Sea shanties & sea songs

[nevergrown]

La Mer. Charles Trénet

La mer
Qu'on voit danser le long des golfes clairs
A des reflets d'argent
La mer
Des reflets changeants
Sous la pluie

La mer
Au ciel d'été confond
Ses blancs moutons
Avec les anges si purs
La mer bergère d'azur
Infinie

Voyez
Près des étangs
Ces grands roseaux mouillés
Voyez
Ces oiseaux blancs
Et ces maisons rouillées

La mer
Les a bercés
Le long des golfes clairs
Et d'une chanson d'amour
La mer
A bercé mon coeur pour la vie

 

[daeman]

...
Fifteen Men On The Dead Man's Chest (or Derelict) - Roger Wagner Chorale

 

[drsiebenmal]

Το τρικάταρτο εκπαιδευτικό ιστιοφόρο του γερμανικού ναυτικού Gorch Fock είναι το δεύτερο πλοίο με το όνομα αυτό. Πρόκειται για το ψευδώνυμο του συγγραφέα Γιόχαν Κίναου, που έγραψε θαλασσινές ιστορίες στα βορειογερμανικά (Plattdeutsch) και σκοτώθηκε στη ναυμαχία του Σκαγεράκη/Κατεγάτη.

Το πλοίο ήταν επί καιρό στα πρωτοσέλιδα των γερμανικών εφημερίδων καθώς (αντιγράφω από τη βίκη):

On 7 November 2010, a female officer-candidate died as a consequence of falling from the rigging. The accident happened during an exercise while the ship was moored in the port of Salvador da Bahia (Brasil). In the aftermath of the latest accident, naval cadets refused to climb the 40-meters mast, and four of them were subsequently accused of "inciting rebellion". This was described as a mutiny in some accounts. Officers' training on board the Gorch Fock was suspended pending a thorough review of training protocols and indeed the entire training program. According to a 19 November 2010 statement by Fleet Command, the officer candidates then on board were to be flown back to Germany to continue their training while the ship was docked in Ushuaia, Argentina. The captain was suspended, and a commission was appointed to investigate claims of sexual harassment and improper conduct. On 13 March 2011, all charges against the captain were dismissed.​

​

Το τραγούδι του Γκορχ Φοκ:​

 

[Cadmian]

Δύο διαφορετικές ματιές στο διήγημα The White Ship, από δύο διαφορετικά συγκροτήματα σε δύο τελείως διαφορετικές χρονικές περιόδους:

 

[somnambulist]

Ζωντανή ηχογράφηση από το 1961 με τον Παγιουμτζή και τον Βαμβακάρη που το ερμηνεύει σπαραχτικά

Κι αυτό χωρίς σχόλια

 

[daeman]

...
Σ' ευχαριστώ που το ξανάκουσα, somnambulist. Τώρα που είν' αργά, μετά του Βαμβακάρη, ο σπαραγμός του Μπάτη.

Ο θερμαστής - Γιώργος Μπάτης

Μηχανικός στη μηχανή
και ναύτης στο τιμόνι
κι ο θερμαστής στο στόκολο
μ' έξι φωτιές μαλώνει

Αγάντα, θερμαστάκι μου,
και ρίχνε τις φτυαριές σου
μέσα στο καζανάκι σου
να φτιάξουν οι φωτιές σου

Κάργα ρασκέτα και λοστό
τον Μπέη να περάσω
και μες στου Κάρντιφ τα νερά
εκεί να πάω ν' αράξω

Μα η φωτιά είναι φωτιά,
μα η φωτιά είναι λαύρα
κι η θάλασσα μου τα 'κανε
τα σωθικά μου μαύρα

 

[daeman]

...
My son John (trad.) - Tim Hart and Maddy Prior

My son John was tall and slim
He had a leg for every limb
But now he's got no legs at all
For he run a race with a cannonball
With me roo rum rar, faddle diddle dar
Whack faddlle liddle with me roo rum rar.

