John McCutcheon & Tom Chapin
Doing Our Job

This album is the second of John's live albums (the first being Live at Wolf Trap), and his first recording with singer-songwriter Tom Chapin. Supported by frequent collaborators Michael Mark and Bobby Read, they plumbed the depths of their musical synchronicity and found a broad swath of common ground. The musical textures vary widely from song to song, the four-part harmonies were an unexpected surprise, and all were blessed with great audiences in good voice. It really turned out to be an ensemble effort rather than a round-robin, one of those rare instances when the total is truly greater than the sum of its parts.

"John McCutcheon and Tom Chapin do their job to perfection on this joint recording . . . Don't walk to the store to buy this recording. Run." —Sing Out!

Read the Walnut Valley Review of "Doing Our Job"

Read the FAME review of "Doing Our Job"

Personnel John McCutcheon: vocals, hammer dulcimer, guitar, banjo, fiddle, autoharp, and piano; Tom Chapin: vocals, 6 and 12-string guitars, banjo, and electric guitar; Bobby Read: vocals, keyboards, clarinet, and saxophones; and Michael Mark: vocals, bass and concertina

Formats

Compact Disk: Rounder CD:0411 Cassette: Rounder CS:0411

Produced by John McCutcheon, Tom Chapin, and Joe Digiorgi
Recorded Live December 11-13, 1996 at the Sheldon Theater, St. Louis, MO and the Brown Center, Arkansas City, KS
Year Released: 1997

Lyrics

Well May the World Go
words & music by Pete Seeger

John: vocal & banjo
Tom: vocal & guitar
Michael: harmony vocal and bass

Chorus:

Well may the world go, the world go, the world go
Well may the world go when I'm far away

Sweet may the breezes blow
Clear may the streams flow
Blue above and green below
When I'm far away

Chorus

Sweet may the fiddle sound
The banjo play the old hoedown
Dancers swing round and round
When I'm far away

Chorus

Swift may the skiers turn
The swimmers churn, the lovers burn
Peace may the generals learn
When I'm far away

Chorus

Northfield/Pass the Music On
Traditional, from the New Harp of Columbia/Si Kahn & Tom Chapin

Northfield—John, Tom, Bobby, Michael: vocals

How long, dear Savior, oh how long
Shall this bright hour delay?
Fly swift around, ye wheels of time
And bring the promised day

Pass the Music On—Tom: vocal & guitar
John: harmony vocal & banjo, hammer dulcimer, and fiddle
Bobby: piano
Michael: harmony vocal & bass

I did not learn this music at my Grandma's knee,
But from some old musicians I never got to see.
I know them by their records, their voices and their songs
And I'm blessed to be with you tonight to pass the music on.

Chorus

For the good times and the high times,
Through the suffering and pain;
It's the song of generations singing in my veins.
I still hear that old time music of good friends now long gone.
I am here tonight to pass the music on.

You know I'm not traditional and I've never claimed to be.
But I come from a tradition that others made for me.
They're still alive inside my heart although they're now long gone,
I like to think they trusted me to pass the music on.

Chorus

Bridge

Most of the songs I've got tonight I must admit we wrote,
Others I've learned heart to heart instead of note by note.
And now as I grow older and new folk come along
I'll help you out the best I can to pass the music on.

I've sung these songs with some old friends I never will forget.
And I've sung them with an audience of folks I've hardly met.
So here we are together to celebrate the song,
We'll sing and play our part tonight to pass the music on.

Chorus

© 1995 Joe Hill Music & The Last Music Co. (ASCAP)

Pastures of Plenty
words and music by Woody Guthrie

John: vocal & hammer dulcimer
Tom: guitar
Bobby: soprano sax
Michael: bass

It's a mighty hard road that these poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have wandered a hot dusty road
Out of the Dust Bowl and westward we rolled
Your deserts was hot and your mountains was cold

I've worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
Slept on the ground 'neath the light of the moon
At the edge of your cities you will see us and then
We come with the dust and we're gone with the wind

California, Arizona I've worked all your crops
Then up north to Oregon to gather your hops
Dig the beets from your ground, pick the grapes from your vine
To put on your table your bright, sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the Grand Coulee Dam where the waters run down
Every state in this Union us migrants have been
We'll work in this fight and we'll fight till we win

