This week on Three Tune Tuesday, we turn our ear to the outsiders — the wanderers, the exiled, and the forgotten. From a lonesome American drifter to a Siberian prisoner and a mother mourning her lost son, these early recordings echo with the voices of those who don’t quite belong. Whether cast out, worn down, or simply left behind, each song carries the weight of life on the margins. Join us for three vintage tracks that ask: who gets to belong, and who gets left out in the cold?
Lyrics
Lonesome Road
Look down, look down that lonesome road
Before you travel on
Look up, look up and greet your maker
For Gabriel blows his horn
Weary, totin’ such a load
Tredgin’ down that lonesome road
Look down, look down that lonesome road
Before you travel on
Through love, through love, what have I done?
That you should treat me so
You cause me to walk and talk
Like I never done beforeh
The Vagabond
Russian
- По диким степям Забайкалья,
- Где золото роют в горах,
- Бродяга, судьбу проклиная,
- Тащился с сумой на плечах.
- Идёт он густою тайгою,
- Где пташки одни лишь поют,
- Котел его сбоку тревожит,
- Сухие коты ноги бьют.
- На нем рубашонка худая,
- И множество разных заплат,
- Шапчонка на нем арестанта
- И серый тюремный халат.
- Бежал из тюрьмы тёмной ночью,
- В тюрьме он за правду страдал.
- Идти дальше нет уже мочи –
- Пред ним расстилался Байкал.
- Бродяга к Байкалу подходит,
- Рыбацкую лодку берёт
- И грустную песню заводит,
- Про Родину что-то поёт.
- “Оставил жену молодую
- И малых оставил детей,
- Теперь я иду наудачу,
- Бог знает, увижусь ли с ней!”
- Бродяга Байкал переехал,
- Навстречу – родимая мать.
- “Ах, здравствуй, ах, здравствуй, мамаша,
- Здоров ли отец мой да брат?”
- “Отец твой давно уж в могиле,
- Землею сырою лежит,
- А брат твой давно уж в Сибири,
- Давно кандалами гремит.”
- “Пойдём же, пойдём, мой сыночек,
- Пойдём же в курень наш родной,
- Жена там по мужу скучает,
- И плачут детишки гурьбой.”
English
- On the wild steppes of Transbaikalia,
- Where people dig for gold in the mountains,
- A vagrant, bemoaning his fate,
- Is wandering with a bag on his back.
- He walks through the thick taiga,
- Where only a few birds sing,
- He carries a tin can on his side,
- His feet are strapped in dry skins.
- He wears a worn-out shirt
- And a lot of different patches.
- The cap on his head is a convict’s cap
- And he wears a grey convict’s uniform.
- He escaped from prison during a dark night
- Where he was imprisoned for defending the truth.
- But he could not go any further
- In front of him was Lake Baikal.
- The vagrant walks to the shore
- And climbs in to a fisherman’s boat.
- He starts to sing a sad song
- Telling something about his native land.
- “I left my wife when she was young
- And left her with my small children,
- Now I wander aimlessly,
- God knows, whether I shall meet her again!”
- He crosses the lake,
- His mother comes to meet him.
- ”O my dear mother let me embrace you,
- Are my father and my brother well?”
- “Your father has been dead for a long time;
- He now rests in the damp earth.
- And your brother is serving his sentence,
- Wearing chains, somewhere in Siberia.”
- “Let’s go, let’s go, my son,
- Let’s go home to our house,
- Where your wife misses her husband,
- And all your little children are crying.”
Where is My Wandering Boy Tonight
Where is my wandering boy tonight
The boy of my tenderest care
The boy that was once my joy and light
The child of my love and prayer
Where is my boy tonight
Where is my boy tonight
My heart o’erflows for I love him he knows
Oh where is my boy tonight
Once he was pure as morning dew
As he knelt at his mother’s knee
No face was so bright no heart more true
And none was so sweet as he
Oh chould I see you now my boy
As fair as in olden time
When prattle and smile made home a joy
And life was a merry chime
Go for my wand’ring boy tonight
Go search for him where you will
But bring him to me with all his blight
And tell him I love him still