Oh were you deaf, were you blind
When you left your two fine legs behind
Or was it sailing on the sea
Lost your two fine legs right down to the knee
With me roo rum rar etc.

Oh I was not deaf, I was not blind
When I left my two fine legs behind
Nor was it sailing on the sea,
Lost my two fine legs right down to the knee
With me roo rum rar, etc.

For I was tall, I was slim
And I had a leg for every limb,
But now I've got no legs at all,
They were both shot away by a cannonball.
With me roo rum rar, etc.

note: a Mrs. McGrath variant, recorded on Tim Hart and Maddy Prior's Folk Songs of Olde England vol. 2
http://sniff.numachi.com/pages/tiSONJOHN.html


Wheeler Street

 

[oliver_twisted]

Μπράβο, Δαεμάνε! Δεν την είχα ακούσει αυτήν την παραλλαγή του Mrs McGrath/My son Ted (από τα πιο γνωστά παραδοσιακά αντιπολεμικά τραγούδια).

Ιδού η εκδοχή που ήξερα εγώ -αν και η παραπάνω,που έχεις εσύ είναι πιο ωραία, από Dubliners (ε, ναι, ποιοι άλλοι;)

και εδώ σε πολύ όμορφη εκτέλεση από Springsteen

 

[oliver_twisted]

Το πειρατικό του κάπτεν Τζίμη

 

[daeman]

...
Whiskey in the jar (Irish trad.) - Jerry Garcia & David Grisman

As I was going over the far-famed Kerry mountains,
I met with Captain Farrell and his money he was counting.
I first produced my pistol and then produced my rapier,
Saying, "Stand and deliver for I am a bold deceiver."

CHORUS:
With me ring, am-ah-do, am-ah-dah! Whack! Fol-the-daddy-oh!
Whack! Fol-the-daddy-oh! There's whiskey in the jar!

He counted out his money and it made a pretty penny.
I put it in my pocket and I gave it to my Jenny.
She sighed and she swore that she never would deceive me,
But the Devil take the women, for they never can be easy.

CHORUS:

I went into my chamber, all for to take a slumber,
I dreamt of gold and jewels and for sure it was no wonder.
But Jenny drew my charges, she filled them up with water.
She sent for Captain Farrell to be ready for the slaughter.

CHORUS:

'Twas early in the morning, before I rose to travel,
Up comes a band of footmen and likewise Captain Farrell.
I then produced my pistol, for she stole away my rapier.
But I couldn't shoot the water, so a prisoner I was taken.

CHORUS:

If anyone can aid me, it's my brother in the army.
If I but knew his station, be it Cork or in Killarney.
And if he'd come and join me, we'd go roving in Kilkenny.
I swear he'd treat me fairer than my darling, sporting Jenny.

http://kristinhall.org/songbook/SeaAndPub/WhiskeyInTheJar.html

 

[oliver_twisted]

Και λέω τι δεν έχουμε βάλει, τι δεν έχουμε βάλει...Ορίστε:

The leaving of Liverpool
Από Pogues αυτή τη φορά. :)

Fare thee well to you, my own true love,
There were many fare thee wells
I am bound for California,
A place that I know right well

So fare thee well, my own true love,
For when I return, united we will be
It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
But my darling when I think of thee

I am bound on a Yankee clipper ship,
Davy Crockett is her name,
And her Captain's name it is Burgess,
And they say that she's a floating hell

So fare thee well, my own true love,
For when I return, united we will be
It's not the leaving of Liverpool that grieves me,
But my darling when I think of thee

Oh I've sailed with Burgess once before
And I think I know him well
If a man's a sailor he will get along
If he's not then he's sure to tell

 

[oliver_twisted]

Ratcliffe Highway -trad. ζωντανή εκτέλεση από Ronnie Drew το 1964

As I was a-walking down London
From Wapping to Ratcliffe Highway
I chanced to pop into a Ale-house
To spend a long night and a day

A young doxy came rolling up to me
And asked if I'd money to sport
For a bottle of wine changed a guinea
And she quickly replied: 'That's the sort'

When the bottle was put on the table
There was glasses for everyone
When I asked for the change of my guinea
She tipped me a verse of her song

This lady flew into a passion
And placed both her hands on her hip
Saying: 'Sailor, don't you know our fashion?
Do you think you're on board of your ship?'

