Most tragic/depressing songs

[jsluder]

Claptons well known dirge "Wonderful tonight" is one song that really depresses me. It's a long,long way from that piece of mawkish crap to the passion of Layla.

Clapton's "Tears in Heaven" is a bit of a downer, too.

[Cathy Wilde]

... Dust in the wind
all we are is dust in the wind.
Dust in the wind.
Everything is dust in the wind.

Ah, jeez that was my junior prom theme song. Even then I knew we were doomed.

[Cathy Wilde]

Now that we're out of the Fields of Athenry, etc. I have to add Tom Waits's "Grapefruit Moon" to the list. I don't know why, but the line about "Now I'm smoking cigarettes and strive for purity/and I slip just like the stars into obscurity" usually puts me (sorry, Tom) up a tree ....

P.S. Back in Irish land, I think Long Way from Clare To Here is kind of a sniffler

[dubhlinn]

No doubt about it...but I've reserved the right to give you a hard time.

Mmmm... I'll have to read up on Freud.

Slan,
D.

[dubhlinn]

Now that we're out of the Fields of Athenry, etc. I have to add Tom Waits's "Grapefruit Moon" to the list. I don't know why, but the line about "Now I'm smoking cigarettes and strive for purity/and I slip just like the stars into obscurity" usually puts me (sorry, Tom) up a tree ....

P.S. Back in Irish land, I think Long Way from Clare To Here is kind of a sniffler

Small world..or Branch maybe.
I absolutely adore Grapefruit Moon, and that line in particular.

"..and every time I hear that melody.."

Ahh......

Slan,
D.

[rebl_rn]

Kilkelly always makes me cry. The American Civil War spawned a LOT of depressing songs. Here's a few:

Shiloh Hill by M.G. Smith

Come all ye valiant soldiers -- a story I will tell
About the bloody battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill.
It was an awful struggle and will cause your blood to chill;
It was the famous battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill.

'Twas on the sixth of April, just at the break of day;
The drums and fifes were playing for us to march away.
The feeling of that hour I do remember still,
When first my feet were tromping on the top of Shiloh Hill.

About the hour of sunrise the battle it began;
Before the day was ended, we fought 'em hand to hand.
The horrors of that field did my heart with anguish fill
For the wounded and the dying that lay on Shiloh Hill.

There were men from every nation laid on those bloody plains,
Fathers, sons, and brothers were numbered with the slain,
That has caused so many homes with deep mourning to be filled,
All from the bloody battle that was fought on Shiloh Hill.

The wounded men were crying for help from everywhere,
While others who were dying were offering God their prayer,
"Protect my wife and children if it is Thy holy will!"
Such were the prayers I heard that night on Shiloh Hill.

And early the next morning we were called to arms again,
Unmindful of the wounded and unuseful to the slain;
The struggle was renewed again, and ten thousand men were killed;
This was the second conflict of the famous Shiloh Hill.

The battle it raged on, though dead and dying men
Lay thick all o'er the ground, on the hill and on the glen;
And from their deadly wounds, the blood ran like a rill;
Such were the mournful sights that I saw on Shiloh Hill.

Before the day was ended, the battle ceased to roar,
And thousands of brave soldiers had fell to rise no more;
They left their vacant ranks for some other ones to fill,
And now their mouldering bodies all lie on Shiloh Hill.

And now my song is ended about those bloody plains;
I hope the sight by mortal man may ne'er be seen again!
But I pray to God, the Saviour, "If consistent with Thy will,
To save the souls of all who fell on bloody Shiloh Hill."

All Quiet Along the Potomac Tonight
All quiet along the Potomac tonight,
except here and there a stray picket
is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro,
by a rifleman hid in the thicket:
tis nothing, a private or two, now and then,
will not count in the news of the battle:
not an officer lost, only one of the men,
moaning out all alone the death rattle,

"All quiet along the Potomac tonight",
where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming,
and their tents in the rays of the clear Autumn moon,
and the light of the campfires are gleaming.
A tremulous sigh as the gentle night wind
thro' the forest leaves slowly is creeping,
while the stars up above, with their glittering eyes,
keep guard o'er the army while sleeping.

