I’m a carpenter by trade, for a solid union wage 
for contractors we build up the Twin Cities
And as summers come and went, my apprenticeship was spent 
Raising bridges across the Mississippi 
But before my station rose, I was deckhand on the tows
And the river and I have an understanding 
That I stay tied off up here, and away from her keep clear 
But if I fall she’ll mangle me on landing 

Chorus
I’ve built bridges and the byways from the river to the highways
Above the river and the traffic rolling 
 I’ve raised scaffolding and forms til my boots were wrecked and worn 
Now I whistle ‘cross the bridges as I’m strollin’

We were working in the sleet on the deck below 3rd street
And when break time came my bro took off his yo-yo
Then it whipped around and sped, and it clipped me in the head
And damn near left my partner working solo
I hung over the edge, ‘bove the waterfall and ledge
And the killer yo-yo snapped back to its anchor 
Thank God I still had mine and it held me on the line 
Lucky as the richest Wall Street banker 

When 10th street was re-decked, the whole span was almost wrecked 
When they tried to pull the Quik-Shield ‘cross the river 
We stretched cables there and back, and ratcheted the slack 
So tight that the steel would barely quiver 
Then we threw the deck on top, ‘til we got the word to stop
For the engineers re-did their calculations 
And the tension and the weight would pull the piers down straight 
And earn us all a ticket to damnation

One day as I built brackets I was startled by a racket 
Of a half a ton of treated timber landing
when a stack of 4x4s tumbled down 3 floors 
and fell onto the spot where I’d been standin’
Well the men up top were hushed for they figured I was crushed 
And the man who cut the bundle took the blame 
Be no sin, if I were pissed, but I shouted up “You missed!”
 And I hollered at the man to mind his aim 

Buildin’ spans from rim to rim we risked our lives and limbs
To keep the Minneapolis bridges standin’
So no more tragic days will come our city’s way
When infrastructure upkeep is abandoned 
From Northeast to the South Side they’re each my joy and pride 
Risin’ up above the city’s rubble 
For fortune took her shots, and I’ve taken all my knocks 
And taken home the paycheck for my trouble

Minneapolis Bridges

A ballad from my writing file, "Solarpunk Songs", which is split into two categories: Songs about the ecological and social general crisis, and songs about an eco-syndicalist, communalist, social anarchist future.

I was inspired to write this song by reading an article on the threats facing the Irish Hare, and the fact that the hare lived in Ireland before the retreat of the glaciers in the last ice age- longer, then, even than the mythical peoples of the Book of Invasions and earlier than the first known humans on the island. 

Information on the Irish Hare's preservation can be found here- 
https://hare-preservation-trust.com/

lyrics and chords (this rendition was played down a whole step, in Dm, on a DADGAD tuned guitar, a bodhran, and a C whistle, recorded on the Soundtrap website with a Yeti mic)

Em  D G D
We’ve been run to ground by hawk or by hound, and paid the reward in our blood
Em D Em D Em 
In valley or bog we’ve slipped from the dog, and made away into the wood
G D Em Bm
We’ve sheltered our den in the high mountain glen and traveled the valleys so wide
Em D Bm Em D Em 
No gun and no snare can turn back the hare that runs on the mountain side

We ran in the ice and we ran in the snow, and the winter that never saw spring
That lay on the moors, more lifetimes ago, than the bards had the language to sing
Along the salt sea we ran wild and free, the first that it turned on the tide
And slept in the roots of the first of the trees, that grew on the mountainside 

We were long before Balor of the one eye, long before Brigid and fire, 
And long before Oisin’s arrow let fly and hobbled the queen of the briar 
But now the old ways are passed for this ilk, now they would butcher your hide
They give us the blame for souring the milk, when they graze on the mountainside  

They’ve hewn the hazel and hewn the oak and carried them down the sea,  
The great iron wagons turn over the fields where once that we used to run free
And higher and higher up over the hills, the wagons breathe smoke as they ride, 
Until there’s nowhere that’s left for the hare to run on the mountainside

Complaint Of The Irish Hare (Demo 1)

Folk musician, carpenter, and anarchist. Former member of the Wooden Shoe Ramblers. 
Website: https://edoylemusic.weebly.com/
Bandcamp: https://emmettdoyle.bandcamp.com/album/rust-belt-ballads
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/emmettdoyle
WSR: https://woodenshoeramblers.bandcamp.com/releases

Complaint Of The Irish Hare (Demo 1)

Emmett Doyle

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