31 Oct

The Storm at Sea

Cease rude Boreas blust’ring railer, list ye landsmen all to me,
Messmates hear a brother sailor, sing the dangers of the sea,
From bounding billows first in motion, when the distant whirlwinds rise,
To the tempest-troubled ocean, where the seas contend with skies.

Hark the boson hoarsely bawling, by top sailyards and halyards stand,
Down top gallants quick be hauling, man the top sail hand boys hand,
Now it freshens, set the braces, now the top sail sheets let go,
Luff boys luff don’t make wry faces, up the top sail nimbly clew.

Lovers who on down beds sporting, fondly locked in beauty’s arms,
Fresh enjoyments wonton courting, free from all but love’s alarms,
Round us roars the tempest louder, think what fear each mind appalls,
Harder yet it yet blows harder, now again the boson calls.

The top sail yards point to the wind boys, see all clear to reef each course,
Let the fore sail go, don’t mind boys, though the weather may prove worse,
Fore and aft the main sail sprit set, reef the mizzen see all clear,
Up and each preventer brace get, man the fore sail cheer lads cheer.

Now the dreadful thunder roaring, peal on peal continual crash,
On our heads fierce rainfall pouring, in our eyes blue lightning flash,
One wide water all around us, all above us one black sky,
Different deaths at once surround us, hark what means that dreadful cry?

“The fore mast’s gone” cries every tongue out, o’er our lee twelve feet ’bove deck,
A leak beneath the chest tree’s sprung out, call all hands to clear the wreck,
Quick the land yards cut in pieces, come, my hearts, be stout and bold,
Plum the well the leak increases, four foot water in the hold.

While o’er the ship wild waves are beating, we for wives and children mourn,
Alas, from hence there is no retreating, alas to them there is no return,
Still the leak is gaining on us, both chain pumps are choked below,
Heav’n have mercy here upon us! Only that can save us now.

O’er the lee beam lies the land boys, let the guns o’er board be thrown,
To the pumps come every hand, boys, see our mizzen mast is gone.
The leak we’ve found she cannot poor fast, we’ve lightened her a foot or more,
Up and rig a jury fore mast, she rights she rights, boys we’re off shore,

Now once more on joys we’re thinkin’, since kind fortune spared our lives,
Come the can boys lets be drinkin’, to our sweethearts and our wives.
Fill her up a bout ship wheel it, close to the lips a brimmer join,
Where’s the tempest now who feels it? Now our dangers drown in wine.

This month’s song comes from the repertoire of Reuben Waitstell Phillips (1850-1926) who sent its text to the “Old Songs That Men Have Sung” column of Adventure Magazine in March, 1924. “Old Songs” editor Robert Winslow Gordon later visited Phillips at his home in Chamberlain, Minnesota with his wax cylinder recording machine that same year but no recording of Phillips singing “The Storm at Sea” seems to have survived.

I found the above melody on a recording made in 1939 of singer John Campbell in Underhill, Vermont that is part of the (now digitized) Flanders Ballad Collection. Underhill is just east of Lake Champlain. Phillips grew up in Hopkinton, New York some 70 miles west of that lake. The text above is Phillips’ with many spelling edits (I also filled in the last half of the 7th verse using the Roundelay book mentioned below).

Most of Phillips’ songs are traceable to early 19th or 18th century balladry from England or Scotland that came to New England. “The Storm at Sea” fits this pattern. It appeared in several printed sources in England and Scotland in the 1800s. The song likely originated in the 1700s. For an early printing of the text that some scholars date to the 1780s, see page 125 of the digitized version of the book Roundelay or the New Syren on Google Books.

31 Oct

Young Monroe

Come all you jolly shanty boys, wherever you may be,
I hope you’ll pay attention and listen unto me,
Concerning a young shanty boy so manfully and brave,
It was on a jam at Garray’s rocks where he met with a watery grave.

It was on a Sunday morning as you will quickly hear,
Our logs were piling mountain high, we could not keep them clear,
When the boss he cries, “Turn out, me boys, with hearts devoid of fear,
To break the jam on Garry’s rocks and for Eagantown we’ll steer.”

Some of them were willing, while others they hung back,
To work upon a Sunday they did not think was right,
Until six of our young Canadians they volunteered to go,
And break the jam on Garry’s rocks with their foreman, young Munroe.

They had not rolled off many logs when the boss to them did say,
“I would have you to be on your guard, for this jam will soon give way.”
Those words were scarcely spoken when the jam did break and go,
And carried away those six young men with their foreman, young Munroe.

When the rest of those young shanty boys they came, the news to hear,
In search of their dead bodies for the river they did steer,
When one of their lifeless bodies found to their sad grief and woe,
All cut and mangled on the rocks was the form of young Munroe.

They took him from his watery grave, combed down his coal-black hair,
There was one fair form among them whose cries did rend the air;
There was one fair form among them, a girl from Saginaw town,
Her tears and cries would rend the skies for her lover that was drowned.

Miss Clara was a noble girl, likewise a raftsman’s friend,
Her mother was a widow living by the river’s bend,
The wages of her own true love the boss to her did pay,
And a liberal subscription she received from the shanty boys next day.

