Mike Campbell

Mike Campbell


I perform story songs about Alaska, places I've been and people I've known. I write about family, friends and everyday things. And I write songs that make audiences laugh out loud and leave my show humming my tunes. My voice remind folks of Roger Whittaker and Tennessee Ernie Ford.


Mike Campbell
Alaskan Folksinger/Story Teller

Singer/Songwriter Mike Campbell works as a Weights and Measures Inspector for the State of Alaska. His duties take him to many remote communities in the “Last Frontier” and this extensive travel gives him abundant material for his songs. Mike’s CD’s “The Sculptor” (1994), “High Country” (1996), “Sad Eyes” (2000) and “Mars Outback (2005) show his diversity of styles from ballads to sea songs to his unique brand of Alaskan humor.

Mike regularly performs at music festivals, concerts, trade shows and other folk venues all ever Alaska. On occasion, he has traveled outside Alaska and presented his songs in Colorado, Washington, Maryland, Arizona and at festivals and folk clubs in England. He is best known for his deep bass-baritone vocals as well as the high quality of his song writing. When you see this performer listed on the program, you can be assured of a great evening of music to come.

“If Roger Whittaker and Tennessee Ernie Ford could have a baby, it would sound just like Mike Campbell.” Matt Hammer, Great Alaskan Opry

“With music ranging through folk, country, popular theatre and other styles, (Campbell) has an interesting mix of well-written story songs performed with just the right level of drama by a man with a powerful voice.” Bob Mackenzie, Sound Bytes, Toronto, Ontario

“Campbell weaves Alaskan landscape and emotions together with the ease of an accomplished songwriter. His ability to perform in front of a crowd is just as impressive as his musical talent.” Deanna Thomas, Alaska Star Newspaper



Written By: Mike Campbell

There’s a race across the frozen snow and its run from Anchorage into Nome,
Across a land that was built by God, it’s a race they call Iditarod,
I’ve run that race myself three times, when I’d lose I’d start to crying,
Figured I’d never race again until I found me a way to win.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

So I got me a mail order PhD in bio-medical-genealogy,
I needed dogs that were fast and mean so I started into splicing genes.
I got chromosomes from a thoroughbred mare, pitbull, cheetah and a grizzly bear,
Added some wolverine and gazelle, a little bit of road runner, “What the hell!”.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

I spliced them all to some Husky genes, there was just enough to make me a team,
I crossed my fingers and I made a wish, and tossed each one in a Petrie dish.
Well three months later them pups were born they had spotted hair, hooves and horns,
They were big and mean and awful strong and each one thought I was his mom.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

Well finally race day came around and I brought my team into Anchor town.
We went running off down the street with a growl and a whinny and a “beep, beep”.
Out of Wasilla, into Knik, running so fast it was making me sick,
Through Yentna, Skwentna, mountains high, we were third into Nikolai.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

We rested for twenty-four in McGrath, out of Ophir moving fast,
Underneath the sky so blue, out of Kaltag number two,
Against the wind across ice so thick, first place into Shaktoolik,
But while we were running along, I could tell there was something going wrong.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

So I set up my electron microscope, gave one of my dogs a needle poke,
Put some blood into that machine, but then I couldn’t believe what I was seeing,
The gazelle genes were starting to shake, the bear genes wanted to hibernate,
The thoroughbred genes still wanted to run, but each of them wolverine genes were done.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

They were flopping around like a bunch of bats, their insides fighting like dogs and cats,
Facial ticks and burps and farts, their double helix was falling apart.
At Safety, they gave a mighty roar, broke their lines and away they tore,
Out across the tundra gray, in each of sixteen different ways.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

Now I pulled that sled all on my own,
I was sixty-third under the arch in Nome,
And not one single dog was left,
Of the team I thought would win that test.