There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread,
as he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
and thinks of the two on the low trundle bed
far away in the cot on the mountain.
His musket falls slack - his face, dark and grim,
grows gentle with memories tender,
as he mutters a prayer for the children asleep,
and their mother - "May Heaven defend her."

Then drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
he dashes off the tears that are welling:
and gathers his gun close to his breast
as if to keep down the hearts swelling.
He passes the fountain, the blasted pine tree,
and his footstep is lagging and weary:
yet onward he goes, thro' the broad belt of light,
towards the shades of the forest so dreary.

Hark! was it the night wind that rustles the leaves?
Was it the moonlight so wondrously flashing?
It looked like a rifle! "Ha! Mary, goodbye!"
and his life blood is ebbing and 'plashing.
"All quiet along the Potomac tonight,"
no sound save the rush of the river;
while soft falls the dew on the face of the dead.
"The Picket's" off duty forever.


Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye
While goin' the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo
While goin' the road to sweet Athy, hurroo, hurroo
While goin' the road to sweet Athy
A stick in me hand and a drop in me eye
A doleful damsel I heard cry,
Johnny I hardly knew ye.

With your drums and guns and drums and guns, hurroo, hurroo
With your drums and guns and drums and guns, hurroo, hurroo
With your drums and guns and drums and guns
The enemy nearly slew ye
Oh my darling dear, Ye look so queer
Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Where are your eyes that were so mild, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your eyes that were so mild, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your eyes that were so mild
When my heart you so beguiled
Why did ye run from me and the child
Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

Where are your legs that used to run, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your legs that used to run, hurroo, hurroo
Where are your legs that used to run
When you went for to carry a gun
Indeed your dancing days are done
Oh Johnny, I hardly knew ye.

I'm happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo
I'm happy for to see ye home, hurroo, hurroo
I'm happy for to see ye home
All from the island of Sulloon
So low in flesh, so high in bone
Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

Ye haven't an arm, ye haven't a leg, hurroo, hurroo
Ye haven't an arm, ye haven't a leg, hurroo, hurroo
Ye haven't an arm, ye haven't a leg
Ye're an armless, boneless, chickenless egg
Ye'll have to put with a bowl out to beg
Oh Johnny I hardly knew ye.

[TelegramSam]

http://musicsky.81630.com/index.pl/sunnday

(Ignore the parts written in Chinese)

[chas]

I could name a couple that are hopefully well-known enough that lyrics don't need to be posted:

West Coast of Clare (Andy Irvine and Planxty) -- a song of longing
Annachie Gordon (Child no. 239) -- squashed love, ending with both of them dying of broken hearts
Saucy Sailor -- Maddy does an awesome version of this on Steeleye Span's "Below the salt"

I'm not sure if it's the songs or just delivery, but Eliza Carthy turns me to mush with any number of songs -- Blow the winds, The snow it melts the soonest, Benjamin Bowmaneer (that's just one album's worth)

Andy M. Stewart has written some absolute tearjerkers -- Where Are You is right up there with any trad song.

Here's one that's less well-known. It's called Christmas in the Trenches, by John McCutcheon. If there's any worse fate than to be on a war front on Christmas, it's becoming buddies with the other side, then having to shoot at them afterward; the tune's nothing special, but it doesn't need to be


My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool.
Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.
To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here
I fought for King and country I love dear.
'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung,
The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung
Our families back in England were toasting us that day
Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmates on the cold and rocky ground
When o're the field of battle came a most peculiar sound
Says I, ``Now listen up, me boys!'' each soldier strained to hear
As one young German voice sang out so clear.
``He's singing bloody well, you know!'' my partner says to me
then one by one, each German voice joined in harmony
The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more
As Christmas brought us respite from the war

