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about

For the amateur singers of Whitby (where you've never had to sign a sheet to sing). The title was pinched from an aside on a Blind Blake record: "Let them bones speak, boy."

lyrics

Wednesday night in the Hare and Hounds
Upstairs, fifty chairs, entry two pounds
Janet on the door says there’s room for more
So get your arse inside and sit it down

Floor singers welcome if you sign the sheet
Get up onstage or else sing from your seat
Don’t be scared, Janet says, we’re all here
To sing and play, so get up on your feet

Here’s a farmer marching off to fight Napoleon
And a servant girl, big with the master’s wain
A rebel named McCann headed for Van Diemen’s Land
In three verses and a chorus, you can make them live again

Let their bones speak tonight
Let them whisper, let them cry
Sing their blues like you’ve walked in their shoes
Let their bones speak tonight

Ballads, Irish sentimentals, any style
Rock’n’roll, music hall, make us cry or smile
Sing one of your own if it makes you feel at home
We’ve not had a new Bob Dylan for a while

Janet used to sing the blues while Johnny played the slide
But now she just listens, ever since old Johnny died
Soon we'll all be gone, all that’s left will be the song
Sing it loud if you can’t sing it right

Here’s a cotton weaver and a cotton picker
A fishergirl and a coal miner’s wife
A lonely dockside whore, a dustbowl troubadour
A ploughboy, a cowboy, you can bring them back to life

Let their bones speak tonight
Let them whisper, let them cry
Sing their blues like you’ve walked in their shoes
Let their bones speak tonight

credits

from Incest And Morris Dancing, released June 24, 2014
© Jon Horne 2014

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about

Jon Horne Edinburgh, UK

Chronicling the folibles of the age via the medium of contemporary folk song since 2005.

All the music here is homemade and is provided free.

Even rougher recordings can be found at hornesdemoshop.bandcamp.com
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