'If this is your fashion to rob me
Such a fashion I'll never abide
So launch out the change of my guinea
Or else I'll give you a broadside'

A gold watch hung over the mantel
So the change of my guinea I take
And down the stairs I run nimbly
Saying: 'Darn my old boots, I'm well paid'

The night being dark in my favour
To the river I quickly did creep
And I jumped in a boat bound for Deptford
And got safe aboard of my ship

So come all you bold young sailors
That ramble down Ratcliffe Highway
If you chance you go into a Ale-house
Beware, lads, how long you do stay

For the wine and the women invite you
And your heart will be all in a rage
If you give them a guinea for a bottle
You can go to the devil for your change

 

[bernardina]

Amsterdam Jacques Brel (live)

Dans le port d`Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui chantent
Les rêves qui les hantent
Au large d`Amsterdam
Dans le port d`Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui dorment
Comme des oriflammes
Le long des berges mornes
Dans le port d`Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui meurent
Pleins de bière et de drames
Aux premières lueurs
Mais dans le port d`Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui naissent
Dans la chaleur épaisse
Des langueurs océanes

Dans le port d`Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui mangent
Sur des nappes trop blanches
Des poissons ruisselants
Ils vous montrent des dents
A croquer la fortune
A décroisser la lune
A bouffer des haubans
Et ça sent la morue
Jusque dans le coeur des frites
Que leurs grosses mains invitent
A revenir en plus
Puis se lèvent en riant
Dans un bruit de tempête
Referment leur braguette
Et sortent en rotant

Dans le port d`Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui dansent
En se frottant la panse
Sur la panse des femmes
Et ils tournent et ils dansent
Comme des soleils crachés
Dans le son déchiré
D`un accordéon rance
Ils se tordent le cou
Pour mieux s`entendre rire
Jusqu`à ce que tout à coup
L`accordéon expire
Alors le geste grave
Alors le regard fier
Ils ramènent leur batave
Jusqu`en pleine lumière

Dans le port d`Amsterdam
Y a des marins qui boivent
Et qui boivent et reboivent
Et qui reboivent encore
Ils boivent à la santé
Des putains d`Amsterdam
De Hambourg ou d`ailleurs
Enfin ils boivent aux dames
Qui leur donnent leur joli corps
Qui leur donnent leur vertu
Pour une pièce en or
Et quand ils ont bien bu
Se plantent le nez au ciel
Se mouchent dans les étoiles
Et ils pissent comme je pleure
Sur les femmes infidèles
Dans le port d`Amsterdam
Dans le port d`Amsterdam.

 

[bernardina]

Tο ίδιο στην αγγλική βερσιόν από τον David Bowie
Port of Amsterdam

In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who sings
Of the dreams that he brings
From the wide open sea
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who sleeps
While the river bank weeps
To the old willow tree

In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who dies
Full of beer, full of cries
In a drunken town fight
In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who's born
On a hot muggy morn
By the dawn's early light

In the port of Amsterdam
Where the sailors all meet
There's a sailor who eats
Only fish heads and tails
And he'll show you his teeth
That have rotted too soon
That can haul up the sails
That can swallow the moon

And he yells to the cook
With his arms open wide
"Hey, bring me more fish
Throw it down by my side"
And he wants so to belch
But he's too full to try
So he stands up and laughs
And he zips up his fly


In the port of Amsterdam
You can see sailors dance
Paunches bursting their pants
Grinding women to porch
They've forgotten the tune
That their whiskey voice croaked
Splitting the night
With the roar of their jokes
And they turn and they dance
And they laugh and they lust
Till the rancid sound of the accordion bursts
And then out of the night
With their pride in their pants
And the sluts that they tow
Underneath the street lamps

