One night I dreamed I was in slavery, 'bout 1850 was the time
Sorrow was the only sign, nothing around to ease my mind
Out of the night there came a lady leading a distant pilgrim band
"First mate!" she yelled, pointing her hand
"Make room on board for this young woman"
Come on up, mm-mm, I got a lifeline
Come on up to this train of mine
Come on up, mm-mm, I got a lifeline
Come on up to this train of mine
She said her name was Harriet Tubman
And she drove for the Underground Railroad
Hundreds of miles we travelled onward gathering slaves from town to town
Seeking every lost and found, setting those free that once were bound
Somehow my heart was growin ' weaker, I fell by the wayside sinking sand
Proudly did this woman stand, she lifted me up and took my hand
Come on up, mm-mm, I got a lifeline
Come on up to this train of mine
Come on up, mm-mm, I got a lifeline
Come on up to this train of mine
Who are these children dressed in red?
They must be the ones that Moses led
Who are these children dressed in red?
They must be the ones that Moses led
Come on up, mm-mm, I got a lifeline
Come on up to this train of mine
Come on up, mm-mm, I got a lifeline
Come on up to this train of mine
She said her name was Harriet Tubman
And she drove for the Underground Railroad.
Born circa 1820 into slavery in Maryland, Harriet became the most famous conductor on the figurative Underground Railroad, basically a series of safe houses from the South through non-slave Northern states and into Canada. On foot when necessary but primarily in wagons, she made 19 trips over a decade, saving some 300 slaves, none of whom were recaptured. Clever, resourceful, determined, she would dose crying babies with perigoric to quiet them, issue orders like a military commander and threaten those who panicked and wanted to go back with a pistol, saying, "You'll be free or die." Suffering recurring blackouts throughout her life after being struck in the head as a child by an overseer, there was a $40,000 price on her head. When the Civil War came, she joined the Union becoming a spy and leading an expedition, likely the only woman to do either. She became an active abolitionist, suffragist and in her later years founded a home for indigent elderly. These are only the highlights of the life of a woman who amazed all those who knew her, who helped John Brown arrange the raid on Harper's Ferry and would have been there were it not for illness. She died in 1913 of pneumonia and only after her death did the country begin to acknowledge her greatness and the unique role she played in our history Composer/lyricist Walter Robinson did a superb job in capturing the essence of this extraordinary human being in his opus "Harriet Tubman". I am still dismayed that she wasn't mentioned in my history books; not until my children came home with her story did I learn of her. Oh well, a woman, a black woman at that - should I be surprised that it took awhile for her to appear on the radar?
Lyric + music by Harry Woods (1931)
You keep goin' your way, I'll keep goin' my way
River, stay 'way from my door
I just got a cabin, you don't need my cabin
River, stay 'way from my door
Don't come up any higher, I'm so all alone
Leave my bed and my fire, that's all I own
I ain't breakin' your heart
Don't start breakin' my heart
River, stay 'way from my door
Don't come up any higher, I'm so all alone
Leave my bed and my fire, that's all I own
I ain't breakin' your heart
Don't start breakin' my heart
River, stay way from my door
Harry Woods, pianist,composer and lyricist of several well-known songs, sometimes collaborating with the biggest names in the music and movie business - I'm Looking Over A Four Leaf Clover, Try A Little Tenderness, When The Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along, Paddlein' Madeleine Home, etal, was an interesting, if not altogether pleasant, fellow. Born without fingers on his left hand, his mother, a concert singer, insisted he learn to play. He did and earned a living at it! He obtained a Bachelor's from Harvard and began composing, too. He was a practicing alcoholic, violent and, considered by some, dangerous. Once, while fighting a man in a bar, holding him down with his good right hand and pummeling his face with the stump of his left hand, a woman asked, "Who is that horrible man?". A friend of Harry's answered, "Why, that's Harry Woods; he wrote "Try a Little Tenderness."
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