Numbers On Lemons

by The Woodsheep

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    A CD for the EP "Numbers On Lemons" featuring artwork from Rachel Craft.

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about

When life gives you lemons, share them!

credits

released January 26, 2019

Andrew Preston - guitar, banjo, piano/synth, ukulele, B. toys Meowsic, vocals
Melissa Caskey - bass, vocals
Matt Holleran - drums
Wyatt Smith - whistling, vocals

Denise Barbee - backing vocals (3)
Shayna Blackburn - backing vocals (2)
Megan Gregory - fiddle (3,4)
Raymond McLain - fiddle (2,3)
Leanna Price - fiddle (3)

Rachel Craft - artwork
Mary Morris - package design, layout
Jesse Wells - additional engineering (2)

Recorded by Andrew and Matt at:
The Kentucky Center for Traditional Music
The Fuzzy Duck Coffee Shop
CoffeeTree Books
Matt's House
The Wicked Peace House

Produced, mixed, and mastered by Andrew Preston at the Kentucky Center for Traditional Music. (Jesse Wells helped. A lot.)

1. "Numbers On Lemons"
- Andrew Preston, Woodsheep Music (BMI)
2. "Nobody's Business"
- Porter Grainger & Jimmy Witherspoon, public domain
3. "The Left Cat"
- Andrew Preston, Woodsheep Music (BMI)
4. "茉莉花 (Mò Li Huā)" (translated as "Jasmine Flower")
- traditional Chinese
5. "The Mountain Wayfarers"
- Andrew Preston, Woodsheep Music (BMI)

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The Woodsheep Morehead, Kentucky

With frontman Andrew Preston’s whimsical songwriting, a collective of musicians, and their quirky live shows, The Woodsheep have become among the most recognizable mainstays of Appalachia’s burgeoning indie scene. Among their hallmarks: soaring harmonies, offbeat instrumentation, literarily dense lyrics steeped in folk storytelling tradition, all balanced by a healthy penchant for the absurd. ... more

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Track Name: Numbers On Lemons
I've sold numbers on lemons, but all the people want is a little bit of lemonade.
All they really want is a better day.
Track Name: Nobody's Business
If I should take a notion, I'd go right down, jump in the ocean.
Ain't nobody's business if I do.
If my man ain't got no money and I say "take all mine, honey",
ain't nobody's business if I do.

Well, it's nobody's dirty business how my baby treats me.
Ain't nobody's business what I do.

If I go to church on Sunday and get drunk all day Monday,
ain't nobody's business if I do.
If I have chicken and dumplins', yeah, and the next day, I don't have nothin',
ain't nobody's business if I do.

If I stay out all night spendin' my money, well, that's alright,
because it ain't nobody's business if I do.
If I should take a notion, I'd go right down, jump in the ocean.
Ain't nobody's business if I do.
Track Name: The Left Cat
The cat on the left
is no better than the cat on the right,
and the cat in the west
knows that west is just a spatially relative side.

There are North cats, East cats,
cats down South,
and in the center? Cats.
And they all just meow the same.
It's a cat kind of game.

I have a friend. (She's a cat.)
And she told me, "we do not wonder if we're doing good,
if we're behaving the way cats should.
We're just chasing the pigeons in the park
when they're playing by the woods."

And when she turns the corner, oh, I know
there's the left cat. The left cat.
Track Name: 茉莉花 (Mò Li Huā)
好一朵美丽的茉莉花
好一朵美丽的茉莉花

芬芳美丽满枝桠
又香又白人人夸

让我来将你摘下
送给别人家

茉莉花呀茉莉花

English translation:

A good, beautiful jasmine flower
A good, beautiful jasmine flower
Sweet-smelling, beautiful, stems full of buds
Fragrant and white, everyone praises
Let me pluck you down
Give to someone
Jasmine flower, oh jasmine flower

Pinyin:

hǎo yī duǒ měi lì de mò li huā
hǎo yī duǒ měi lì de mò li huā
fēn fāng měi lì mǎn zhī yā
yòu xiāng yòu bái rén rén kuā
ràng wǒ lái jiāng nǐ zhāi xià
sòng gěi bié rén jiā
mòlihuā ya mòlihuā
Track Name: The Mountain Wayfarers
I know when I grow old
I'll grow like hazel in the cold, wet snow.
I did not foresee a lonesome soul,
who'd melt me even when the cold wind blows.

A voice as deep as the river runs,
he told me, “Sir, I've lost my gun,
I've lost my home and my stores are none.
I'm wayfarer with the waning sun.”

Well, I said, “Friend, please come this way,
to the camp where my daughters wait.
We've come to trawl at the river's base.
We're wanderers too, these days.”

He came with me in the shade of night,
a pair of mossy eyes in the moonlit pine,
a lion's mane and a tender smile.
“Got the wild of the mountain in you, child.”

My youngest ne're did leave his side.
My eldest grew to be his pride,
for a vacancy he did subside.
We met beneath the wintertide.

On our fifteenth winter year,
he said to me, “my darling dear,
you must retire and leave me here,
for a dreadful wind is approaching near.”

Our children too soon had aged,
when we plucked a hazel bloom bouquet,
knelt at ease near a quiet grave,
wherein my finest memories lay.

I know when I grow old,
I'll grow like hazel in the cold, wet snow.
There I met a lonesome soul,
and I still melt when the cold wind blows.

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