They took and buried him decently, being on the tenth of May,
And the rest of you young shanty boys, it’s for your comrade pray!
It is engraved on a little hemlock tree, close by his head it does grow,
The day and date of the drowning of this hero, young Munroe.

Miss Clara did not survive long to her sad grief and woe;
It was less than two weeks after she, too, was called to go,
It was less than two weeks after she, too, was called to go,
And her last request was granted her, to be laid by young Munroe.

Now, any of you shanty boys that would like to go and see,
On a little mound by the river side there grows a hemlock tree;
The shanty boy cuts the woods all round, two lovers here lie low,
Here lies Miss Clara Dennison and her lover, young Munroe.

This month marks the 100-year anniversary of Irish-Minnesotan singer Michael Cassius Dean sending a copy of his song book, The Flying Cloud, to song collector Robert Winslow Gordon. Accompanied by a brief note on a postcard featuring Virginia, Minnesota’s 10-year-old high school building, this parcel led to one of the earliest audio recordings of traditional music in Minnesota. Twelve months later, inspired by this collection of 166 songs from Dean’s repertoire, Gordon went in search of Dean with his wax cylinder recording machine in tow.

Dean’s version of “Young Monroe” was one of the songs recorded by Gordon in September 1924 and the above transcription is my own made from the Gordon recording. The full text above comes from Dean’s book.

“Young Monroe,” often titled “The Jam at Gerry’s Rocks,” was one of the most widely sung come-all-ye type songs about logging work. Versions were collected all over the US and Canada. For a nice recording, check out this one of Ted Ashlaw. Ashlaw lived in a similar part of northern New York to where Dean grew up and his melody, though similar to Dean’s, has some nice twists to it.

31 Oct

Ye Noble Sons of Canardie

Come all you loyal Britons I pray you lend an ear,
Draw up your loyal forces and then your volunteers,
Oh we’re going to fight those Yankee boys, by water and by land,
And we never will return till we conquer swords in hand.
Oh you noble sons of Canardie, come to arms boys come.

O now the time has come, my boys, to cross the Yankee line,
We remember they were rebels once, and conquer’d John Burgoyne.
We’ll subdue those mighty Democrats, and pull their dwellings down,
And we’ll have the states inhabited with subjects to the crown.
Oh you noble sons of Canardie, come to arms boys come.

I’d rather fight the biggest fleet that ever crossed the seas,
Than twenty of those Yankee boys behind their stumps and trees,
For from hedges and from ditches and from every tree and stump,
You can see those sons of b—— those cursed Yankees jump.
Oh we’ve got too far from Canardie, run for life, boys, run.

O Prevost sighed aloud and to his officers did say,
The Yankee troops are hove in sight and hell will be to pay,
Shall we fight like men of courage, and do the best we can,
When we know they’ll flog us two to one, I think we’d better run.
Oh we’ve got too far from Canardie, run for life, boys, run.

The old ’76s marching forth, on crutches they do lean,
With their rifles leveled at us with their specs they take good aim,
And you know there’s no retreat for those who’d rather die than run,
Make no doubt that these are those that conquered John Burgoyne.
Oh we’ve got too far from Canardie, run for life, boys, run.

We’ve reached the British ground, my boys, we’ll have a day of rest,
I wish my soul that I could say ‘twould be a day of mirth,
But I’ve left so many troops behind, it causes me to mourn,
If ever I fight the Yankees more, I’ll surely stay at home.
Now we’ve got back to Canardie, stay at home, boys, stay.

A health to all the British troops, likewise general Prevost,
A health to all our families, and the girls that we love most,
To MacDonough and Macomb, and to every Yankee boy,
Now boys fill up your tumblers for I never was so dry.  
Now we’ve got back to Canardie, stay at home, boys, stay.

For this month’s song, we revisit the repertoire of the Phillips family of Chamberlain, Minnesota for a song about the Battle of Plattsburg during the War of 1812. Collector Robert Winslow Gordon recorded three verses (verses 1, 3 and 5 above) from the Phillips family in September 1924. Interestingly, he chose to record just one verse a-piece from brothers Reuben and Seymore and Reuben’s son Israel. The melody above is my transcription based on the three recordings which are quite similar in melody. Verses 2, 4, 6 and 7 above were taken from an 18 verse printed broadside of the song.

“Canardie” is a poetic reworking of “Canada” and the Phillips family had a close connection to the British invasion, via Canada, of northern New York during the War of 1812. According to Early History of the Town of Hopkinton [NY], Seymour and Reuben’s maternal grandfather Samuel Goodell (1778-1822) was briefly taken prisoner during a British Army raid on Hopkinton, New York’s ample flour supply in February 1814. The nearby Battle of Plattsburgh described in the song proved to be the decisive Yankee victory in the war. The song, though told from the British perspective, is clearly a Yankee composition.

The final verse mentions the two Irish-American military leaders credited with the Plattsburgh victory: US Army Brigadier General Alexander Macomb and naval Master Commandant Thomas Macdonough. Macomb’s father was from Ballynure, County Antrim and Macdonough’s great-grandfather hailed from Leixlip, County Kildare.

Broadside woodcut courtesy of Toronto Public Library’s Digital Archive Ontario