediately."

"We got some time left."
She said to me.
"We can mourn when we're dead
Tonight is still lovely."

"Let's go dance."
She said to me.
"Where the sun sets
Over the wine-dark sea."

"We all die."
She said to me.
":So dance now
And hold me closely."

"Tell the truth;"
She said to me.
"It was worth livin'
To be with me."

"Lighten up!"
She said to me.
"You take it all
Too seriously."
Track Name: Bird Nest on the Ground
Bird Nest on the Ground c. 2013 Sidney S. Whelan
Haints in the attic. Haints in the woods.
Preacher man comin’ for your earthly goods
Your wife; your house; your horse and your farm.
Preacher man comin’ in his Cadillac car.
While you’re out searching for that,
Bird nest on the ground.
Bird nest on the ground,
Bird nest on the ground.

Sleep with anger or pray for peace.
Preacher man comin’ to pray for peace.
A piece of your wife; your truck and your farm.
Preacher man comin’ with the Devil in his heart.
‘Cause you were searchin’ for that
Bird nest on the ground,
Bird nest on the ground,
Bird nest on the ground.

Play that policy, let your numbers run.
Ducks fall to pellets from the mouth of your gun.
Wings beat ‘gainst a blood-red sky.
Gun smoke, buckshot, one last cry.
1, 2, 3, 4 tumbling down.
You think you just found that
Bird nest on the ground.

Ham hocks boil in a pot of greens.
Preacher man at the door lookin’ through the screen.
Hungry for your wife; your food and your farm.
Preacher man lookin’ to cause you harm.
Guess he just found that
Bird nest on the ground,
Bird nest on the ground,
Bird nest on the ground.
Track Name: That List
That List (Wayne Lapierre’s Blues Part 2) c. 2013 Sid Whelan

Wayne Lapierre Mr. NRA
Was in the news again today
He published a list of enemies
A list of established companies,
A list of respected agencies,
Charities and celebrities,
Each one of which made Wayne displeased.
This list was up 'til now unknown,
But today Wayne's cover was duly blown
By a liberal media journalist
Who no doubt was incredibly pissed
That his own chance had clearly been missed
To be included on Wayne's list!

Wayne, oh Wayne!
It’s a lowdown dirty shame
That list you’re keepin’
Does not include my name.

I went on your site.
To read the list late last night.
Sadly I found
You had quietly taken it down.

Now why would you do that?
Deprive the entertainment community
Of needed promotion and publicity
Once you give it you can't take it away
We're tired of Facebook and Youtube anyway
We were hoping to rely on the NRA
To make our marketing troubles
All go away.

Wayne oh Wayne
It's a doggone dirty shame
That list you're keeping
Is my only path to fame.









Now Wayne he loves Amendment two.
‘Cause it lets him sell guns to me and to you.
But Wayne has no love for Amendment one.
'Cause people can use it to criticize guns,
Or the wisdom of selling large magazines
To criminals, terrorists and the mentally diseased.
Sales that might have been stopped by a background check
But Wayne thinks that is the path to Heck.
And since Wayne makes 1 million dollars a year,
Peddling bullets, weaponry, paranoia and fear,
I can understand why he can’t stand to hear,
What the folks on his list are trying to say,
About innocent lives that they want to save!

Wayne, oh Wayne
It's a lowdown dirty shame
That list you're keepin’
Does not include my name.

Like a thief in the night
You took our list off your site
To all us entertainers that
Seems like an act of spite.

Rickie Lake, Bonne Raitt and Rob Lowe
Britney Spears, NSYNC and Sheryl Crow
Michael Moore independent radical film maker
Wayne, I need your stamp of disapproval please.
From celebrities to the Anti-Defamation League.
But, wait a minute; tell me Wayne
Exactly who you'd like to defame?

Wayne, hear this,
I really must insist
Stop playing these games and
Put me on your list!

Stop playing these games and
Put me on your list!

Stop playing these games and
Put me on your list!
Track Name: Dog in the Fight
Dog in the fight c. 2013 Sidney S. Whelan

Since this time last year,
They’ve been lining up and taking sides.
Now the crowd lets out a cheer,
As each side’s man arrives.
They’re rolling up their sleeves,
On this rough and dirty patch.
We ain’t none of us naïve.
Get your toes up to the scratch

So before the crack of dawn
Brings the first ray of light
You’d better have a dog in the fight
In the fight
You’d better have a dog in the fight.

He took a chance on you,
He took a chance on me.
He thought he knew the truth,
And they way it’s meant to be.
He took a chance on blame.
He took a chance on fright.
He took a chance on shame,
And a heavy dose of spite.

So before the bets are laid
And the bookies walk in sight.
He’d better have a dog in the fight,
In the fight.
He’d better have a dog in the fight.

He eyed the calm defender
Standing tall across the square.
He said “I’ll return you to your Sender,
Your flat will need a spare.
I’ll snatch you till your head is bald,
And you cry for your hair.
I’ll beat you ‘til the doctor’s called
And take your woman into my care.”

He looked around, boasting
At the left and to his right.
And said “The Dogs of War are with me in this fight,
In this fight.
The Dogs of War are with me in this fight.”

He’d bought off half the judges
Paid off half the crowd
Had his thugs and his enforcers
Scattered all around.
So imagine his confusion
At the top of the 12th round,
He just could not believe it
As his body hit the ground.

He looked around worried
At the left and to his right.
And said “I brought the wrong dog to this fight,
To this fight
I brought the wrong dog to this fight.”

The judges who’d been bought
Retreated quickly out the back.
The enforcers and the thugs thought
“Time to exit, Jack.”
The crowd divided quickly
Along their party lines
He was feeling kind of sickly
Second guesses in his mind

Bloody, bruised and broke-down
He stumbled home late in the night
“I didn’t have a dog in the fight.
I’m sorry babe.
I didn’t have a dog in the fight.”
Track Name: I Can't Write Love Songs
I Can’t Write Love Songs c. 2013 Sidney S. Whelan
Baby I’m sorry that I’m up here on this stage
Singing story after story of bitterness and rage
About crazy right wingers
Gun nuts and their fears
Global warming; politicians; reckless greedy financiers.
I know I should be singing ‘bout my boundless love for you.
I know that I should do it, ‘case that’s what good singers do.

But I can’t write love songs. I can’t write love songs.

I can’t write love songs the words don’t come out right.
I know I’m doing something wrong; everything I say is trite.

I can’t write love songs, the way they’re supposed to be.
Like Stevie Wonder, John Lennon, Carole King or Alicia Keys.

I wonder why that is?
I know words.
I know chords
I know melodies
I know you
And most of all
We know love.

I can’t write love songs.
I can’t write love songs.
I can’t write love songs
But I’ll see you at home tonight.

I can’t write love songs
But I’ll see you at home tonight.