Songs of the Sea

“A masterful weaver of songs whose deep, resonant voice rivals the best of his genre…”

Spirit of Change Magazine

“Beneath the friendly charisma is the heart of a purist gently leading us from the songs of our lives to the timeless traditional songs he knows so well…”

Globe Magazine

Songs of the Sea & Fo’castle

The American Folk Experience

The American Folk Experience is dedicated to collecting and curating the most enduring songs from our musical heritage. Every performance and workshop is a celebration and exploration of the timeless songs and stories that have shaped and formed the musical history of America. John Fitzsimmons has been singing and performing these gems of the past for the past forty years, and he brings a folksy warmth, wry humor and massive repertoire of songs to any occasion.

Festivals & Celebrations —Coffeehouses —School Assemblies — Library Presentations —Songwriting Workshops —Artist in Residence — House Concerts —Pub Singing — Irish & Celtic Performances —Poetry Readings — Campfires —Music Lessons —Senior Centers —Voiceovers & Recording

Songs of the Sea

Remembered Songs Passed through Time…

Explore The Songs of the Sea…

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

April 26, 2017

March 30, 2017

Coast of High Barbary

March 24, 2017

Farewell to Nova Scotia

March 12, 2017

Fiddler’s Green

March 12, 2017

Leave Her Johnny Leave Her

March 12, 2017

Hanging Johnny

March 12, 2017

Cape Cod Girls

March 12, 2017

Rolling Down to Old Maui

March 12, 2017

Rolling Home

March 11, 2017

Sloop John B

March 11, 2017

The Flying Cloud

March 11, 2017

Lady Franklins Lament

March 11, 2017

Greenland Whale Fisheries

March 11, 2017

Mingulay Boat Song

March 11, 2017

More from John Fitzsimmons…

Now Available on iTunes!

Now Available on iTunes!

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Listen to the Salty Dawgs

“When the eyes rest on the soul…that’s Fitzy…”

Lenny Megliola

WEEI Radio

The March Snow

by Fitz | March 11, 2018 | Journal, Poetry | 0 Comments

An early March snow brought down all these branches Cracking and crashing throughout a long night, Piling them impatiently in the yard Like jacksticks in a child’s messy room. The stepladder I used to rake the ridge Stands like an awkward sculpture draped in white...

Thanksgiving

by Fitz | November 26, 2014 | Journal, Poetry | 0 Comments

Thanksgiving I am surprised sometimes by the suddenness of November: beauty abruptly shed to a common nakedness— grasses deadened by hoarfrost, persistent memories of people I’ve lost. It is left to those of us dressed in the hard barky skin of experience to...

Why Trump Is Not Flipping Me Out

by Fitz | March 18, 2016 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

I wonder why Trump is not flipping me out? I wonder if there is some bigoted, ignorant and right-wing element that lurks inside this folk-singing, poem writing, neo-socialist shell of mine. Maybe it is not that hard for me to make the empathetic reach to feel at least...

Out of the Forge: March 30, 2017

by Fitz | March 31, 2017 | Journal, Out of the Forge | 0 Comments

Every Thursday Night at The Colonial Inn On the Green, in Concord, Massachusetts This is my first attempt at trying to record a night at the inn, so please forgive my engineering errors as a producer. I simply used the Bose Tonematch into Garageband and called it good...

Going Google?

by Fitz | July 1, 2014 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

When you find yourself in the majority, it's time to join the minority ~Mark Twain I have to admit, Google is pretty impressive. The whole set of features that are offered to the public and to educators for free is pretty astounding: email, document creation and...

Let It Snow, Let It Snow…

by Fitz | February 2, 2014 | Essays, Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

You can't kill time without wounding eternity. ~Henry David Thoreau Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...but don't let it totally define your day. Most of us see a snow day as an unexpected vacation day, though really what it is could be called "a day of...

Make Something out of Something

by Fitz | February 26, 2014 | Essays, Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

It's hard to make chicken salad out of chicken manure Dirty hands are a good sign, so hopefully, you got some mental mud on your hands and created some content to work with today. To a starving man, any food is good food--unless it...

Concord

by Fitz | July 14, 2014 | Poetry, Raccoon | 0 Comments

The people, the music filledness of rush hour traffic skirting puddles work crews packing in laughswearingmudyellowed slickers lighting candle bombs. My sadness the euphoric detachment. I love this town. It breathes me.

You Are All a Bunch of Punks

by Fitz | February 3, 2014 | Essays, Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

Poetry without form is like tennis without a net. ~Robert Frost Free verse poetry is not, as many assume, poetry without rules. It is a measured and thoughtful crafting of an idea into lines, spaces, and breaks intentionally and willfully crafted to heighten and...

Trawler

by Fitz | August 12, 2014 | Fires in the Belly, Songs | 0 Comments

Leave the fog stillness
of a cold harbor town;
cup our hands
in the warm diesel sound—
leave while the children
are calmed in their dreams
by light buoys calling:
“Don’t play around me.”