In the port of Amsterdam
There's a sailor who drinks
And he drinks and he drinks
And he drinks once again
He'll drink to the health
Of the whores of Amsterdam
Who've given their bodies
To a thousand other men
Yeah, they've bargained their virtue
Their goodness all gone
For a few dirty coins
Well he just can't go on
Throws his nose to the sky
And he aims it up above
And he pisses like I cry
On the unfaithful love

In the port of Amsterdam
In the port of Amsterdam

 

[bernardina]

Επιστροφή στο Αιγαίο και σε ακόμη πιο οικείους ήχους με μια Μπρατσέρα. Εδώ στην την αυθεντική εκτέλεση από την Άννα και την Αιμιλία Χατζιδάκη

 

[daeman]

Amsterdam Jacques Brel (live)
[...]

Tο ίδιο στην αγγλική βερσιόν από τον David Bowie
Port of Amsterdam
[...]

Εεεε, κυρία, κυρία, η Μελάνη το έκανε πρώτη. Τη μαρτύρησα να μάθει! :laugh:

Έχει και δυο ελληνικές αποδόσεις απ' όπου είχα κορφολογήσει όταν υποτίτλισα το Jacques Brel Is Alive and Well and Living in Paris (με αναφορά της πηγής στους τελευταίους υπότιτλους βέβαια), και είχα ξεχάσει να την ευχαριστήσω τότε και ντρέπομαι γι' αυτό και βρήκα την ευκαιρία τώρα, σε άλλο μήνα, σε άλλο νήμα. Ευχαριστώ πολύ, Αόρατη Μελάνη! :)

 

[bernardina]

Α, την άτιμηηη
Για τιμωρία, να μεταφράσει πάραυτα και δοσμουκείνα τη Μπρατσέρα σε δύο γλώσσες! :laugh::laugh::twit::twit:

 

[daeman]

...
Song to the Siren - Tim Buckley

Long afloat on shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
'Til your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving to your isle
And you sang
'Sail to me, sail to me
Let me enfold you
Here I am, here I am
Waiting to hold you'

Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you hare when I was fox?
Now my foolish boat is leaning
Broken lovelorn on your rocks
For you sing
'Touch me not, touch me not
Come back tomorrow
Oh my heart, oh my heart
Shies from the sorrow'

I am puzzled as the oyster
I am troubled as the tide
Should I stand amid your breakers?
Or should I lie with death my bride?
Hear me sing
'Swim to me, swim to me
Let me enfold you
Here I am, here I am
Waiting to hold you'

 

[natandri]

Κι εδώ το ναυάγιο του Edmund Fitzgerald, από τον Gordon Lightfoot.

http://youtu.be/NhAvpx-t15s

 

[daeman]

...
Ocean Rain* - Echo & the Bunnymen

All at sea again
And now my hurricanes
Have brought down
This ocean rain
To bathe me again

My ship's a sail
Can you hear its tender frame
Screaming from beneath the waves
Screaming from beneath the waves

All hands on deck at dawn
Sailing to sadder shores
Your port in my heavy storms
Harbours the blackest thoughts

---

Seven Seas

Stab a sorry heart
With your favourite finger
Paint the whole world blue
And stop your tears from stinging
Hear the cavemen singing
Good news they're bringing

Seven seas
Swimming them so well
Glad to see
My face among them
Kissing the tortoise shell

A longing for
Some fresher feeling
Belonging
Or just forever kneeling
Where is the sense in stealing
Without the grace to be it

Burning my bridges
And smashing my mirrors
Turning to see if you're cowardly
Burning the witches with mother religious
You'll strike the matches and shower me
In water games
Washing the rocks below
Taught and tamed
In time with tear flow

Seven seas
Swimming them so well
Glad to see
My face among them
Kissing the tortoise shell

---

* Ο ομότιτλος δίσκος βρίσκεται εκεί, για όσο θα υπάρχει στο youtube.