It's always we've rambled, this river and I
All through your green valley I will work till I die
This land I'll defend with my life if it be
For these pastures of plenty must always be free

Our Mothers Built This City
words and music by Si Kahn & Tom Chapin

Tom: vocal & guitar
John: harmony vocal & hammer dulcimer
Bobby: piano & saxophone
Michael: harmony vocal & bass

Tom—My oldest brother James is a history professor who loves to tell you what he knows, and he knows a lot so he talks a lot! But he's always interesting and frequently profound. He dropped a chance remark that stayed with me and as I chewed on it I got more and more irate. He was talking about the town where we grew up, New York City. He said, "This incredible city was built by our grandparents and great-grandparents; people who were significantly worse off than we are today. And now, in the late 1990's, we can barely maintain it. But it doesn't have to be that way!"

Every time I read the paper
Everywhere I look today.
Every time I check the TV,
I hear no chance, no hope, no way.
Every time I turn the corner
Someone else is on the street,
"I am hungry. I am homeless. I will work for food to eat."

Our mothers built this city.
Our fathers built this town.
Did they live in a harder time than you do, than I do?
Did they live in a harder time than we do now?

They survived the Great Depression,
World War I and World War II.
They knew the pain of immigration
They did what they had to do.
It seemed back then there was a chance for
Anyone willing to try.
Now it looks like almost no one
Cares if poor folks live or die.

Our mothers built this city.
Our fathers built this town.
Did they live in a meaner time than you do, than I do?
Did they live in a meaner time than we do now?

Bridge

Where are all the schools and clinics?
Where are all the jobs and homes?
Where are all that people need to really stand up on their own?

I see a chip on every shoulder
And I hear the corporate lies
Tearing down all that we worked for,
Selling off our children's lives.
Divide is still the way to conquer,
Cut the chips and let them fall.
But the hard work's still the good work
When we build with room for all.

Our mothers built this city.
Our fathers built this town.
We can build upon their work if you do, if I do,
Yes, we can build upon their work if we do now!

Doing My Job
Words & Music by John McCutcheon

John: vocal and guitar
Tom: harmony vocal and electric guitar
Bobby: saxophone
Michael: bass and harmony vocal

John—Written after Cal Ripken's record-breaking stretch of 2,131 consecutive games on September 6, 1995.

It was one for the ages
You just had to see
So we sat on the couch
My two kids and I
And we watched on TV
It was in the fifth inning
The game it had to be stopped
The whole ballpark went nuts
When the number was dropped
My kids they clapped and they hollered
Me, I choked up with tears
Thinking back on the grace
He brought to that place
For over thirteen years
And as he stood in the spotlight
He looked so awkward and shy
When they asked to say a few words on that day
This was his reply

Chorus

I'm only doing my job
Like folks everywhere
Where I come from
It's just how things are done
Doing my share
I did not love every part
Still I don't think it odd
Give your best
And to hell with the rest
Doin' my job

She gets up every morning
Gets the kids out the door
Then it's carpool and shop
Vacuum and mop
Until they're back home at four
Then it's supper and homework
Until they're all tucked away
It's a kiss and goodnight
And you turn out the light
For the four thousandth day

Chorus

We deliver the mail
We grow all the crops
We teach in the schools, we put out the fires
And we clerk in the shops
We enter the data
We build the bridges and roads
We show up every day
We work for our pay
We carry the loads

Chorus

©1995 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)

Every Night
Traditional

Tom: vocal and 12-string guitar
John: hammer dulcimer
Bobby: synthesizer
Michael: concertina

Tom—We stand on the backs of giants. True of all human history, but especially in acoustic music. This is a song sung by Ronnie Gilbert of the Weavers. The guitar part I lifted from Fred Hellerman.

Every night when the sun goes in.
Every night when the sun goes in.
Every night when the sun goes in
I hang down my head and mournful cry.

True love don't weep, true love don't mourn.
True love don't weep, true love don't mourn.
True love don't weep, true love don't mourn,
I'm going away to Marbletown.

I wish to the Lord my babe was born,
Sitting on his mama's knee
And me poor boy were dead and gone
With the green grass growing over me.

Every night when the sun goes in.
Every night when the sun goes in.
Every night when the sun goes in
I hang down my head and mournful cry.

