Sheep’s Clothing

Sheep's Clothing

Released March 1, 2020
Engineered, mixed, and mastered by Scooter Muse at Saddell Abbey Studio
Produced by Wolf Loescher and Matthew Williams
Graphic design by Tony Horning


Wolf Loescher – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
Scooter Muse – Acoustic Guitar, MIDI Bass, MIDI Percussion
Jil Chambless – Vocals, Flute, Whistle
Beth Paxton – Vocals, Bass, Charango, Antara
Rich Brotherton – Electric Guitar
Mari Black – Fiddle
Tim Britton – Flute, Whistle, Small Pipes
EJ Jones – Flute, Whistle
Frances Cunningham – Tenor Banjo, Vocals
Gordon McLeod – Fiddle, Whistle
David Bade – Bass, Cello
Jeremy Greenhouse – Fiddle
Rodger Harrison – Bass
Kendall Rodgers – Accordion
Amanda Williams Ware – Vocals, Claps
Rachel Williams – Vocals, Claps
Matthew Williams – Tamborine, Claps


An anthem of hope and righteous anger that reminds us there are things worth fighting for. Deanna was a great singer, a great songwriter, and a great person…and her passing has left a giant Deanna-shaped hole in my universe.

We come from every corner, we speak in every tongue
Brought here by a vision of what is soon to come
No longer will we stand for hatred, bigotry, and fear
The call of peace and justice is what has brought us here
The world that we’ve been given is not so large a place
That we can stand divided by philosophy and race
Wisdom, truth, and beauty dwell in every human heart
United we are more than we could ever be apart
United we are more than we could ever be apart

We are carved from the ancient souls of those who came before
We take what we’ve been given then set out in search of more
Much less than we could be, much more than we had planned
Love is all encompassing, and the circle must expand
Love is all encompassing, and the circle must expand

The speakers and the wise ones who lead us to this place
Call on every one of us to be love’s human face
To rise up from the shadows, to turn and face the sun
To carry on the work that was so long ago begun
Each man must look inside himself, each woman make her choice
To stand against injustice, to raise a common voice
To cast aside the petty fears that chain us to the past
To give our children’s children a legacy that will last
To give our children’s children a legacy at last

Words by Deanna Smith Scotland, Music by Wolf Loescher
© Off Hand Productions
WL – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
SM – Acoustic Guitar
RB – Electric Guitar
RH – Bass
EJ – Flute, Whistle
FC – Tenor Banjo, Vocals
JC – Vocals
AW – Vocals
RW – Vocals

Cold Missouri Waters

Dedicated to forest firefighters everywhere, but especially the smokejumpers. Based on the book “Young Men and Fire” by Norman Maclean.

My name is Dodge but then you know that
It’s written on the chart there at the foot end of the of the bed
They think I’m blind that I can’t read it
I’ve read it every word and every word it says is death
So confession? Is that the reason that you came
Get it off my chest before I check out of the game
Since you mention it well there’s thirteen things I’ll name
Thirteen crosses high above the cold Missouri waters

August ‘49, north Montana
The hottest day on record the forest tinder dry
Lightning strikes in the mountains
I was crew chief at the jump base, I prepared the boys to fly
Pick the drop zone C47 comes in low
Feel the tap upon your leg that tells you go
See the circle of the fire down below
Fifteen of us dropped above the cold Missouri waters

Gauged the fire, I’d seen bigger
So I ordered them to side hill we’d fight it from below
We’d have our backs to the river
We’d have it licked by morning even if we took it slow
But the fire crowned jumped the valley just ahead
There was no way down, headed for the ridge instead
Too big to fight it we’d have to fight that slope instead
Flames one step behind above the cold Missouri waters

Sky had turned red, smoke was boiling
Two hundred yards to safety, death was fifty yards behind
I don’t know why I just thought it
I struck a match to waist high grass running out of time
Tried to tell them step into this fire I’ve set
We can’t make it this is the only chance you’ll get
But they cursed me, ran for the rocks above instead
I lay face down and prayed above the cold Missouri waters

Then when I rose like the phoenix
In that world reduced to ashes, there was none but two survived
I stayed that night and one day after
Carried bodies to the river, wondering how I stayed alive
Thirteen stations of the cross to mark their fall
I’ve had my say I’ll confess to nothing more
I’ll join them now those that they left me long before
Thirteen crosses high above the cold Missouri waters

Words and music by James Keelaghan
© BMG Bumblebee o/b/o Green Linnet Music
WL – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
SM – Guitar
RH – Bass
JG – Violin
DB – Cello

Tramps and Hawkers

Learned from the singing of The Corries and Battlefield Band.

