Contrasting a vocal slur with tied notes, extending the vocal range with ascending and descending tonic arpeggios. Carrying over through the mid-phrase rest will strengthen breath control.
Description |
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- Grade: Third
- Origin: USA - Folk Song, attributed to Francis D. Henry cir. 1874
- Key: E flat Major
- Time: 3/4
- Form: AaBa - eight measure phrases
- Rhythm: beginners: | ta ta ta | ta ta/a |
| ta (ta) ta | ta/a/a |
- Pitches: intermediate: So La Do Re Mi So La Ti Do
- Intervals: intermediate: So/Do, Do/Mi, Do/Mi/So ascending tonic arpeggio, So\Mi\Do descending tonic arpeggio, Mi\La, Do8\So\Mi descending tonic arpeggio
- Musical Elements: notes: dotted half, half, quarter; rest: quarter; pickup beat, tied notes, vocal slur, tonic arpeggio
- Key Words: USA geography - Puget Sound, Washington, Salish Sea, USA western expansion, gold mining, prospecting, cradled, frequently, tunneled, wealthy, hundreds, digging, sure, grub, blanket, tools, morning, shank, country, ambition, laugh, condition, surrounded, acres, clams; abbreviation: hydraulic'd (hydrauliced); contraction: I've (I have)
Same tune as "Old Rosin the Beau" cir. 1830's, and "Lay of the Old Settler."
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"Acres of Clams"
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1. |
I've wandered all over this country,
Prospecting and digging for gold;
I've tunneled, hydraulic'd, and cradled,
This story I've frequently told,
This story I've frequently told,
This story I've frequently told;
I've tunneled, hydraulic'd, and cradled,
This story I've frequently told. |
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2. |
For one who got wealthy by mining,
I saw many hundreds get poor,
I made up my mind to go digging,
For something a little more sure,
For something a little more sure,
For something a little more sure;
I made up my mind to go digging,
For something a little more sure. |
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3. |
I rolled up my grub in my blanket,
I left all my tools on the ground,
I started one morning to shank it,
For the country they call Puget Sound,
For the country they call Puget Sound,
For the country they call Puget Sound;
I started one morning to shank it,
For the country they call Puget Sound. |
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4. |
No longer a slave of ambition,
I laugh at the world and its shams,
And I think of my happy condition,
Surrounded by Acres of Clams,
Surrounded by Acres of Clams,
Surrounded by Acres of Clams;
And I think of my happy condition,
Surrounded by Acres of Clams. |
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