Wait Some More It’s only been a few days now But that old familiar feeling’s coming on strong It’s hard when you’re fishing, cause I’m always missing you And weeks just can’t go fast enough for me Our daughters are getting older You know every stage is precious They’re laughing and they’re smiling But they’re starting to notice That there’s something missing from our home I hope the wind stays calm so the fishing will be strong I hope it blows a storm, so you can come on home It’s so hard to know what to hope for I’ll have to wait some more I know that your have our pictures by your bunk And you dream of us at night I lie awake in fright, and sometimes hold my pillow tight And pray you’ll make it safely back to me © 2001 Coral Palm  Coral Palm - lead & harmony vocals, guitar Dave Hurwitz - mandolin, background vocal John Armstrong -harmonica Peter Moffat -fiddle Jim Spalding - bass

 
 

The Jealous Lover She dressed herself in men’s attire, and so gaily she was dressed A-thinking to meet her own true love, the one that she loved best But when he saw her a-coming, well he cried out ‘Who is there?’ It is my eldest brother, a-thinking to meet my dear But how soon shall I deceive him for his butcher I will be He shall never live to enjoy my love, nor yet to bother me He fired right at him as he thought, well he saw his loved one fall And in her tender bosom, oh, he lodged a fatal ball ‘I fall, I fall, I fall’ cried she, ‘I fall unto the ground’ ‘Oh, Jimmy, cruel Jimmy you have given me my death wound’ ‘Come look at the crimson tide that from my bleeding heart does flow’ ‘Oh, Jimmy, cruel Jimmy, oh, how could you treat me so?’ And when he saw what he had done, well he tore his loving hair Another loaded pistol for himself he did repair. ‘I shall die for the love of Mary, I will die for the love of she’ ‘Come all you bold lads and bold lassies, be aware of jealousy’ Traditional, Arrangement © 2001 Bill Morrison  Bill Morrison - lead vocal, guitar Peter Moffat - fiddle, background vocal Dave Hurwitz - rhythm mandolin John Armstrong - bodhran Andre Sperling - accordion Jim Spalding - bass Rob Thoms -  mandolin & guitar solos

Spruce Bug I’m a little spruce bug Happy as can be Someday I’ll get married Build my nest up in a tree Oh I may not be too handsome And I may not be too bright But I betcha I’ll get some lovin’ When the moon comes up tonight So shine on Mister Moonlight in the sky Shine bright tonight on my love and I Well I’m a-hopin’ and a-prayin’ she’ll come Sneaking through the blue Shine bright on my heart’s delight She’s my little spruce bug too Was a little spruce bug He was way out on a limb All the other spruce bugs Well they just laughed at him He don’t care how much they laugh Or what they have to say Listen and I’ll tell you What this little bug did say . . . I’m a little spruce bug . . . ©1951 Buddy Reynolds, Sharrell Publications Ltd.,  (SOCAN/BMI) Arrangement © 2001 Peter Moffat Pete Moffat - lead vocal, fiddle  John Armstrong - guitar Dave Hurwitz - mandolin Bill Morrison - banjo, background vocal Coral Palm - background vocal Andre Sperling - accordion Mike Thatcher - washtub

Spruce Bug was recorded by Buddy Reynolds at Aragon Studio in Vancouver in 1952.
Pete’s dad used to play it in his old-time band and taught to Pete when he was five.
We recently found one of the original ‘78's on EBay.