I dreamed a dream the other night, a dream o’ long ago
I saw yin o’ the travelin’ folk along the open road
His step was light, his head held high to catch the scent o’ spring
An’ his voice rang roon the countryside as he began to sing

O come a’ ye tramps an’ hawker lads, ye gaitherers o’ blo’
That tramp the country roon an’ roon, come listen ain an’ a’
I’ll tell tae ye a rovin’ tale, o’ sights that I hae seen
Far off intae the snowy north, an’ south by Gretna Green

I’ve traveled roon the Lothian lan’s, I’ve seen the rushin’ Spey
I’ve been by Crieff an’ Calander, an’ by the shores o’ Loch Tay
I’ve watched the rain on the border hills, an’ the mist in northern glens
An’ I’ve bedded doon beneath the moon in corries naebedy kens

An’ I’m often doon by Gallowa’, an’ roon about Stranraer
My business takes me aunywhere, sure I travel near an’ far
For I’ve a rovin’ in my blood, an’ there’s nothin’ I dae lack
As long as I’ve my daily fare, an’ a claethes upon my back

I’m happy in the summertime beneath the bright blue sky
Ne’er thinkin’ in the mornin’ at night where I will lie
Old barn or byre or aunywhere, or oot amang the hay
An’ if the weather does permit, I’m happy every day

I think I’ll go tae Paddy’s Lan’, I’m makin’ up my mind
For Scotlan’s greatly altered noo, I cannae raise the wind
But I will trust in Providence, if Providence proves true
An’ I will sing o’ Erin’s Isle when I come back tae you

When I’d awoken from my dream the dawn song had begun
The birds sang oot their auld auld songs tae greet the rising sun
I lay among the shadows, an’ I thought o’ days long gone
An’ those wanderin’ tramps an’ hawker lads whose days are surely done

Traditional (Scotland)
WL – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
SM – Guitar, MIDI bass
JC – Vocal, Flute, Whistle

Bill Hosie

“A love that dare not speak it’s name” between a man and his restored vintage seaplane.

Bill Hosie built a plane
A survivor from the Schneider Trophy Race
Seemed like a nice old guy
With his baseball cap and his sun-slit eyes
He took the airframe, motor, and wings
And restored all the fabric, the floats, and the straps, and things
And the shark on banana skis
Was heard to roar once more over Cornwall seas

In the ’27 Schneider Race
It was a Supermarine that took first place
The year Bill Hosie was born
When there were still tall ships sailin’ round Cape Horn
And the S.5 Supermarine
Was the fastest Seaplane the world had ever seen
Nearly 300 miles an hour
With a Napier inline engine to give her power

And her daughters flew in World War Two
Their pilots were known as the first of the few
When the Battle of Britain raged
The Spitfire blazed across a history page
But Bill Hosie built a dream
To haunt the skies with the ghost of a Supermarine
And she rose on the steppe again
With the spirit of a Schneider Trophy racing plane

She took to the cool spring air
With Bill Hosie sitting in the pilot’s chair
She banked along the Cornwall shore
Her tail broke away and she flew no more
She fell from her flight of grace
The year they revived the Schneider Trophy race
And the Supermarine.S5
Was the plane that made Bill Hosie feel alive

Words and Music by Archie Fisher
© Mechanical Copyright Protection Society, Ltd
WL – Vocals, bouzouki
SM – Acoustic guitars, MIDI bass, MIDI percussion
KR- Accordion
TB – Whistle

Free in the Harbor

Jobs change over time everywhere, and this song is about Canadian whalers who found new jobs in the oilfields of Alberta. Someday, somebody is going to write a song about autonomous vehicles taking over the trucking industry.