I Don't Care
Words & Music by John McCutcheon

John: vocal and guitar
Tom: harmony vocal and banjo
Michael: harmony vocal and bass

Where did it come from, this love of the lurid?
When did reality just get too tame
From the Washington Post to the Weekly World News
It seems nobody has any shame
But when gossip abounds I have recently found
A remedy when I despair
To this junk that I see I respond with ennui
And say I really don't care

I don't care
I don't care

Who shot JR? Is Patty Hearst lying?
I don't care
Liz Taylor is marrying, Elvis is dying
I don't care

I don't care
I don't care
Let the rich and the glamorous ruin their lives
Going through fortunes and treatments and wives
And poor Donald Trump, he just barely survives
But I don't care

Rosanne & Tom, they'll not be a pair again
Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan
Does Michael Jordan gamble on golf?
Why does Hillary Clinton tick Rush Limbaugh off?

I don't care
I don't care
Though the National Enquirer says that it's so
For their lies and distortions they're paying good dough
But there are some things enquiring minds don't need to know
I don't care

Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie
They me that Oprah can wear a size 3
There's a piece of John Bobbitt right here on display
And there's OJ on twenty four hours a day

I don't care
I don't care
Though your troubles are mounting and you work like a drone
It's more fun to watch than to live on your own
Do you think Princess Di made those calls on her phone?

I don't care
I don't care
I really, really, really, really, really don't care
It's the same old sad story the whole world around
We build up our heroes wherever they're found
Then spend the rest of their lives tearing them down
I don't care

©1995 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)

Hard Cider
John McCutcheon & Tom Chapin

Tom: vocal & guitar
John: harmony vocal & piano
Bobby: synthesizer
Michael: harmony vocal & bass

White lines on a blacktop, pay phone in a parking lot.
There ain't no way a man should have to feel the way I do.
Billboard on the curve ahead broken down and left for dead.
Rolling through this river town a thousand miles from you.

Chorus

Hard cider, sweet juice has turned.
Silver dollar, what have I learned?
The road I'm walkin' I've not walked before.
Things I used to, I don't do no more.

Last night was a motel over near the railroad.
I like it when they put me here on the under side of town.
Half-past midnight, couldn't sleep for thinking
And the banging in the freight yard as they move them cars around.

Down in Georgia, down in Georgia
They build those trains on the night shift just as heavy as they can.
And once they get moving they will roll forever.
Carry you through the moonlight all the way to the promised land.

Chorus

Bridge

Roadside stand, tomatoes from the vine.
Fifteen miles to See Rock City on the road to Caroline.
Sweet magnolia moonlight on a truck to Tupelo.
Headlights and the redlights and a hundred miles to go.

Mist on the mountain, Water on the highway.
Out on the road there's so little to believe.
Sure do miss you at the end of summer.
You're a sweet dream tugging at my sleeve.

Chorus

©1996 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs & Tom Chapin/ The Last Music Co. (ASCAP)

Dead Man Walking
words & music by John McCutcheon

John: vocal and slide guitar
Tom: electric guitar
Bobby: synthesizer
Michael: bass

John—Written after reading the book of the same title by Sr. Helen Prejean.

Warden comes in with his hands all a-sweatin'
But there's steel in his eyes and beer on his breath
Priest stands by with his prayer book open
Preaching 'bout forgiveness in the language of death
You get one last meal, one last cigarette
One last phone call if there's someone who'll talk
Any last words and you better think quick
Because eternity's a-waiting at the end of the walk

Quiet on the tier
There's a dead man walking
I said, "Quiet on the tier
There's a dead man walking!"

I ain't asking for favors, for handouts or pity
I got no right to ask for forgiveness at all
But "Vengeance is mine!" said the Lord in the Bible
I bet he don't know a thing about that room down the hall
Twelve good men and woman, all calm and collected,
Said, "Your sorry-ass soul has got to burn for your crime."
It's an easier road to revenge than to mercy
But an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind

Quiet on the tier
There's a dead man walking
I said, "Quiet on the tier
There's a dead man walking!"
One hand on the trigger and the other on the switch
If one of 'em is innocent I can't say which

Last night I dreamed I seen my Mother
She was standing in the kitchen staring out at the yard
She had her hands on her hips and her eyes on the garden
Like it'd sprout me a pardon if she prayed real hard
It was a July morning, church bells a-ringing
Hard oak pews and my Sunday best
Now I'm sitting here waiting on the angel band
In my last suit of clothes with a strap across my chest

Quiet on the tier
There's a dead man walking
I said, "Quiet on the tier
There's a dead man walking!"

