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The Boy With The Moon And Star On His He
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You've selected:
The Boy With The Moon And Star On His He
SheetMusicPlus
Sheetmusic to print
5 sheet music found
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1
The Boy With The Moon And Star On His He
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Piano solo
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INTERMEDIATE
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Folk/Rock
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Rock
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Cat Stevens
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Daniel Fichera
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The Boy With The Moon And Star
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Daniel Fichera
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SheetMusicPlus
Piano Solo - Level 3 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1128312 By Cat Stevens. By Cat Stevens. Arranged by Daniel Fichera. Folk,Pop,Rock. Score. 10 pages. Danie...
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Piano Solo - Level 3 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1128312 By Cat Stevens. By Cat Stevens. Arranged by Daniel Fichera. Folk,Pop,Rock. Score. 10 pages. Daniel Fichera #728927. Published by Daniel Fichera (A0.1128312). Piano Solo arrangement of The Boy With The Moon And Star On His Head by Cat Stevens from the album Catch Bull at Four arranged by Daniel Fichera.
$7.99
The Story Of Reuben Clamzo & His Strange Daughter
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Choral TTBB
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EASY
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Arlo Guthrie
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Craig Hanson
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The Story Of Reuben Clamzo & H
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Edition Craig Hanson
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SheetMusicPlus
Choral Choir (TTBB) - Level 2 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1270160 By Arlo Guthrie. By Arlo Guthrie. Arranged by Craig Hanson. A Cappella,Comedy,Folk. Octa...
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Choral Choir (TTBB) - Level 2 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1270160 By Arlo Guthrie. By Arlo Guthrie. Arranged by Craig Hanson. A Cappella,Comedy,Folk. Octavo. 6 pages. Edition Craig Hanson #862589. Published by Edition Craig Hanson (A0.1270160). For TTBB chorus a cappella and solo voice. As performed by Arlo Guthrie.Wanna hear something? You know that Indians never ate clams. They didn't have linguini! And so what happened was that clams was allowed to grow unmolested in the coastal waters of America for millions of years. And they got big, and I ain't talking about clams in general, I'm talking about each clam! Individually. I mean each one was a couple of million years old or older. So imagine they could have got bigger than this whole room. And when they get that big, God gives them little feet so that they could walk around easier. And when they get feet, they get dangerous. I'm talking about real dangerous. I ain't talking about sitting under the water waiting for you. I'm talking about coming after you.Imagine being on one of them boats coming over to discover America, like Columbus or something, standing there at night on watch, everyone else is either drunk or asleep. And you're watching for America and the boat's going up and down. And you don't like it anyhow but you gotta stand there and watch, for what? Only he knows, and he ain't watching. You hear the waves lapping against the side of the ship. The moon is going behind the clouds. You hear the pitter patter of little footprints on deck. ‘Is that you kids?’ It ain't! My god! It's this humongous, giant clam!Imagine those little feet coming on deck. A clam twice the size of the ship. Feet first. You're standing there shivering with fear, you grab one of these. This is a belaying pin. They used to have these stuck in the holes all around the ship… You probably didn't know what this is for; you probably had an idea, but you were wrong. They used to have these stuck in the holes all along the sides of the ship, everywhere. You wouldn't know what this is for unless you was that guy that night.I mean, you'd grab this out of the hole, run on over there, bam bam on them little feet! Back into the ocean would go a hurt, but not defeated, humongous, giant clam. Ready to strike again when opportunity was better.You know not even the coastal villages was safe from them big clams. You know them big clams had an inland range of about 15 miles. Think of that. I mean our early pioneers and the settlers built little houses all up and down the coast you know. A little inland and stuff like that and they didn't have houses like we got now, with bathrooms and stuff. They built little privies out back. And late at night, maybe a kid would have to go, and he'd go stomping out there in the moonlight. And all they'd hear for miles around...(loud clap/belch).... One less kid for America. One more smiling, smurking, humongous, giant clam.So Americans built forts. Them forts --you know—them pictures of them forts with the wooden points all around. You probably thought them points was for Indians but that's stupid! 