As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent
``God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen'' struck up some lads from Kent
The next they sang was ``Stille Nacht.'' ``Tis `Silent Night','' says I
And in two tongues one song filled up that sky
``There's someone coming toward us!'' the front line sentry cried
All sights were fixed on one long figure trudging from their side
His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shown on that plain so bright
As he, bravely, strode unarmed into the night

Then one by one on either side walked into "No Man's Land"
With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand
We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well
And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave them hell
We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home
These sons and fathers far away from families of their own
Young Sanders played the squeezebox and they had a violin
This curious and unlikely band of men

Than daylight stole upon us and France was France once more
With sad farewells we each prepared to settle back to war
But the question haunted every heart that lived that wonderous night
``Whose family have I fixed within my sights?''
'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost, so bitter hung
The frozen fields of France were warmed when songs of peace were sung
For the walls they'd built between us to exact their work of war
Were crumbled and were gone forevermore

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell
Each Christmas come since World War I, I've learned its lessons well
But the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame
And on each end of the rifle we're the same

[burnsbyrne]

Chas,
I was just about to write about Christmas in the Trenches. That's a real tearjerker!

[Charlene]

"Christmas in the Trenches" always makes me cry. THere's a local folk music radio show on our NPR station and they always play that one at Christmas.

Speaking of war songs . . .

Two little boys had two little toys
Each had a wooden horse.
Gaily they played one summer's day
Warriors both, of course.
Then one little chap
He had a mishap
Broke off his horse's head
He wept for his toy
Then he cried with joy
When his brother said
"Do you think I would leave you crying
When there's room on my horse for two?
Climb up here Joe and don't be crying
I can go as fast with two
When we grow up we'll both be soldiers
And our horses will not be toys.
And I wonder if we will remember
When we were two little boys."

Long years passed and war came so fast
Bravely they marched away.
Cannon roared loud and in the mad crowd
Wounded and dying Joe lay.
Up came a shout and a horse dashes out
OUt from the ranks of blue
It galloped away to where Joe lay
And then came a voice he knew.
"Do you think I would leave you dying
When there's room on my horse for two?
Climb up here Joe we'll soon be flying
I can go as fast with two.
Did you see Joe I'm all a-tremble
Perhaps it's the battle's noise
But I think it's because I remember
When we were two little boys."

*************
I don't have time right now to drag out my LPs and verify the words - this is what my mother copied down years ago from a Rolf Harris record. I think it's the same version the Irish Rovers did several times in concert. There's probably more verses - but right now I can barely see through the tears to type this, let alone look for them!

[Darwin]

More Civil War-related:

(The melodies do a lot for all of them, but especially for the last one.)

Two Soldiers

He was just a blue-eyed Boston boy,
His voice was low with pain.
"I'll do your bidding, comrade mine,
If I ride back again.
But if you ride back and I am dead,
You'll do as much for me.
My mother, you know, must hear the news,
So write to her tenderly.

"She's waiting at home like a patient saint,
Her fond face pale with woe.
Her heart will be broken when I am gone,
I'll see her soon, I know."
Just then the order came to charge,
For an instant hand touched hand.
They both said, "Aye," then off they rode,
That brave and devoted band.

Straight was the course to the top of the hill,
The rebels they shot and shelled,
Plowed furrows of death through the toiling ranks,
And guarded them as they fell.
There soon came a horrible dying yell
From heights they could not gain,
And those whom doom and death had spared
Rode slowly back again.

But among the dead that were left on the hill
Was the boy with the curly hair.
The tall dark man who rode by his side
Lay dead beside him there.
There's no one to write to the blue-eyed girl
The words that her lover had said.
And Mother, you know is a-waiting her boy,
And she'll only know he's dead.

She'll only know he's dead.

