Read Jennifer Denison's review in the November 2011 issue of
Western Horseman.
Listen to selelcted songs on Ray's MySpace page.
Shop CDs & MP3 downloads at Ray's CD Baby store or on iTunes.
Or you can buy The Emigrant Trail CD directly from Ray!
Send your check for a mere $18 (postage included) to:
Ray Doyle, PO Box 11954, Costa Mesa, CA 92627
(and don't forget to order an extra copy for a friend!)
Recordings and reviews.
Selected lyrics:
The Jewel
There’s a place upon this good green earth
like nowhere else you’ve ever seen
where misty mountains soar above, majestic and serene
clear and gentle waters flow, past grazing elk and buffalo
like a picture from the past, inside a dream
But sleeping restless deep below the summer sun and winter snow
there lies a secret waiting to be told
and with a shudder and a rumble wakes,
as pulses race and timber shakes
like they did as mighty ages rolled
It’s the meeting of the water and the fire
a merging of a heaven and a hell
a land of wonder and surprise
where water flows up to the skies
a place of sulfur, smoke and ash
where god must surely dwell
If you believe in heaven high
then you should go before you die
and see the jewel we call Yellowstone
If I could paint a canvas right
like Remington or Russell might
you’d see my little picture bright and true
But I’ve just got words to close the deal
a piece of wood and strings of steel
this postcard sent with love, from me to you
It’s the meeting of the water and the fire
a merging of a heaven and a hell
a land of wonder and surprise
where water flows up to the skies
a place of sulfur, smoke and ash
where God must surely dwell
If you believe in heaven high
then you should go before you die
and see the jewel we call Yellowstone
and see this jewel we call Yellowstone
© 2007, Ray Doyle, All rights reserved; from The Emigrant Trail
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
____________________
The Emigrant Trail
I was born in Kilkenny, one of the many
the ones who left homeland, family and friends
with a desperate notion to cross the wild ocean
for a brand new beginning or a desperate end
At thirty days sailing came the wind and the wailing.
the sea was a churning, black, bottomless well.
Mid the moaning and screaming I wished I was dreaming.
we might as well have been all going to Hell
Who will be sacrificed? Who will be saved?
Who is foolhardy and who are the brave?
Many may perish, but some will prevail.
There’s hope at the end of the Emigrant Trail
I came to your city for work, not for pity
and not to be told my kind “need not apply”
So I labored in slavery, saved what they gave me,
And rode my own horse to Montana’s big sky.
I'd heard every story of riches and glory…
At the grand Anaconda a man could go far.
But soon I had traded my pride and my wages
For faro and opium, brothel and bar.
Who will be sacrificed? Who will be saved?
Who is foolhardy and who are the brave?
Many may perish, but some will prevail
There’s hope at the end of the Emigrant Trail
I fought off my troubles with picks and with shovels,
in mines and in trenches from Dublin to Butte.
Now it’s hard to believe in the Garden of Eden
while helping the Devil to harvest his fruit
Who will be sacrificed? Who will be saved?
Who is foolhardy and who are the brave?
Many may perish, but some will prevail
There’s hope at the end of the Emigrant Trail
© 2007, Ray Doyle, All rights reserved; from The Emigrant Trail
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
____________________
The Jigger Boss
Chorus
Dig, me boys, and shout hooray
the jigger boss is on his way
We’ll get an extra dram today
and nothing if we dally
They promised that they’d pay us well
to dig a bloody great canal
from the Hudson to the gates of Hell
all down the Mohawk Valley
(chorus)
We hoist the hod and swing the pick
‘til mouth is dry and tongue is thick
The water only makes us sick
and so they give us whiskey
Remember what the foreman said
the cholera will kill you dead
So if you want to live instead
you’d better drink your whiskey
(chorus)
Another hour, another sup
a dirty jug, and an old tin cup
Enough to keep our spirits up
from Hudson to Lake Erie
We work in heat we work in snow
and every twenty feet we go
We plant three men six feet below
all down the Mohawk Valley
(chorus)
© 2007, Ray Doyle, All rights reserved; from The Emigrant Trail
These words may not be reprinted or reposted without the author's written permission.