'Cause Indians know about doors. But clams didn't. Even if a clam knew about a door, so what? A clam couldn't fit in a door. I mean, he'd come stomping up to a fort at night, put them feet on them points, jump back crying, tears coming out of them everywhere. But Americans couldn't live in forts forever. You couldn't just build one big fort around America. How would you go to the beach?So what they did was they formed groups of people. I mean they had groups of people all up and down the coast form these little alliances. Like up North it was call the Clamshell Alliance. And farther down South it was called the Catfish Alliance. They had these Alliances all up and down the coast defending themselves against these threatening monsters. These humongous giant clams. Andt hey'd go out there, if there was maybe fifteen of them they'd be singing songs in fifteen part harmony. And when one part disappeared, that's how they knew where the clam would be.Which is why Americans only sing in four part harmony to this very day. That proved to be too dangerous. See, what they did was they'd be singing these songs called Clam Chanties, and they'd have these big spears called clampoons. And they'd be walking up and down the beach and the method they eventually devised where they'd have this guy, the most strongest heavy duty true blue American, courageous type dude they could find and they'd have him out there walking up and down the beach by himself with other chicken dudes hiding behind the sand dunes somewhere.He'd be singing the verses. They'd be singing the chorus, and clams would hear 'em. And clams hate music. So clams would come out of the water and they'd come after this one guy. And all you'd see pretty soon was flying all over the sand flying up and down the beach manmanclamclammanmanclam manclamclamman up and down the beach going this way and that way up the hills in the water out of the water behind the trees everywhere. Finally the man would jump over a big sand dune, roll over the side, the clam would come over the dune, fall in the hole and fourteen guys would come out there and stab the shit out of him with their clampoons.That's the way it was. That was one way to deal with them. The other way was to weld two clams together. [I don't believe it. I'm losing it. Hey. What can you do. Another night shot to hell.] Hey, this was serious back then. This was very serious. I mean these songs now are just piddly folk songs. But back then these songs were controversial. These was radical, almost revolutionary songs. Because times was different and clams was a threat to America. That's right. So we want to sing this song tonight about the one last... You see what they did was there was one man, he was one of these men, his name will always be remembered, his name was Reuben Clamzo, and he was one of the last great clam men there ever was. He stuck the last clam stab. The last clampoon into the last clam that was ever seen on this continent. Knowing he would be out of work in an hour. He did it anyway so that you and me could go to the beach in relative safety. That's right. Made America safe for the likes of you and me. And so we sing this song in his memory. He went into whaling like most of them guys did and he got out of that, when he died. You know, clams was much more dangerous than whales. Clams can run in the water, on the water or on the ground, and they are so big sometimes that they can jump and they can spread their kinda shells and kinda almost fly like one of them flying squirrels.You could be standing there thinking that your perfectly safe and all of a sudden whop.... That's true... And so this is the song of this guy by the name of Reuben Clamzo and the song takes place right after he stabbed this clam and the clam was, going through this kinda death dance over on the side somewhere. The song starts there and he goes into whaling and takes you through the next...I sing the part of the guy on the beach by himself. I go like this: Poor old Reuben Clamzo and you go Clamzo Boys Clamzo. That's the part of the fourteen chicken dudes over on the other side. That's what they used to sing. They'd be calling these clams out of the water. Like taunting them making fun of them. Clams would get real mad and come out. Here we go. I want you to sing it in case you ever have an occasion to join such an alliance. You know some of these alliances are still around. Still defending America against things like them clams. If you ever wants to join one, now you have some historic background. So you know where these guys are coming from. It's not just some 60's movement or something, these things go back a long time.Notice the distinction you're going to have to make now between the first and easy Clamzo Boys Clamzo and the more complicated Clamzo Me Boys Clamzo. Stay serious! Folk songs are serious. That's what Pete Seeger told me. Arlo I only want to tell you one thing... Folk songs are serious. I said right. Let's do it in C for Clam...Iet's do it in B... For boy that's a big clam... Iet' s do it in G for Gee, I hope that big clam don't see me. Let's do it in F... For …he sees me. Let's do it back in A...for a clam is coming. Better get this song done quick. The Story of Reuben Clamzo and His Strange Daughter in the Key of A.
$3.99
Too Much For Our Thirst (Trombone and Piano)
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Trombone and Piano
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INTERMEDIATE/ADVANCED
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Contemporary
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Alexander Burdiss
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Too Much For Our Thirst
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Ars Nova Press
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SheetMusicPlus
Piano,Tenor Trombone - Level 4 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1335564 Composed by Alexander Burdiss. Contemporary. Score and part. 12 pages. Ars Nova Press #...