Atlanta is Burning

Two years we've been fighting, though it seems like a hundred
Away to the south there's a home I once knew
Where my loved ones are waiting for a word from the Captain
That the battles have ended for the gray and the blue

I left dear old Georgia on the first day of April
The grass in the valley was just turning green
I married dear Sally just a week before leaving
We now have a baby that I've never seen

She wrote me a letter that told of our baby
He's just like his daddy is the words that it said
That was so long now that is seems like forever
And Lord I'm so homesick I wish I was dead

Atlanta is burning, the horizon is flaming
The thunder of canons in the distance I hear
I think of my Sally and the son that she gave me
I wish I could see her and the baby so dear

A bullet has found me, and the darkness is falling
The pain is unreal and my body so weak
The Captain is calling, but I cannot answer
My thoughts wander southward as I go to sleep

Greycoat Soldiers (Norman Blake)

Where the cold, clear mountain spring did roll
The green beech tree hung 'cross the road
Iron-rimmed wagons caught the sun
Back in the year of '61

Now Sherman's army marched around
In '64 they burned Georgia down
Setting wings to the feet
Of every living soul they'd meet

Chorus
Greycoat Soldiers have gone
Marching in a ragged war
Young wives and babies cry alone
For fathers, that come no more.

Well, they tore up rails, and they wrecked the bridge
By that hill called Mission Ridge
Hell it raged for days and nights
An end it seemed was not in sight

Well, they loaded up a cannon with nails and chains
The noise would drive a man insane.
Rifles rang sharp and loud
In that battle up above the clouds

Chorus

Now they're all gone the the rocks and the rills
And the green graveyard up on the hill
And no one does recall the day
Corporal Johnson rode away

And the cast iron markers they stand there
Guarding the battleground with care
Cannons rest all in a row
Prepared to meet some ghostly foe

Chorus

[Darwin]

"Do you think I would leave you crying
When there's room on my horse for two?
Climb up here Joe and don't be crying

In this verse, it's "Climb up here Jack".

[Darwin]

Doc Watson does a killer version of this one, as The Little Orphan Girl, I think. These words are from the Carter Family.

The Orphan Child

No home, no home, cried a little girl
At the door of a rich man's house
As she trembling stood on the marble step
And leaned on the polished wall

Her clothes were thin and her feet were bare
And the snow had covered her head
Oh, give me a home, she feebly cried
A home and a piece of bread

My father, alas, I never knew
And the tears did flow so bright
My mother sleeps in a new made grave
While the orphan begs tonight

The night was dark and the snow fell fast
And the rich man closed his door
His proud lips curled as he scornfully said
I've no home, no bread for the poor

While the rich man lay on his velvet couch
And dreamed of silver and gold
The little girl lay on a bed of ice
And murmured, I'm cold, cold, cold

I'm free, she cried, as she sank to the steps
And tried to cover her feet
With her tattered old clothes all covered with snow
Yes, covered with snow and sleet

The morning dawned and the little girl
Still lay at the rich man's door
But her soul had gone to a home above
Where there's room and bread for the poor

[rebl_rn]

THE BUTCHER BOY

In London city where I did dwell
A butcher boy, I loved right well
He courted me, my life away
But now with me, he will not stay

I wish, I wish, I wish in vain
I wish I was a maid again
A maid again I ne'er will be
'Till cherries grow on an apple tree

I wish my baby it was born
And smiling on its daddy's knee
And me poor girl to be dead and gone
With the long green grass growing over me

She went upstairs to go to bed
And calling to her mother said
"Give me a chair 'till I sit down
And a pen and ink 'till I write down"

At every word she dropped a tear
And at every line cried "Willie dear -
Oh, what a foolish girl was I
To be led astray by a butcher boy"

He went upstairs and the door he broke
He found her hanging from a rope
He took his knife and he cut her down
And in her pocket, these words he found

Oh, make my grave large, wide and deep
Put a marble stone at my head and feet
And in the middle, a turtle dove
That the world may know, that I died for love



- Traditional

[rebl_rn]

This one may not technically be "folk" music - but it's definitely tragic. It was also a hit song for Brad Paisley and Allison Krauss.

Whiskey Lullaby

She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby

The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night

She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby