I once saw an illustration of old-style waulking on the Island of Skye, I think it was, with the women sitting on the ground in two lines facing each other and fulling the woolen cloth with their bare feet, and a lone armed man standing apart scanning the distance. The article accompanying the picture said that the waulking song was considered to be among the women’s traditions, and made mention of the frankly erotic content of some of the songs -not all of them, I’m sure. It did make me think that the man was faced away because he was probably blushing.
It was still done that way—luadhchas (foot-waulking)—until relatively recently on Lewis and in Wester Ross. My grandmother was a Lewis McLeod but born on the coast of Wester Ross before emigrating to Australia.
Here’s a lyric (and explanation) a bit closer to what you’re talking about.
Artist: Mouth Music
Song: Who Will Have Fun With Me
Album:
O hoireann o, who will hav fun with me?
Who will flirt with me, who will be nice to me?
Who will, unless the young men will?
One day, I took off into the mountain moors
I came across a nice young lass
I went over and got her to talk with me
And I asked her what her surname was
She said, " I’m a Chisholm"
And I told her that that was my clan
She said to me, “I’ll have noting to do with you;
I prefer MacLeans
And a MacDonald will be coming to see me.”
from Mary Morrison (Barra), School of Scottish Studies archive recording; Hebridean Folk
Songs, Vol. III, Waulking songs from Vatersay, Barra, Souith Uist, Eriskay and Benbecula.
After the vigourous process of waulking tweed, young girls would often tease each other
through
impromptu ‘clapping songs’, in which the lead singer would hint of the love interests of
wome of
the other girls.
On the CD Music from the Edge of the World by the band Cran, there’s a waulking song, Hé Mantú, that’s really rhythmic and call-and-response. Here’s some of the Gaelic (it seems to be rendered in the Irish spelling, I’m guessing):
Hé mantú–
–'S truagh nach digeadh
Hé mantú–
–Siod 'gham iarraidh
Hé mantú–
–Gille 's litir
Hírí oró–
–Each is diolaid.
Hé mantú–
–hírí oró, hó ró hú ó.
Their translation of the whole song:
Pity that there does not come
Here to fetch me
A servant with a letter,
A horse and saddle.
If I had the sparrow’s wing,
The duck’s foot, the flight of birds,
I would swim the narrows,
The Sound of Islay, the Sound of Orkney.
I would go in to the castle
And I would take out my true love.
My Donall was well reared,
Not on green pond water
But on the milk of brown-haired women.
Yep, I know that one. I almost cited it earlier. The version I know has some differences in spelling so your guess might well be right. But, as you move around the Hebrides, Gaelic is pronounced differently from island to island, so I’m not sure. I know often on this board I use the Scottish spelling I’m familiar with rather than the Irish.
"I lured him in, with a piece of bread -
And then I crushed his *(&^ing head."
(Learned from the US Marine Corps).
When I was a little boy
Or so my mother told me…
Way haul away,
We’ll haul away, Joe.
That if I did not kiss the girls
My lips would get all moldy.
Way haul away,
We’ll haul away, Joe.
King Louie was the kind of France
Before the revolution.
Way haul away,
We’ll haul away, Joe.
But then he got his head cut off
Which spoiled his constitution.
Way haul away,
We’ll haul away, Joe.
Way haul away,
We’re bound for better weather.
Way haul away,
We’ll haul away, Joe.
Way haul away,
We’ll haul away together.
Way haul away,
We’ll haul away, Joe.
When I was a wee wee tot
They took me from my wee wee cot
And put me on my wee wee pot
To see if I would wee or not
Wee Wee
But when they saw that I would not
They took me from my wee wee pot
And put me in my wee wee cot
And then I gave it all I’ve got
Wee Wee
They took me from my wee wee cot
And then they spanked my wee wee bot
Which only shows that when its hot
It doesn’t pay to drink a lot
Wee Wee
But now I’m older
In my fives
And I may wee wee any time
But I know when I’m old and grey
I’ll only wee wee once a day
Wee Wee
Last night I heard “Froggy went a Courting” and realized that I have sung it as a call and response tune. This was sang along with some other song about a crawdad hole.
From the liner notes of the Irish Rovers album “Emigrate Emigrate”. These words are copyright 1973 by Shee Gwee Music and Mooncat Music:
YELLOW GALS
Johnny was a rover and he’s bound for Callao
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
Johnny was a rover and to sea he’s bound to go
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
(chorus) Do a let me go my gals
Do a let me go
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
As I walked down the landing stage
All on a summers’ morn
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
I met an immigrant Irish girl
A looking all forlorn
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
Good morning mister Captain sir
Good morning girl says he
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
Oh have you got a packet ship
Bound for Amerikay
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
I’ve got the Jenny Walker
And she’s bound around the horn
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
With five and fifty immigrants
And a thousand bags of corn
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
Bad luck to Irish sailor boys
Bad luck to them I say
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
They all got drunk, broke in me trunk
And stole me clothes away
Hey-a-row you yellow gals do a let me go
This song is probably no longer singable in public because the PC police will get mad about the term “yellow gals.” I’m sure it’s meant in the same sense as the “yellow rose of Texas”, i.e., a young woman of mixed Negro and Caucasian race, with more of the Caucasian ancestry to the point where her skin color was a golden color more than being really dark or really light.
The one verse I know of the crawdad song is:
You get a line, I’ll get a pole, honey.
You get a line, I’ll get a pole, babe.
You get a line, I’ll get a pole
We’ll go down to the crawdad hole
Honey, baby mine.