Well it’s blackfish at play in Hermitage Bay
From Pushthrough across to Bois Island
They broach and they sprout and they lift their flukes out
And they wave to a town that is dying
Now it’s many’s the boats that have plied on the foam
Hauling away! Hauling away!
But there’s many more fellows been leaving their homes,
Where whales make free in the harbour

It’s at Portage and Main you’ll see them again
On their way to the hills of Alberta
With lop-side grins, they waggle their chins
And they brag of the wage they’ll be earning
Then it’s quick, pull the string boys, and get the tool out,
Haul it away! Haul it away!
But just two years ago you could hear the same shout
Where the whales make free in the harbour

Free in the harbour; the blackfish are sporting again
Free in the harbour; untroubled by comings and goings of men
Who once did pursue them as oil from the sea
Hauling away! Hauling away!
Now they’re Calgary roughnecks from Hermitage Bay,
Where the whales make free in the harbour

Well, it’s living they’ve found, deep in the ground
And if there’s doubts, it’s best they ignore them
Nor think on the bones, the crosses and stones
Of their fathers that came there before them
In the taverns of Edmonton, fishermen shout
Haul it away! Haul it away!
They left three hundred years buried up the Bay
Where the whales make free in the harbour

Words and Music by Stan Rogers
© Fogarty’s Cove and Cole Harbour Music
WL – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
SM – Guitar
JC – Vocal
BP – Bass
GM – Fiddle, Whistle

Lads Among Heather

A song of Scottish pride that I learned from The Corries.

Come all ye young lassies whar hae ye been
Sae sleepy and drowsy, I ken by your een
In all the wide world, you’ll ne’er find a frien’
Like the lads that were reared among heather

Awa’ wi’ yer satins, yer silks and yer shawls
Yer soirees and yer parties and yer elegant balls
For a dance in the barn’s worth ten in the hall
Wi’ the lads that were reared among heather

Tak’ a walk roon yer cities, braw buildings ootside
Gaze on the splendors and the wonder with pride
Fine ships have been built on the banks o’ the Clyde
By the lads that were reared among heather

When the queen needs some soldiers, she kens whaur to send
To the mountains and valleys, the hills and the glens
Wi’ their bonnets and plaids, aye true tae the end
Are the lads that were reared among heather

Now England can boast of her sweet-scented rose
And Ireland can boast of the shamrock she grows
But gi’ me the land where the clear water flows
And the mountains are covered with heather

Traditional (Scotland)
WL – Lead vocal, bouzouki, percussion
SM – Guitars, MIDI bass
JC – Harmony vocal
KR – Accordion
TB – Flute, small pipes


I went out on a bit of limb covering such an iconic song, but thanks to my musical collaborators I think we managed to do justice to this beautiful song.

Silently the morning mist is lying on the water
Captives moonlight waiting for the dawn
Softly like a baby’s breath, a breeze begins to whisper
The sun is coming, quick you must be gone

Smiling like a superstar the morning comes in singing
The promise of another sunny day
And all the flowers open up to gather in the sunshine
I do believe that summer’s here to stay

Do you care what’s happening around you?
Do your senses know the changes when they come?
Can you see yourselves reflected in the season?
Can you understand the need to carry on?

Riding on the tapestry of all there is to see
So many ways, and oh, so many things
Rejoicing in the differences, there’s no one just like me
Yet as different as we are, we’re still the same

And oh, I love the life within me
I feel the part of everything I see
And oh, I love the life around me
A part of everything is here in me
A part of everything is here in me
A part of everything is here in me

Words and Music by John Denver, Mike Taylor, and Dick Kniss
© Kobalt Music Pub America I o/b/o Dino Park Publishing, Reservoir Media Music
© Kobalt Music Pub America I o/b/o JdLegacy Publishing
© Wc Music Corp. o/b/o Jesse Belle Denver
© Kobalt Music Pub America I o/b/o My Pop’s Songs, and CopyrightControl

WL – Lead vocal, bouzouki, percussion
SM – Guitars, MIDI bass
JC – Harmony vocal, flute, whistle
MB – Violin

Johnny Gallacher

Yet another Scottish song about the joys of taking the “King’s shilling” and joining the army.