From their very first step to the last of their lives
They'll pay more to kill him than to see he survives

©1994 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)

Make It Right
Words & music by Tom Chapin

Tom: vocal & guitar
Bobby: harmony vocal & piano
Michael: harmony vocal & bass

Put on your red dress. Yes, the one that you put away.
Put on an old song like the ones we used to play.
Put a candle on the table, we're gonna stay home tonight.
Nowhere to go, nothing to do but to make it right.

Chorus

Make it right all night long.
When we're right nothing can go wrong.
So close your eyes and sing this song tonight:
Make it right. Make it right. Make it right.

No big celebration, none of your friends or friends of mine.
No obligation, let's just turn off our minds
And you look at me, I'll look at you. You're such a pretty sight.
You are all that this man needs to make it right.

Chorus

Bridge

I was a leaf on the water, float downstream,
I lost my direction in someone else's dream,
Until I saw you in the center, just as still as a stone
And you held my heart and you helped me home.

I feel like a runner, running this race that never ends,
Run on forever until I learn how to pretend.
It's a long way to wisdom. It's a long run through the night.
Run with me baby, we'll make it right.

Chorus

River Gonna Carry Me
Words & music by John McCutcheon

John: vocal & guitar
Tom: harmony vocal & 12-string guitar
Bobby: clarinet
Michael: harmony vocal & bass

John—My wife, Parthy, gave me a beautiful children's book for Christmas one year entitled Follow the Drinking Gourd. It was a retelling of the story of the Underground Railroad. I used to visit my children's elementary schools every Black History Month and tell them the story of that river of people that braved danger and the law in their star-guided flight to freedom.

Well, don't you know (don't you know)
That I'm the one (I'm the one)
Up in the morning
Before the sun (before the sun)
Well, don't you know that I'm the one
Up in the morning before the sun
Break my back till the long day's done
But the river gonna carry me away

Chorus:

Carry me river, to my home
Carry me river, back to my own
To the one I love and the family
The old home place is gonna set me free
When the river gonna carry me away

And when the sun go down (when the sun go down)
And then moon is high (and the moon is high)
And the northern star
Mount the midnight sky (mount the midnight sky)
When the sun go down and the moon is high
And that northern star mount the midnight sky
Gonna set my sites and I'm gonna fly
'Cause the river gonna carry me away

Chorus

Bridge:

Well, I don't know but I been told
The streets of heaven are paved in gold
If I wait till then I'll be too damn old
So the river gonna carry me away

So, I'm going on down (I'm going on down)
To the riverside (to the riverside)
Gonna get me a boat (gonna get me a boat)
And I a-gonna ride (I'm a-gonna ride)
I'm going on down to the riverside
Get me a boat and I'm a-gonna ride
Float on down in freedom's tide
When the river gonna carry me away

Chorus

©1988 by John McCutcheon. Published by Appalsongs (ASCAP).

Heaven Help
John McCutcheon & Tom Chapin

Tom: vocal & guitar
John: piano
Bobby: soprano sax
Michael: bass

Heaven help the one. Heaven help the two.
Heaven help me say these things I need to say to you.
It seems a simple thing to tell you what I feel,
But I'm stumbling and I'm staggering over what I know is real.

Back when we were young, just a boy and girl,
It seems like we had all the time and chances in the world.
A graduation gown into a wedding dress,
A garden in the backyard and a baby at your breast.
This world we made of love and flesh and bone
Grew up and walked out the door and made worlds of their own.

So here we are again as the river flows on,
This house feels like a coat too big with the children grown and gone.
And now we're left alone, just me, just you.
All this space to find ourselves, I guess it's overdue.
After all these years you'd think I'd have a name.
For the mystery that keeps this heart and life aflame

Come take my hand. Come take my heart.
Come take me to that place where you and I can start.
Let the lights go down. Let the days grow dim
Though all the world may turn you out, I will take you in.

Heaven help the one. Heaven help the two.