Drunkest Deckhand Yesterday the crabbin’ stunk, deckhand’s goin’ on a two week drunk I might never go out again, so you can pick our traps ‘til then Cause we’re tied up down in Tofino town On the slowest little boat in the bay And I’m wonderin’ if it will take him all day To drink all that he made Yeah, he’s the drunkest deckhand in the whole Pacific fleet He’ll never miss a day to fish, he’d even go for free He’s got a good working woman, and she keeps him out at sea Cause he’s drunk when he wakes up and he’s drunk when he goes to sleep Well, we’re tied up down in Vancouver town On the morning we sold and got paid And I’m wonderin’ if it will take him all day To drink all that he made Yeah, he’s the drunkest deckhand in the whole Pacific fleet I often stop and wonder why he still goes out with me Cause he giggles at nothin’ which sometimes bothers me Is he giddy from the liquor, or just laughin’ at me? Now we’re tied up down in Victoria town With my Venus of Gonzales Bay And I’m wonderin’ if he can pump out my bilge For at least a couple more days Yeah, he’s the drunkest deckhand in the whole Pacific fleet I often stop and wonder why he still goes out with me Cause he giggles at nothin’ which sometimes bothers me Is he giddy from the liquor, or just laughin’ at me? Oh, yesterday the crabbin’ stunk, deckhand’s goin’ on a two week drunk I might never go out again, so you can pick our traps ‘til then. Oh, yesterday the crabbin’ stunk, I ain’t gettin’ out of this warm bunk Wake me up about half past four, I’ll try to make it to the liquor store Now we’re tied up down in Tofino town It’s blowin’ and startin’ to rain And I’m wonderin’ if it will take him all day To drink all that he made © 2001 Dave Hurwitz Dave Hurwitz - lead vocal, mandolin John Armstrong - guitar Peter Moffat - fiddle Mike Thatcher - washtub Andre Sperling - accordion Bill Morrison - kazoo Tony Toly - drums

(My Gal Left Me For a) Geoduck Clam Oh, my gal left me for Geoduck Clam A creature from the bottom of the sea When my gal fell in love with a Geoduck Clam I knew that was it for me Oh, I tried so hard but I couldn’t compete Cause a bivalve mollusc knocked her off of her feet When my gal gotta taste of a Geoduck Clam That was the end of me Now you might be wonderin’ how this came about So I’ll tell you how it happened and I hope that you don’t doubt That the story is one of hard luck, sweat and toil We were paddlin’ our kayaks on a sunny afternoon We were feeling kinda hungry for a taste of seafood When we spotted a diver hauling up his spoils Now a geoduck clam is a funny looking creature In the shellfish world it’s the king of filter-feeders Got a 4' projection that would make any diver blush It lives in the mud at the bottom of the ocean With a telescopic siphon of admirable proportions That spews out its salty contents with a gush Now that woman had an eye for unusual treats She was looking for something quite special to eat She said ‘Tell me sir, what have you got in your hold?’ He tossed her a sample of his finest cuisine She didn’t know where to put it so she shoved it between Her shivering knees then she paddled off toward the shore Now a geoduck clam is a sensual pleasure With a slippery surface but crunchy inner texture Worth a premium price on the markets of Chinatown When my darling made off with her newest sensation Well, I’ll leave the rest to your imagination But I’ll tell you one thing, that gal could not be found © 2001 John Armstrong  John Armstrong - lead vocal, guitar The Clamtones - Coral, Bill, Pete, Mike - background vocals Dave Hurwitz - mandolin Jim Spalding - bass Tony Toly - drums

Click on the geoduck fisherman to find out his secrets ... (mpeg video)

Geoduck recipes

Gooseneck Barnacle Pickers The gooseneck barnacle pickers, they mine the open rocks They’re the drunken bastards of the fleet At the end of the Fourth St. dock They party on the Neepawa, for the iron bar they slave And praise the intertidal zone in Turtle’s floating cave And they’ll drink & they’ll drink & they’ll drink And they’ll smoke, drink ‘til there is no more Flip a coin, pool their bucks, Jake’s off to the liquor store But it’s the only thing I dream and sleep and hope and wish That we could find another thing to talk about than fish Ne’er they’ll keep the company of a fine Tofino maid They’re always tethered to the dock a-waitin’ to be paid But there’s nothing more exciting than goosin’ in the surf For the closer to the water line, the more you pickin’s worth But the gooseneck pickers and their mighty fleet Of 9.9’s and tin, they sail into the dark of night To God knows where they’ve been But every year some brave young lad gets washed away to sea So raise a drink and make a toast to their fond memory So if you’ve got a bottle and you’d rather puke than eat There’s a party waiting to break out right underneath your feet Cause the gooseneck barnacle pickers mine the open rocks They’re the drunken bastards of the fleet At the end of that phuggin’ dock © 2001 Dave Hurwitz  Dave Hurwitz - lead vocal, mandolin John Armstrong - guitar Peter Moffat -fiddle Mike Thatcher - washtub Andre Sperling - accordion Clamtones Pete, Bill, John, Mike - background vocals Tony Toly - drums, bottles