The Street I Never Go Down

by Fitz | November 18, 2017 | Journal, Poetry | 0 Comments

As is often the case, I sit here with good intent to write my end-of-term comments--a dry litany of repeated phrases dulled by. obligation--and find myself instead writing poetry, the stuff I would rather share with my students who already know that I care dearly...

The Farmer, The Weaver & the Space Traveler

by Fitz | June 26, 2020 | Essays, Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

Words matter. Words carefully crafted and artfully expressed matter infinitely more. There is something compelling in a turn of phrase well-timed, arresting image juxtaposed on arresting images; broad ideas distilled into clear, lucid singular thought. For the...

Life Outside the Curriculum

by Fitz | July 25, 2019 | Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

“My teachers could have written with Jesse James for all time they stole from us...” ~Richard Brautigan, “Trout Fishing in America” My classroom is often a bit of a mess—a mass of sprawled bodies scattered around like casualties of battle, ensconced in various...

Chores

by Fitz | May 15, 2016 | Journal, Poetry | 0 Comments

The day sometimes slip away from me, a huge pine half-bucked in the backyard, the kids old tree fort cut into slabs, a ton of coal waiting to be moved in a train of buckets to the bin. Sipping cold water on the back deck, sharpening the dulled teeth of a worn...

Metamorphoses

by Fitz | March 25, 2026 | Journal | 0 Comments

Shane

by Fitz | August 12, 2014 | Fires in the Belly, Songs | 0 Comments

It’s been too long feeling sorry for myself.
It’s been too long with my life up on the shelf.
Sometimes wish that I was Shane—
shoot Jack Palance, and disappear again;
don’t have no one
don’t want no one
don’t miss no one:
living lonely with a saddle and a gun.

New Ways

by Fitz | February 21, 2017 | Journal | 0 Comments

Time for a change. Feeling it in a lot of ways. After months of steady workouts, I’ve been finding too many convenient ways to let the day slip by. Still feel better than I have in years, but the days seem to have got the best of me. Excuses, procrastination and...

China Journal: Part One

by Fitz | July 23, 2015 | Essays, Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

I The dull staccato throb in light rain on a dark night. Unseen barges make their way up the QianTian River—concrete shores marked by the arch of the bridge, the spans of beam stretched on beam, the impeccable symmetry of the street-lights broken by a stream...

If you don’t stand, you cower…

by Fitz | July 19, 2019 | Journal | 0 Comments

Maybe it is time to be less forgiving. I have rarely agreed with our president, but I held on to the shreds of truth that shore up his arguments: we can’t welcome every immigrant who makes it to our border; we cannot bow to the audacity of corrupt governments in...

A Monday Ramble

by Fitz | August 25, 2014 | Journal | 0 Comments

There is always a hard shift for me at the end of the summer, and today is that day for me. I miss the freedom of last week: I'd wake in the morning, come out to the deck to write poetry or work on my novel--but now today, I feel like I should be preparing for school,...

All You Need is Love

by Fitz | November 16, 2013 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

The day grew warm today, as did my mood. I did a couple of shows at my school’s diversity day. It was good to see girls there and the obvious racial differences. It was comforting to see a sea of color with a smattering of white instead of the other way around. My...

The Fisher

by Fitz | July 14, 2014 | Poetry, Raccoon | 0 Comments

To cast far is to cast well. I’ve always believed that the biggest fish are just beyond my range and lie in dark water I could never swim to. But experience is the wisdom that has me now casting closer to shore, nearest the reeds and overgrowth — a subtleness geared...

Thinking of My Sister

by Fitz | September 23, 2014 | Journal | 0 Comments

When Cool Was Really Cool Life is not counted by the amount of breaths we take, but of the moments that leave us breathless. ~Unknown We were coming home from church one morning and Jimmy Glennon pulled up beside us as we approached the Sudbury road...

Denise

by Fitz | August 14, 2014 | Journal, Poetry | 0 Comments

There is something about coming hometo this empty house, yesterday'sheavy downpours scouringclean the alreadyweathered deckwhere I sitwishing for,wanting,you.

Writing Iambic Dimeter Poetry

by Fitz | February 19, 2018 | Journal, Poetry, Teaching | 0 Comments

I am sitting here realizing how hard it is to ask you--a bunch of fifteen-year-old boys--to write iambic dimeter poetry, a form of poetry that is more or less ignored nowadays. I (literally) played around for a couple of hours penning these poems, which are at least...

Fenn Speaks…

by Fitz | May 11, 2019 | Essays, Journal, Poetry, Teaching | 0 Comments

I am You, and You are me... Give a damn & figure it out I feel like one of my students: it’s the night before my big presentation at All-school-meeting, and I still don’t know what I am going to talk about. I just know I am supposed to talk about me......