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Piano,Tenor Trombone - Level 4 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1335564 Composed by Alexander Burdiss. Contemporary. Score and part. 12 pages. Ars Nova Press #921400. Published by Ars Nova Press (A0.1335564). Too Much For Our Thirstby Alexander BurdissArranged for Trombone and PianoDedicated to Courtney CarmackPerformance Time: approx. 7:00This is an adaptation for trombone of a piece originally written for tuba. The Eyes of the Poor from Paris SpleenWritten by Charles Baudelaire, Translated by Arthur Symons Ah! you want to know why I hate you to-day. It will probably be less easy for you to understand than for me to explain it to you; for you are, I think, the most perfect example of feminine impenetrability that could possibly be found. We had spent a long day together, and it had seemed to me short. We had promised one another that we would think the same thoughts and that our two souls should become one soul; a dream which is not original, after all, except that, dreamed by all men, it has been realised by none. In the evening you were a little tired, and you sat down outside a new café at the corner of a new boulevard, still littered with plaster and already displaying proudly its unfinished splendours. The café glittered. The very gas put on all the fervency of a fresh start, and lighted up with its full force the blinding whiteness of the walls, the dazzling sheets of glass in the mirrors, the gilt of cornices and mouldings, the chubby-cheeked pages straining back from hounds in leash, the ladies laughing at the falcons on their wrists, the nymphs and goddesses carrying fruits and pies and game on their heads, the Hebes and Ganymedes holding out at arm's-length little jars of syrups or parti-coloured obelisks of ices; the whole of history and of mythology brought together to make a paradise for gluttons. Exactly opposite to us, in the roadway, stood a man of about forty years of age, with a weary face and a greyish beard, holding a little boy by one hand and carrying on the other arm a little fellow too weak to walk. He was taking the nurse-maid's place, and had brought his children out for a walk in the evening. All were in rags. The three faces were extraordinarily serious, and the six eyes stared fixedly at the new café with an equal admiration, differentiated in each according to age. The father's eyes said: How beautiful it is! how beautiful it is! One would think that all the gold of the poor world had found its way to these walls. The boy's eyes said: How beautiful it is! how beautiful it is! But that is a house which only people who are not like us can enter. As for the little one's eyes, they were too fascinated to express anything but stupid and utter joy. Song-writers say that pleasure ennobles the soul and softens the heart. The song was right that evening, so far as I was concerned. Not only was I touched by this family of eyes, but I felt rather ashamed of our glasses and decanters, so much too much for our thirst. I turned to look at you, dear love, that I might read my own thought in you; I gazed deep into your eyes, so beautiful and so strangely sweet, your green eyes that are the home of caprice and under the sovereignty of the Moon; and you said to me: Those people are insupportable to me with their staring saucer- eyes! Couldn't you tell the head waiter to send them away? So hard is it to understand one another, dearest, and so incommunicable is thought, even between people who are in love!
$9.99
El Vaquero Misterioso
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Piano Trio: piano, violin, cello
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INTERMEDIATE/ADVANCED
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Mena Williams
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El Vaquero Misterioso
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Mena C. Williams
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SheetMusicPlus
Piano Trio Cello,Piano,Violin - Level 4 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1269993 Composed by Mena Williams. 21st Century,Classical. 22 pages. Mena C. Williams ...
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Piano Trio Cello,Piano,Violin - Level 4 - Digital Download SKU: A0.1269993 Composed by Mena Williams. 21st Century,Classical. 22 pages. Mena C. Williams #862455. Published by Mena C. Williams (A0.1269993). SCORE & PARTS~00:02:30El Vaquero Misterioso is Spanish for The Mysterious Cowboy. During a night of festivities, a stranger enters your town on a beautiful black and white stallion. From the crowd he lays eyes on you, he takes you in his arms and dances with you under the moonlight and stars. The more you dance with him the more the night seems like a fantasy. When the sun finally rises again he is gone, the only thing left is the boot prints left in the sand from where you danced; and a head filled with beautiful memories from the night before.~This Score has been Revised~.
$10.00
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