In Years From Now Sitting here all alone, thinking about the future What does tomorrow bring? Will we be friends, will we be friends In years from now? What am I to do when I get older? Where am I to live and who am I to know? How will the world think, how will the world think In years from now Will we have won the battle of saving our planet? Will we have come together and taught our kids to see? It really makes me wonder, it really makes me wonder About the years from now It really makes me wonder, it really makes me wonder About the years from now Let’s come together, and try our hardest Let’s leave something for our kids to see There’s a lot we can do, there’s a lot we can do For the years to come Let’s leave something for our kids to see There’s a lot we can do, there’s a lot we can do For the years to come, for the years to come There’s a lot we can do . . . © 2001 Coral Palm  Coral Palm - lead vocal, guitars Dave Hurwitz - mandolin John Armstrong - harmonica Jim Spalding - bass Tony Toly - drums

 

Jim Jones Come and listen for a moment lads and hear me tell me tale How across the sea from England I was condemned to sail Oh the jury found me guilty and says the judge says he “Oh for life Jim Jones I’m sending you across the stormy sea So take a tip before you ship to join the iron gang Don’t get too gay in Botany Bay or else you’ll surely hang Or else you’ll surely hang,” he says....“And after that Jim Jones It’s high up upon the gallows tree the crows will pick your bones ” Well our ship was high upon the waves when pirates came along But the soldiers on our convict ship were full five hundred strong Oh they opened fire and somehow drove that pirate ship away But I’d rather’ve joined that pirate ship than gone to Botany Bay With the storms a-ragin’ round us and the winds a--blowin’ gales I’d rather’ve drowned in misery than gone to New South Wales There’s no time for mischief there they say, remember that says they Or they’ll flog the poachin’ out of you down there in Botany Bay Well it’s day and night the irons clang and like poor galley slaves Oh we toil and toil and when we die must fill dishonoured graves But it’s bye and bye I’ll slip me chains and to the bush I’ll go And I’ll join the brave bush rangers there Jack Donohue &Co. And some dark night when everything is silent in the town I’ll shoot the tyrants one and all, I’ll gun the floggers down Oh I’ll give the law no little shock, remember what I say Oh they’ll yet regret they sent Jim Jones in chains to Botany Bay © Mick Slocum, Image Music Pty Ltd (ASCAP) Arranged by Bill Morrison Bill Morrison - lead vocal, guitar Andre Sperling - accordion

 

Clamdigger Oh the beaches, the bays, oh the mudflats and such Well they all made the way for these entrepreneurs They came in their punts with their overnight packs And they all bring a foamy ‘cause they all got bad backs Clamdigger, clamdigger, rise up and be strong The evenin’ is here & there’s work to be done With your rake and your bucket and your old gas light Oh to shift a few tons of this bivalve delight Well the storms & the tides they got buried so deep That in death, if not life, they’ll see clams in their sleep But they lived a good life off the clams & the rice But they never get lucky ’cause they always work nights Well the money they made, oh they never could save Cigarettes & the bottle, to them they were slaves And they never drank water, no, whiskey by pints And the shanty towns rang with their songs & their fights Now the Fisheries say we can’t dig in these bays Stripped all of the babies from the beds where they lay Now we work the daytime, pick up bottles like swine Cause a clam’s worth a nickel but a can’s worth a dime lyric by Dave Hurwitz © 2001, music by Phil Gaston - ‘Navigator’ © Omagas Publishing Co. (SOCAN/BMI) Dave Hurwitz - lead vocal, mandolin Bill Morrison - guitar Andre Sperling - accordion Mike Thatcher - washtub Peter Moffat - fiddle The Clamtones - Bill, Pete, Mike, John, Coral - vocals