©1996 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs & Tom Chapin/ The Last Music Co. (ASCAP)

The Older I Get
John McCutcheon & Tom Chapin

John: vocal & guitar
Tom: vocal & electric guitar
Bobby: harmony vocal & saxophone
Michael: harmony vocal & bass
Special guest Jon Cobert on piano

John—Came home from my twenty-fifth high school reunion and this had to come out...

I had a '63 Chevy, dual carbs and four on the floor.
A chopped 396, hear the hormones and the engines roar.
Me and my buddies cruising around
We were picking 'em up and shutting 'em down.
You know, I owned every back street in that little farm town.

We were young, we were, lean we were seventeen,
Living on weekends and gasoline.
Everytime I think about it I still get a buzz
The older I get, you know, the better I was,
The older I get, you know, the better I was.

I had a Fender Stratocaster and an amp turned up to ten.
We only knew three chords, but that was OK then.
The music was loud and the girls were hot,
A bone and bottle in the parking lot
Was the closest to the big time that we ever got.

We were young, we were lean, we were seventeen
Living on Hendrix, the Stones, and Cream.
Everytime I think about it I still get a buzz
The older I get, you know, the better I was,
The older I get, you know, the better I was,

Bridge

I never felt so new, never loved so true,
You are my only one.
A shooting star in the back of the car,
A total eclipse of the fun.

Now it's been twenty five years since we raced those cars in the street
And the band was bitchin' but now I dance to a different beat.
My high school girl is my twenty year bride,
I got a mini-van with the kids inside.
I tell you, Tom, it's really been a long, strange ride

Since we were young we were lean we were seventeen
Living in the fever of a young man's dream
Everytime I think about it I still get a buzz
The older I get, you know, the better I was
The older I get, you know, the better I was

©1996 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs & Tom Chapin/Last Chance Music (ASCAP)

Starlight
Words & music by John McCutcheon

John: vocal & guitar
Tom: harmony vocal & electric guitar
Bobby: harmony vocal & piano
Michael: harmony vocal & bass

John—Written for my mother-in-law, Rosemary Monagan, on her 70th birthday.

When the sky was new and the night was endless
And the world and we were young
The old ones strung the stars into stories
And a tale took every tongue
"See the North Star and the Great Bear
There's Orion, the hunter, on the horizon over there
Every once in a while he lets fly an arrow
And in the darkness some lost star is hurled" And they sang...

Chorus

Starlight, star bright
First star that I see tonight
I wish I may I wish I might
Have my dreams come true
(Repeat)

Out on the sea, with her sails a-billow,
A ship plows a lonely line
Out on the foredeck the eye of a sailor
Searches the heavens for a sign
"If I sight true and I sail right
"Keep the Cross on my shoulder and Polaris in sight
"We'll be safe in the harbor tomorrow night!"
The moon, like a beacon, does shine

Chorus

And so, tonight, like some homesick sailor,
We too search the heavens for a sign
And, like my mother's own mother, I trace out the stories
To this young voyageur at my side
And we reach out and we dream long
We tell our tales, we sing our songs
And, like ancient stargazers, we travel along
On this midnight mystery ride

Chorus

And it's one world and one sky
We get one time we get one try
And each generation it's the same question, "Why?"

Chorus

©1996 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)

Welcome the Traveler Home
Words & music by John McCutcheon

John: vocal & autoharp
Tom: vocal & 12-string guitar
Bobby: piano
Michael: harmony vocal & bass

John—Written for the Twenty Fifth Walnut Valley Festival in Winfield, KS.

Though dark is the night
And narrow the way
Though the tempest may rage
And chill to the bone
Still the promise is bright
Like a beacon of light
That will welcome the traveler home

Chorus

Welcome the traveler home
As out in this wide world
We wander alone
Though our ways twist and bend
We know in the end
We will welcome the traveler home

Though late is the hour
And long is the road
And I stumble and stray
From the path I have known
But for this prodigal son
The long journey's done
When you welcome the traveler home

Chorus

Bridge

The winds they may bellow
The seas they may rise
Like ships on the deep
Far from shore
We look for the harbor
We look to the skies
For the wide open heart
And the wide open door

Now five years and twenty
Here gathered again:
A harvest so ripe
From the seeds we have sown
Five and twenty years more
Still our spirits will soar
As we welcome the traveler home

Chorus

©1996 John McCutcheon/Appalsongs (ASCAP)