From the hymnal · Camp Songs, Vol. 1
Round the Fire
The opening singalong from our only live record, caught around the fire it is named for — Camp Pinecrest, up the mountain at Lake Arrowhead, the summer of 2014. We sang it as a round, one side of the fire starting and the far side coming in a beat behind, until nobody could say who began it. We print it as we sang it that weekend, in the one key of C — the last of the eight to reach the hymnal, and the plainest of them all.
Up the mountain, up the pine,Where the lake is cold and the stars are fine;We came for rest and we stayed to sing,Round the fire, round the ring.
Lay a log and the light grows tall,There is room by the flame for one and all;No one leaves till the last coal's gray,Round the fire, we'll stay, we'll stay.
Sister Petra strums a chord,Brother Wesley hums a homeward word;The smoke goes up like a small amen,Round the fire, and round again.
When the morning finds the shore,We'll fold the chairs and we'll ask for more;But the song we sang will follow home,Round the fire, wherever we roam.
Refrain
Round the fire, round the fire,Lift the light a little higher;Sing it low and sing it long,Everybody knows the song.
A note for the folding chairs
Camp Songs, Vol. 1 (2014) is our only live record, and "Round the Fire" is the first thing on it — the song we open the fire with every summer at Camp Pinecrest, up at Lake Arrowhead. We did not so much record it as fail to stop singing it: someone had a recorder going in a canvas chair, and what you hear is the fire, the crickets, and whoever was awake. It is built as a round, which is the friendliest shape a song can take, because a round has no soloist and no last word — one side of the fire starts, the far side comes in a beat behind, and by the third time through nobody can tell you who began it, which is rather the point. There is no quarrel anywhere in it; there is only pine, and cold lake water, and the plain gladness of singing outdoors with people who drove a long way to do it. Sing it slow. Let the far side come in late. Keep it going until the last coal goes gray, and then a little longer. Bring a folding chair. Bring a friend to sit in it. We will provide the fire.
Hymn eight of eight albums' worth — the campfire record, the last to be printed, and the simplest of the set. That completes the hymnal, one weekend and one key at a time. Back to the hymnal — “We Held the Volume” →