The Geologist's Come-All-Ye (a folksong) by Brenna Lorenz
Come all ye lads and you will hear
About the life that we love dear,
Refrain: With our diddle-air-re-oh, falling rock away, knock it down,
Fall-di-knock-a-rock-away, me laddie-oh!
Geologists all bold and strong,
We are the subject of this song.
We get up with the rising sun
And map until the day is done.
We walk two hundred miles a day,
And study rocks along the way.
We fight our way through brush and trees
And slog through bog up to our knees.
When flies are thick, then we don't walk,
They carry us from rock to rock.
We swing our hammers with a whack,
Take home an outcrop on our backs.
Nine hundred pounds of rock or more
Is just an average daily score.
If we run out of food to eat
There's always rock beneath our feet.
There's nothing quite like granite stew
'Though graptolites are some good, too.
In the evening to the clubs we flock,
To drink Dominion and Old Stock.
Here's to your health and our health, too,
May your life prove as good to you,
A geologist's song 03
The Marginal Basin Song by Chris Stillman
(melody: Lead us on, thou Heavenly Father)
On a margin runs a canyon down into the ocean dark;
There's a basin slowly filling with detritus from the arc.
Refrain: For the drifting causes rifting,
Opens basins mighty fine
Which strike-slip will close in time.
With volcanics there's no problem; they're erupting all the time;
Fill the thin with pillow lavas, sheeted dikes and serpentine.
Rising slowly from the ocean filled with gritties coarse and fine,
Are you fore-arc? Are you anti-arc? Are you just a geosyncline?