But I know that they are out there still, they’d be too difficult to kill,
You’d need fourteen tags and permits too, like getting permission to shoot a zoo.
So if you ever run into my hybrid beasts, take a photograph at least,
Give them my best as they run by, and let them know that their mom says, “Hi”.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.
Iditarod, Iditarod, OOOOO Iditarod.

Back In The Clydesdale

Written By: Mike Campbell

I went to the bar after working all day,
And ordered a dark Guinness Beer.
But the Yuppies were chatting so thick on their cell phones,
I guess the barman did not hear.
He brought me a glass and a tall boy of Bud,
And set them down in front of me,
Well I coughed and I sputtered in pure disbelief,
And sang out this chorus with glee.

Put that Budweiser back in the Clydesdale,
Its not the right flavor for me.
The color’s all wrong and there’s not enough foam,
And its got all the kick of weak tea.
Now pour me a pint of that good Guinness Stout,
With color you cannot see through.
Put that Budweiser back in the Clydesdale, boys,
And pour me a beer that is true.

Then the waitress came by when I’d finished my first one,
An angry young woman named Jill,
She snatched up my empty without even looking,
And went off to find a refill.
Then she brought back a glass of some pale liquid garbage,
And said, “Here’s the Bud you asked for.”
Well I gave her a glare that would knock down a horse,
And sang out this chorus once more.


So if ever you’re seeking a beer with good flavor,
To finish your day or your meal.
If they serve you a Millers, a Coors or a Bud,
Or some other brand that ain’t real,
If the “King of Beers” is the only selection,
I hope that you’ll answer like this,
Put that Budweiser back in the Clydesdale, boys,
I won’t drink twelve ounces of that lousy beer.


All My Troubles Go By

Written By: Mike Campbell

There’s cows in the pasture, there’s wheat in the field,
There’s clouds rolling in with the storm.
There’s holes in the fence and there’s hay to be baled,
There’s always some pest in the corn.
There’s droughts and there’s floods and there’s bills to pay,
OOOOO Sometimes my worries pile high,
But when these things happen, I remember your face,
And all of my troubles go by.

All of my troubles go by, go by,
All of my troubles go by.
I simply remember your beautiful face,
And all of my troubles go by.

Now sometimes I walk a lonely road,
Not knowing just where it might lead.
And sometimes I feel like my heart might break,
It causes my soul to bleed.
And sometimes I wish I could fly away,
OOOOO Sometimes I just want to cry.
But when these things happen I remember your face,
And all of my troubles go by.

All of my troubles go by, go by,
All of my troubles go by.
I simply remember your beautiful face,
And all of my troubles go by.


1994 "The Sculptor" - 10 original songs on CD
1996 "High Country" - 12 original songs on CD
2000 "Sad Eyes" - 14 original songs on CD
2005 "Mars Outback" - 13 original songs on CD

My songs are played regularly on public radio stations all across Alaska and the rest of the United States. Two of my songs have been recorded by other artists and many folks in England and the USA sing my songs in song circles and festivals.

Set List

At festivals I normally perform two or three 45 minute sets over a festival weekend. In a concert setting, I usually do a two hour show with a 10 minute break in the middle. I play mostly my original songs with a few covers sprinkled in.

List of my songs:
Falling in Love
Traveling Marilyn
Highway of Dreams
Back In The Clydesdale
Sad Eyes
Rainy Day Blues
Burn That Bridge
Pint Of Your Beer
High Country
All My Troubles Go By
Sailor's Lament
Down To The Islands
Evil Freddy
I'll Always Be In Love
Seventh Son
I Never Told You
Snowshoe Shuffle
Turnagain Waltz
Whiskey John
Wilderness Letters
When Your Ship Comes In
Shenandoah Roll On Home
Anniversary Song
Trailer Park Song
Mars Outback
Salmon Love
Hate To See You Go
First Kil
Feeling Like A Rock
Free Walter
Christmas Without Snow
Little Jim
William Wallace
The Sculptor
Calypso In Alaska
Johnny Come And Do