Dad

by Fitz | December 4, 2013 | Poetry | 0 Comments

Moaning like a lost whale the thin ice bellowed behind us then cracked and rang as if spit from a whip. The sharp steel of my over-sized skates etched unspeakable joy into the slate-grey, reptilian skin of Walden Pond. Our mismatched hands gripped together in the...

How To Be Human

by Fitz | July 24, 2015 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

Mark Twain once wrote that it is good to be a good person, but it is better to tell people how to be good--"and a damn sight easier!" So much of my life is lived in response to the moment and not in a practiced and cultivated wisdom. I sat here this morning looking...

The Shapes of Stories

by Fitz | July 9, 2016 | Journal | 0 Comments

While I have always been a storyteller of sorts, I am not much of a writer of stories--but I have always been intrigued by the relative simplicity at the core design level of most books and movies. A lot of it is tied to my love for Joseph Campbell's work on the...

Reflecting on Literature

by Fitz | March 27, 2017 | Essays, Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

I am constantly asking my students (and myself) to reflect on the literature they, and I, read. As I have grown older—and not necessarily wiser—I find myself only reading literature that I am sure will prod me out of my intellectual and emotional torpor, like a lizard...

The End Is the Beginning

by Fitz | September 2, 2014 | Essays, Journal, Teaching | 0 Comments

For the past twenty years this night has always been a bittersweet moment. I have never been hobbled by boredom or a lack of "things I love to do," so whatever supposed free time I have is rewarding in whatever I choose to do. The flip side is that I am teacher, and I...

The Tide

by Fitz | August 31, 2014 | Poetry | 0 Comments

They are building a world and the plastic is fading: Margaret and Eddie's buckets are split, pouring out the warm Atlantic as they race along the tidal flat, filling pools connected by frantically dug canals. Tommy squats naked and screams in guttural joy at the...

The Right Side of the Inevitable

by Fitz | July 27, 2016 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

Like birds of a feather, we gather together, 'Cuz they're feeling exactly like you... ~John Prine I am not afraid of being a white minority. I had lunch today with a Jamaican drummer, a Ugandan farmer, and a Senagalese potter. I don’t say this out of...

Wisdom

by Fitz | May 13, 2016 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

Wisdom starts in non-action… The doing and non-doing are the equal balance. Without the luxury of contemplation there would not be a prioritizing of need versus want. Wisdom balances physical reality… Wisdom does not shuffle tasks out of view but finds a way to...

How do I know

by Fitz | July 8, 2017 | Journal, Poetry | 0 Comments

what I know? The sharp angles of this simple cottage perfected in every board sawn, shingle split and beam hewn into place goes together placed, splined, slid together, bound more by intuition than knowing.

Canobie lake

by Fitz | June 3, 2014 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

Going to Canobie Lake is always the turning point of the year for me. It is like some primal signal that It is time to turn away from the school year and towards the future. Obviously, it is my hope that you learned some useful skills this year, but, more...

Zenmo Yang Ni

by Fitz | August 12, 2014 | Fires in the Belly, Songs | 0 Comments

I lost the time I hardly knew you,
half-assed calling:
“How you doing?
Laughing at my hanging hay field;
I never knew the time
that tomorrow’d bring,
until it brung to me.

Yuan lai jui shuo: “Zenmoyang ni?”
Xianzai chang shu: “Dou hai keyi”;
Xiexie nimen, dou hen shang ni.
Xiwang wo men dou hen leyi
Dou hen leyi

The Next Time Around

by Fitz | April 16, 2016 | Essays, Journal | 0 Comments

I wonder what the years have really taught me about writing and music. I have gotten so used to preaching and teaching that I am a bit looped by the thought of writing—as in how I wrote before (or how I will claim I wrote) before settling into this somewhat...

Thanksgiving

by Fitz | July 30, 2014 | Poetry | 0 Comments

I am surprised sometimesby the suddenness of November:beauty abruptly shedto a common nakedness--grasses deadenedby hoarfrost,persistent memoriesof people I’ve lost.It is left to those of us dressed in the hard barky skin of experienceto insist on a decorumthat rises...

Crows & Swallows Release

by Fitz | October 21, 2017 | Journal | 0 Comments

There is seldom a red-carpet celebration when a book of poetry is released, so I will keep this a quiet and humble affair. My newest book of poetry, “Crows & Swallows” is now on iBooks, so fresh you can almost smell the ink. My business model is unchanged: It is a...

The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Songs of the Sea

Coast of High Barbary

Farewell to Nova Scotia

Fiddler’s Green

Leave Her Johnny Leave Her

Hanging Johnny

Cape Cod Girls

Rolling Down to Old Maui

Rolling Home

Sloop John B

The Flying Cloud

Lady Franklins Lament

Greenland Whale Fisheries

Mingulay Boat Song

Contact Fitz!