The Pottage Point Centennial Band

From "Who Dares Disturb My Slumber"

"Colonial Waltz"

(instrumental)

Emilene: Oh, what cheer, Samuel. Back from the commissary, I see

Samuel: Yes, Emilene, but look yonder. We have visitors.

Emilene: Verily, I see a gathering of brave Americans. It may be that they would fancy a song. Fair Dickie, perhaps

"Fair Dickie"

As I did pass by the prairie grass

To seek my eager bride

I saw not her, but the barrister

And this he gaily cried

Fair Dickie

Where Dickie

Is the powder for my hair, Dickie

I can't wait for to barristrate

But my wig I do require

Fair Dickie

Where Dickie

Is the powder for my hair, Dickie

I can't wait for to barristrate

But my wig I do require

It came to pass that my Jenny ass

For want of shoes went lame

I rode forthwith to see the smith

And this he did proclaim

Fair Dickie

Where Dickie

Is the gelding or the mare, Dickie

I'll ironmong

As the day is long

But thy ass shall not be shod

Fair Dickie

Where Dickie

Is the gelding or the mare, Dickie

I'll ironmong

As the day is long

But thy ass shall not be shod

I'll ironmong

As the day is long

But thy ass shall not be shod

Emilene: Huzzah, that was Fair Dickie, and we are the Pottage Point Centennial Band.

Samuel: And our next song is for the infantryman who sallied to engage the enemy on the Lowlands Low.

Emilene: Blow, ye winds, and bless our soldiers with good fortune.

"The Fifer's Got a Wound'd Head"

Gallants attend, for truth I'm bound to tell, sir

Of soldiers who for freedom nearly fell, sir

Trooping, ho, to face the foe upon the plain

And marching forth and hence and whence and forth again

Rah puppity pim pum

Rah pippity pum pim

Pippity pum a roll of the drum and on we tread

Rah puppity pim pum

Rah pippity pum pum pim

Pippity pot

The fifer's got a woundd head

So come you lads, the truth I'm bound to say, sir

Of men who bravely stepped into the fray, sir

Marching apace, the foe to face, are men, men, men

Marching forth and hence and whence and forth again

Rah puppity pim pum

Rah pippity pum pim

Pippity pum a roll of the drum and on we tread

Rah puppity pim pum

Rah pippity pum pum pim

Pippity pot

The fifer's got a woundd head

Samuel: Poor fifer!

Emilene: Pray pardon, Samuel, but it is not merely the men who work from dawn til dusk. Colonial life is hard for us women, too. Retting flax, braiding the neckweed, and of course, stewing the pottage. But the heaviest yoke is the burden of love lost.

"Tinker O Tinker, Mend Not This Kettle"

Tinker O Tinker

Mend not this kettle

It's fine coat of metal

Was by my true love dented

Now he's gone for a soldier

Hardly ever more to return

So Tinker O Tinker

Mend not this kettle

It pricks me as a nettle

Please stay thy hand from tinking

Samuel: Well if it isn't willful young Sally Carver, the drovers daughter. Sally, what sort of song have you for us today

Sally: A droving song, sir, and one that you can step to!

Samuel: Ha ha! A droving song, gentlemen!

"Ever the Hampshire Down"

When I was nigh on six years old

I listened to the story

That my father told

He said he took his ewe to town

And every other ewe in town

Was ever the Hampshire Down

Ever the Hampshire Down

Every other ewe in town

Was ever the Hampshire Down

Ever the Hampshire Down

Every other ewe in town

Was ever the Hampshire Down

Emilene: The Hampshire Down is breed of sheep, tis not

Sally: Indeed, Madam Goodwife, with the strongest wool and finest yield of tender mutton!

When I was four and thirty years

I told that very story

That my daughter hears

I said my ram was fine and brown

But every other ram in town

Was ever the Hampshire Down

Ever the Hampshire Down

Every other ram in town

Was ever the Hampshire Down

Ever the Hampshire Down

Every other ram in town

Was ever the Hampshire Down

Samuel: Brave Americans all, we are the Pottage Point Centennial Band!

Emilene: Pray remember me, and may your trenchers be always full of tallow.

"Colonial Waltz Reprise"

(instrumental)

(Victoria Gilbert - vocals

Lauren London - vocals

Scarlett London - vocals

Darin Zahuranec - trumpet and french horn)