Scoundrels That We Are

by Monday Morning Denial

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"Scoundrels That We Are" is the debut recording of Monday Morning Denial, an "underdog folk" duo from Eugene, Oregon.


released January 17, 2016

Nathan Moore: guitar, vocals, drums
Kate Downing: banjo, vocals
Rachael Young: bass, vocals



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Monday Morning Denial Eugene, Oregon

Monday Morning Denial is a folk music duo featuring husband-and-wife songwriting team Kate Downing and Nathan Moore. They craft and perform “underdog folk” songs that champion the struggles of everyday people to find hope in the midst of hard times.

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Track Name: Scoundrels That We Are

Listen, workers, listen
For it's eighteen eighty-three
Accused we stand by men
Who seek to stifle liberty
Sixty strong, we did no wrong
We only spoke the truth
That rule by might or holy rite
Is rotten at the root

We rose up at the Commune
With flags of black and red
From barricade to brick
Upon those Paris streets we bled
Now here we wait in Lyon
Denounced by State and law
But chains cannot constrain the mind
That follows freedom's cause

Scoundrels that we are
The bane of boss and crown and tsar
From farm and field to factory and mine
We claim bread and work for all
Curse collar, cage, and prison wall
In defiance and free contract we combine

We've seen the weavers' children
With hands out at the gate
We've heard the priest in cloth of gold
Say paradise must wait
The worst is not the tyrant
Whose throne can be upturned
But the boss who bleeds the belly
Taking all that others earn

From all pockets come the wages
that fill the teacher's purse
Yet our comrades toil unlettered due to circumstance of birth.
Capital accumulates as muscle turns the wheel
And the wealth of generations is not for the rich to steal


Liberty unlimited!
Equality for all!
To the pillars of authority
We would see you fall!

Chorus 2X

By Nathan Moore & Kate Downing
Track Name: Fragments

Standing in the road
He's only twelve years old
Watching as his daddy drives away
He's supposed to understand
but he barely knows the man
And all the wishing in the world won't make him stay

Smallest kid in school
She never breaks a rule
If you blink she might just fade into her chair
But at home they yell her name
She's the one who gets the blame
If she could she'd disappear into thin air

They watch our every breath
Like trees turn toward the sun
Be the hand that lifts them up,
not the past they'll overcome

Careless with a word
Becoming what they've heard
Hearts hold scars that bodies can't display
And a parent's love withheld
Freezing what might never melt
All through the generations letting pain replay


See us in their eyes
Reaching up like vines
Each tiny hand to hold, a brand new new start
Despite the hurt done unto us
We can teach them love and trust
And from fragments piece together our own hearts


Be the hand that lifts them up
Not the past they'll overcome

© 2014 N. Moore and K. Downing
Track Name: Days All Dark with Dust

A rusty rail line stretches
From the mountains to the west
Where the ghosts of workers wander
Still hoping to be blessed
By the fickle hands of fortune
Or the laughing lips of luck
Like tramps they walk forever
Through those days all dark with dust

There's a frame upon a mantle
That someone left behind
A worn man in his one good suit
Maybe nineteen twenty-nine
He came back from the Great War
No god or flag to trust
So he rode the rods and boxcars
Through those days all dark with dust

Have you seen the scars of times too hard
Upon an old man's face?
Have you heard the songs from migrant tongues
Pushed on from place to place?
Like blood these stories travel
As each generation's must
Through veins of hope and heartache
And days all dark with dust

A young boy sits and listens
While his grandpa smokes and speaks
Of how it felt to walk for miles
With bare and ragged feet
No boots of fancy leather
Can never heal the cuts
Of a childhood lost to labor
In those days all dark with dust


Now the factories are crumbling
In the land where once we searched For a place to sow our seeds of dreams My god, how hard we worked!
From dry dirt fields to streets of steel Now turning red with rust
Long memories mark our struggles
In those days all dark with dust


Like blood these stories travel
As each generation's must
Through veins of hope and heartache And days all dark with dust

© 2014 N. Moore and K. Downing
Track Name: Fish On, Papa

I grew up in a little town on Oregon's rocky shore
And I never was alone when I could hear the ocean's roar
My Papa loved the woods and streams that thrived outside the sand And we always had our bellies full of the bounty of the land.

We had years when the fish were plenty; elk fell when the bow was drawn And years when the fish got lost somewhere and forgot they had to spawn But Papa always managed with Mama by his side
And they worked those long hard hours that stretched from tide to tide

Fish on, Papa, Fish on
May your passion still sustain us when you're gone May the Elk and deer run free
And the fish flow from the sea
Fish on, Papa, Fish on.

I've heard all about this place up North; they call it Bristol Bay The way I've heard it told it's the Eden of our day
Over half the world's wild salmon return there every year
And the land abounds with creatures from geese to grizzly bear.

There are people there who've made their homes, lived lives full and complete Since sometime before dirt was old and honey tasted sweet
Come bankers clad in business suits; like locusts in a swarm
They want to strip the land and mine; they swear they'll do no harm.


There's so many things that a salmon must endure to get upstream Nature hasn't made it easy for Chinook, Coho or King
But we've seen a great dark die-off; we've seen populations slide Because to dodge a bear is easier than surviving human pride.

I know once the fish swam swift and thick up old Celilo Falls
For the echo of a way of life still rings through Native halls
We've lost so much in Oregon from the damning of that water May our voices join with Bristol Bay and prevent a great disaster.


My Papa he loves little more than to share food from his table And I know he'll keep on fishing past the point where he is able
May his passion for the wild and free be the gift that he imparts
May the coming generations have the the chance to know his heart.

Fish on, Papa, Fish on
May your grandkids sing this song for years to come
May the bounty of the land
Be protected by their hands
Fish on, Papa, Fish on


©2015 Kate Downing
Track Name: Harry Bridges

Harry helped to build the bridges that the workers marched across
In a time when it was dangerous to agitate the boss
When the workers got together to see what they could do
They built a solid union–the ILWU

So here’s to you Harry, may your name forever stand
For integrity and justice for every workingman
Workingwomen are beside them as the bosses’ plans erode
And your spirit sails on every ship we load

Before the union stood against the flowing economic tide
The employer set the standards and then organized the ride
Standards of human decency were easy to ignore
But all that changed in 1934


From San Diego to Alaska all the teams called the same play
And there wasn’t any question that the workers won that day
They put the blame on Harry when the power was let go
And they called him every evil thing they know

They called him a commie; they called him a Red
They called him a lot of things they should have called the boss instead
But when the dust had settled and the new day had begun
It was plain the working people had all won


Then we found out what employers do when they’re pushed to the line
When they can’t exploit their workers and they find a friend sometime
Uncle Sam called in the watchdogs, tried to tell them where to go
Workers stood with Harry Bridges and history said “No!”


And your spirit sails on every ship we load

©Harry Stamper, Belly-Up Music