Dead Kennedys
“At My Job”
If your machine might slip a gear
Push this button to help it clear
Your time card says your name’s Joe
But we’ll call you 6-3-0
I’m working at my job
I’m so happy
More boring by the day
But they pay me
All that time spent going to school
Just to end up following-rules
[Chorus]
Now it’s time to take a break
Don’t stray too far or you’ll be late
Thank you for your service and a long career
Glad you gave us your best years
Charlene, Thanks for posting those lyrics! Now you have spured my memory - I do remember the Irish Rovers version - I beleive they sing it fairly up-tempo. The words seem to be what I recall.
Many Thanks!
Glad to be of service! 
I was worried afterwards because it did say it was copyrighted, so I e-mailed Will Millar and he e-mailed back and said it was OK -
The song, an old traditional sea song, is really ‘public domain’ (PD). I used to re-write some of the lyrics before we recorded them and could then do a “Adapted and arranged” copyright.
But I believe in the folk process so go ahead and use the lyric. It keeps the music alive.
Flanum - I think every job I’ve ever had has wound up that way!
Mhorag 'S Na Ho Ro Gheallaidh
One of my Clannad faves. I think the title means “Dead Man Waulking” …
Chorus (after each verse):
Him oi og io
A Mhòrag 's na ho rò gheallaidh
Him oi og io
Mhórag Bheag a’ chúl dualaich
gu dé dh’fhág an gruaim air t’aire.
'g iomain a chruaidh-laoidh gu buaile
's nach fhaic mi mo luaidh a dh 'fhearaibh.
'g iomain a chruidh-laoidh gu áiridh
's nach fhaic mi mo ghradh a dh’fhearaibh.
Suithadaibh luadhaibh an cló
gu deise phósaidh dha mo leannan.
chan eil mo leannan-sa ga h-iarraidh
thá té liath aige 's té thartáin.
Tha té úr am búth an táilleir
's thig i an diugh na 'maireach dhachaidh
djm
Here is a lovely site with tons of old clips from very early newsreels.
Click on Eriskay Weaving Women
In this clip you will hear the tunes to Mari’s Wedding and Ms MacClouds.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/scotland/history/scotlandonfilm/map/index.shtml
I love Port A Beul. As a piper I guess I have an affinity for it. I am trying to raise the interest in it at our Trad Singers Club. I love the music created by people as they scratched a living from the earth. I find the divinity of the human spirit in that.
I know Johnny Sangster…even have the lyrics hanging around somewhere.
JOHNNIE SANGSTER
O,a’ the seasons o’ the year
When we maun wark the sairest,
The harvest is the only time,
And yet it is the rarest,
We rise as seen as mornin’ licht,
Nae craters can be blither
We buckle on oor finger steels
And follow oot the scyther.
cho: For you, John-nie, you John-nie,
You, Johnnie Sangster
I’ll trim the gavel o’ my sheaf
For ye’re the gallant bandster
A mornin’ piece to line oor cheek
Afore that we gets forder,
Wi’ cloods o’ blue tobacco reek
We then set out in order.
The sheaves are risin’ thick and fast
And Johnnie he maun bind them;
The busy group, for fear they stick,
Can scarcely look behind them.
I’ll gie ye bands that winna slip
I’ll pleat them weel and thraw them,
I’ll lay my leg oot owre the sheaf
And draw the band sae handy.
Wi’ ilka strae as straucht’s a rash
And that’ll be the dandy.
If e’er it chance to be my lot
To get a gallant bandster
I’ll gar him wear a gentle coat
And bring him gopwd in handfuls.
But Johnnie he can please himsel’
I wadna wish him blinkit
Sae, after he has brewed his ale
He can sit doon and drink it.
A dainty cowie in the byre,
For butter and for cheeses
A grump[hie feedin’ in the sty
Wad keep the hoose in greases
A bonnie ewie in the bucht
Wad help to creesh the ladle
An we’ll get tufts o’ canie woo
Wad help to theek the cradle.
And for Char:
What’cha gonna do when the pond goes dry, Honey?
.
.
Sit on the bank watching crawdad’s die. . .
The old cadences are still alive wherever soldiers march, and the wind-driven tall ships sail.
For anyone east coastish USA who is interested in the old canal and maritime working tunes, there is a 10 day musical canal journey on the Erie Canal with an Irish Immigrant/worker theme planned for the first week in June.
http://www.canals.state.ny.us/news/pressrel/2006/2006-03-14-irish-fest.html
The Dubs’ mighty Barney singing ‘South Australia’ works for me.
Heave away, Haul away!
Trouble is, every time I see 'em he seems to sing the slow song ‘I Wish I had Someone to Love Me’ instead.
Next time I’m gonna yell “Heave away, haul away” between verses no matter which song he does…
Great song. Superb version.
I remember many a long hike with Green Grow The Rushs’ I’ll sing you one-oh, Green grow the rushes-oh, What is your one-oh, One is one and all alone and evermore shall be oh. … Two, Two little white doves cloth them all in green-oh, one is one and all alone and evermore she be so.
We sang them in cars traveling too.
But perhaps my most treasured memories, where visits to my Aunt Ruth’s house. She and her daughters, who were 16 and 18, would sing after every diner while they cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes. Wonderous 3 part harmonies honed by the years singing together
I often wonder that while the music industry has brought us an abundance of music, it has also discouraged the amatuer singing that was so often a part of life in years past.
Thank you. For some reason I’ve been thinking another verse is:
Yonder comes a man with a pack on his back honey. etc.
Can’t think of the last line though.