 

Estevan Reef We’ll take your boat and sink it You won’t be fishing ’round here no more, boys Some of these folks from outta town Gonna vacuum the ocean floor In my life ... But the fisheries boys throw their hands in the air Like they finished a Broadway show Oh, if they don’t catch them cheaters soon I’ll be up north shoveling snow Up north shoveling snow But the DFO ain’t got no teeth And they never seem to leave the dock Cause they give free tours on the Estevan Reef And Johnny can take a walk, yeah, Johnny takes a walk I’m an ethical man in this free land And I’m always doing my best If you only fished for the big hard meals And you threw back all the rest All your life ... So let’s take their boat and we’ll sink it They’re not looking round here no more, boys Some of these boys from out of town Gonna vacuum the ocean floor In my life, in my life ... © 2001 Dave Hurwitz  Dave Hurwitz - lead vocal*, guitar* Coral Palm - background vocal*, guitar* John Armstrong - bodhran Bill Morrison - mandolin Peter Moffat - fiddle Mike Thatcher - washtub *Tracks recorded and mixed at John Armstrong’s house, Tofino, BC in 1994 on 4-track Tascam Portastudio  Additional tracks recorded at Sundog Studio, Ucluelet, BC in 2001

The Mermaid It was Friday morn when we set sail And we were not far from the land When our captain he spied a lovely mermaid With a comb and a glass in her hand And the ocean waves do roll And the stormy winds do blow, blow, blow And we poor sailors are slavin’ at the top While the land-lubbers lie down below, below, below While the land-lubbers lie down below Then up spoke the captain of our gallant ship And a fine-spoken man was he He said “This fishy mermaid has warned me of our doom We shall sink to the bottom of the sea ” Then up spoke the mate of our gallant ship And a bold young man was he “Oh, I have a wife in Portsmouth town But a widow I fear she will be ” Then up spoke the cook of our gallant ship And a greasy old butcher was he “Oh, I care much more for me kettles and me pans Than I do for the roaring of the sea ” Then up spoke the cabin-boy of our gallant ship And a pretty little boy was he “Oh, I am more grieved for me mammy and me daddy Than for your wives all three ” Then three times round spun our gallant ship And three times round went she And the very last time that she spun around She sank to the bottom of the sea Traditional, Arrangement © 2001 John Armstrong John Armstrong - narrator, guitar Bill Morrison - captain, banjo Dave Hurwitz - mate, mandolin Mike Thatcher - cook Coral Palm - cabin boy Peter Moffat - fiddle Andre Sperling - accordion Jim Spalding - bass Tony Toly - drums, spoons

 

Midnight On The Water Instrumental - Texas waltz © Luke Thomasson, Wynwood Music Arrangement © Pete Moffat 2001 Peter Moffat - fiddle Andre Sperling - accordion John Armstrong - guitar

 

About the recording Recording took place at Sundog Studios, Ucluelet, BC, 2001,  except track 11, vocals & guitars, recorded at John’s place, Tofino, BC 1994  and drum tracks, recorded at WireWorks Digital Recording engineer:  Robert Thoms Produced and mixed by the Bottomfeeders and Robert Thoms Final mix & mastering by Regan Myers and John Armstrong at WireWorks Digital, Parksville, BC Layout & Typesetting by Paul Harris, Word Works Typographic, Victoria, BC Cover Photo: Marilyn McEwan, Aperture Overtures, Ucluelet, BC Other Photos: Johanne Loiselle, Adrienne Mason, Bill Morrison, Mike Thatcher,  Rob Thoms, Rod Palm

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