Oh as I was a walkin’ by the Ugie one day
I met Sergeant Kerry by chance on my way
He says “Johnny Gallacher, you’re a handsome young man
Would you cam doon tae the Ugie wi’ me for a dram?”

Well we sat in the alehoose just takin’ oor dram
He says “Johnny Galacher, wid you prove you’re a man?
Wid you list and tak’ the bounty and come awa’ wi’ me
Far ower the ocean strange places to see?”

He put his hand in his pocket, and a shillin’ he drew
“Tak’ this, my brave laddie, and ye will never rue!”
It was then I was listed and a bargain it was made
And the ribbons they were brought and put on my cockade

And a curse on that sergeant and his lyin’ tongue
A curse on the day that I follaed a drum
One nicht in the guardroom an’ the next in the jail
With nae’ cardboard nor blankets tae wrap mysel’ in

Bad luck on my uncle, wherever he may be
For he was the first man that ever ruined me
Had he been an honest man an’ had learnt me a trade
Then I never would have listed, nor worn the cockade
No I never would have listed, nor worn the cockade

Traditional (Scotland)
WL – Vocals, bouzouki
SM – Guitars, MIDI bass
TB – Whistle

If I Had a Boat

My Texas roots are showing! Deanna suggested I balance out the album with some “lighter” songs, and I always loved her version of this one.

And if I had a boat
I’d go out on the ocean
And if I had a pony
I’d ride him on my boat
And we could all together
Go out on the ocean
I said me upon my pony on my boat

Now if I were Roy Rogers
I’d sure enough be single
I couldn’t bring myself to marrying old Dale
It’d just be me and Trigger
We’d go ridin’ through them movies
And we’d buy a boat and on the sea we’d sail

And now the mystery masked man was smart
He got himself a Tonto
‘Cause Tonto did the dirty work for free
But Tonto he was smarter
And one day said, “Kemo sabe
Kiss my ass I bought a boat
I’m going out to sea”

And if I were like lightning
I wouldn’t need no sneakers
Well I’d come and go whenever I would please
And I’d scare ’em by the shade tree
And I’d scare ’em by the light pole
But I would not scare my pony
On my boat out on the sea

Words and Music by Lyle Lovett
© Michael H Goldsen, Inc.
WL – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
SM – Guitar
JC – Vocals, Whistle
RH – Bass
KR – Accordion
GM – Fiddle

Inside Every Sailor

It’s all about perspective.

Inside every sailor you’ll find a young man
Itching to get to sea, soon as he can
To see all them pretty girls, dusky and brown
And to get far away from his boring home-town

Inside every sailor’s heart you’ll find a girl
Who is constant and true, she’s a jewel, a pearl
But she’s like any other girl, happy or sad
It’s just this one’s in love with a wandering lad

Inside every kind of ship black, green or gray
There are men with their eyes fixed on things far away
Beyond the horizon, ahead or behind
Will the dream that they’re searching for be what they find?

Inside every sailor you’ll find an old man
With rose coloured memories of where he began
Where he dreamed of pretty girls, dusky and brown
And he longs to get back to his boring home-town

Words and Music by Tom Lewis
© Self Propelled Music
WL – Vocals

Three Thousand Miles

Growing up in Central Texas, I thought that Eau Claire, Wisconsin sounded like an exotic, mystical place (kind of like Narnia or Middle Earth)…until I actually went there.

