Sheila Kay Adams | Sailor Being Tired | Western AF

A seventh-generation ballad singer, storyteller, and musician, Sheila Kay Adams was born and raised in the Sodom Laurel community of Madison County, North Carolina, an area renowned for its unbroken tradition of unaccompanied ballad singing dating back to the early Scottish, Scots/Irish and English settlers in the mid-17th century. She learned the art of ballad singing directly from elder tradition-bearers in her community.

In addition to her powerful voice and deep knowledge of traditional ballads, Adams is also an accomplished clawhammer banjo player and a captivating storyteller. She began performing publicly as a teenager and has since graced stages at festivals, music camps, workshops, and storytelling events across the U.S. and the United Kingdom. Her notable appearances include the prestigious National Storytelling Festival in Jonesborough, Tennessee, and the Smithsonian Folklife Festival in both 1976 (for the Bicentennial Celebration) and 2003 (for Appalachia: Heritage and Harmony).

In September, 2013, she received the nation’s highest award for the arts, The National Endowment for the Arts National Heritage Fellowship Award which recognizes folk and traditional artists for their artistic excellence and efforts to conserve America’s culture for future generations. In 2016, Sheila received the North Carolina Heritage Award, the state’s highest award for the arts. More recently, Sheila was recognized as a 2026 United States Artist Fellow.

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More music from Sheila Kay Adams:
Website: https://www.nestofsingingbirds.com/sheila-kay-adams
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Recorded by: Mike Vanata
Mixed & Mastered: Will Ross
Editor: Manuel Deakins
Cameras: Kenny Clair & Mike Vanata
Executive Producers: Irvin Maddox, Arron Tschida, and Frank Stelter
Producers: Brian Harrington, Will Ross, Travis Blankenship & Mike Vanata
Special Thanks: Rare Bird Farms, Sparrow Smith, Anna Pearson & Molly Nagel-Driessen.
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Lyrics:
Sailor Bein Tired

It’s a sailor being tired, Lord

He hung down his head.

It’s a sailor being tired, Lord

Well he hung down his head.

And he asked a little maid

For to show him the bed.

Well she showed him the bed

Like a maid ought to do

She showed him the bed, Lord

Like a maid oughta do.

And he said, “My little honey

Won’t you come to bed, too.”

Well her being just a maid,

Not thinking any harm

Her being just a maid, Lord

Not thinking any harm.

Well she hopped up in the bed

And she rolled up in his arms

It’s what I done there now

I wouldn’t tell here.

It’s what I done there, Lord

Well I wouldn’t tell here.

But I wish that short night

Could have been a long year.

It’s a six months past

Then eight drawed nigh.

It’s a six months past, Lord

And eight rolled by

Til the shoes they wouldn’t buckle

And her apron wouldn’t time.

Say, if it is a boy child

Then name it after me

Put a pistol in his pocket, Lord

And dress it all in blue

Tell it to love the women

Like his pappy used to do.

Say, if it is a girl child

Hire it a nurse

Take it on your knee, lord

And comb it’s pretty head

So you can remember the night

That I took your maidenhead.

Dillard Chandler
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Written by Western AF