My name is Robert Wilson, I’m from Eau Claire, Wisconsin
I’ve been living out of a suitcase now for fourteen days
I walked the boulevard in Hollywood
I caught a Vegas show that was no good
Met a dancer there who starred in a broadway play
But it’s a lonely world from this Greyhound
Believe me, I’ve been here fourteen days

Three thousand miles
I’ve come a long, long way
Three thousand miles

Now twenty-one is as good a guess as any age that I’d confess to
Let’s just say I’m old enough to get away
Back in school, I found the only written truth
On bathroom stalls and telephone booths
I studied awhile, but college got in my way
I’ve learned much more from the back of this Greyhound
Believe me, I’ve been here fourteen days

Have you seen? The world outside is turning
And it’s yours – we were put here for the learning
People talk to themselves on Greyhounds
Even the driver strains to hear
They tell the same forgotten story
Will it fall on forgetful ears?

Down in Houston on comes this woman
With two kids and a bottle of booze
And she cracked them both like match heads
Whenever they ventured too close to her fuse
And I sat with a girl from Boston
We were playing cards for cigarettes
I lost her name in a poker game
But her face I will never forget
You never forget the view from these windows
Believe me, I’ve been here fourteen days

Words and Music by Ellis Paul
© Ellis Paul Publishing
WL – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
SM – Acoustic Guitars
RB – Electric Guitar
JC – Vocals
DB – Bass
AW – Vocals, Claps
RW – Vocal, Claps
MW – Tamborine, Claps

Take Some Fire

An original song by my friend Beth, who joins me on bass, vocals, antara, charango, chupacabra, chimichanga, and all you can eat churros.

When the weeping willow grants you a place to grieve your loss
When the fire-crested healer sees your bones of shame
When the lowly worm turns silent in a pod of introspection
It’s then you’ll find a voice to reclaim

The weeping willow once lay choking with a deadly blight
And the fire-crested healer once lay frozen in the snow
You, too, will overcome, though your journey will be hard
And you must take some fire when you go

Celebrate your anger, and be baptized in your tears
For a wisdom lives within you, as only you can know
Prepare yourself for battle, and your flight into the storm
And you must take some fire when you go

When a thousand fallen heroes turn against you in the dark
And your guardian angels here on earth turn a deaf ear towards your cries
When you perform great miracles that no one seems to see
And your good intentions fall by the wayside

When the ice you tread is fragile in the endless winter night
And below its frozen surface are the memories within
The water will still haunt you until you give it some release
As a wound must bleed to cleanse itself again

Celebrate your anger, and be baptized in your tears
For a wisdom lives within you, as only you can know
Prepare yourself for battle, and your flight into the storm
And you must take some fire when you go
Like the kindness of a stranger who sees you safely home
Your fury will propel you to that freedom you desire
That spark that once eluded you now illuminates your smile
And it comes when you take fire

When the need for instant comfort leads you to the poisoned stream
As it strips you of your armor and lances you with pain
When the mask you wear of silence bears a stoic web of scars
And there are secrets you no longer can contain

When a phantom terror drains you of the life you never knew
When your spirit of survival is exhausted to the core
When the sadness of unlearning lies behind your tired eyes
Of one who’s seen it all and then some more

Celebrate your anger, and be baptized in your tears
For a wisdom lives within you, as only you can know
Prepare yourself for battle, and your flight into the storm
And you must take some fire when you go
Like the kindness of a stranger who sees you safely home
Your fury will propel you to that freedom you desire
That spark that once eluded you now illuminates your smile
And it comes when you take fire

Words and Music by Beth Paxton
© Speak Jolly Music, BMI
WL – Vocals, Bouzouki, Percussion
SM – Guitar
BP – Vocals, Bass, Charango, Antara

Thanks to…

Christina – the greatest fan of my life. Cidnie Carroll for vocal coaching and encouragement, the Quillin quorum, Grandfather Mountain Highland Games, North Texas Irish Festival, the Piper Jones Band, Sweet Colleens, Paul Broussard @ Leap Studios, Scott Hill, Christopher Smith, Alexander Stewart, Richard & Janell Kean, Alison Madson, Hollywood & Jefe (the focus group), all my Kickstarter backers, and all the talented musicians and recording engineers who contributed to this project.

Dedicated to my friend and musical collaborator Deanna Smith Scotland…
“Love is all encompasing, and the circle must expand.”

…and to Neil Ellwood Peart, OC
“We are only immortal for a limited time.” “Be your own hero.”