21 Nov

The Pokegama Bear

One cold frosty morning, the winds, how they blew,
We went to the woods our day’s work for to do,
Yes into the woods we did quickly repair,
It was there that we met the Pokegama Bear.

Now, Morris O’Hern was a bold Irish lad,
He was building a fire all in a pine stub,
The ring of his ax filled the cold winter air,
When out popped the monstrous Pokegama Bear.

With a roar like a lion O’Hern he did swear,
Saying “Run boys, for God’s sake, for I’ve found a bear.”
When out of the brush Jimmy Quinn he did climb,
“To hell with your bear, kill your own porcupine.”

Now, into the swamp old bruin did go,
Bold O’Hern, and Hasty did quickly pursue,
As on through the brush those bold heroes did tear,
To capture or kill the Pokegama Bear.

Old bruin went mad and for Hasty did steer,
He braced for the blow without dread or fear,
With his teeth firmly set and his ax in the air,
He slipped and fell on the Pokegama Bear.

Now out on the tote road old bruin did go,
He thought that was better than wading in snow,
But little he knew what awaited him there,
For fate was against that Pokegama Bear.

There was old Mike McAlpine of fame and renown,
A noted foot racer on Canadian gound,
He ran up the road, raised his ax in the air,
And he dealt the death blow to Pokegama Bear.

When out to the camp poor old bruin was sent,
To skin him and dress him it was our intent,
And we all agreed that each should have a share,
Of the oil that was in the Pokegama Bear.

And next it was sent to the cook and it fried,
It was all very good it cannot be denied,
“It tastes like roast turkey,” Bill Moneghan did swear,
As he feasted upon the Pokegama Bear.

Now my song is ended, I’m dropping my pen,
And Morris O’Hern, he got the bear skin,
Here’s long life to you, boys, and long growth to your hair,
Since it’s greased with the fat from Pokegama Bear!

I am not the first Minnesotan to be fascinated by old songs that drifted into our state during the old time logging era of the 1800s. Iron Ranger John Berquist (once Minnesota’s state folklorist) was very active for much of his life in the revival and performance of regional folk music and performed several logging camp songs including “The Pokegama Bear” (pronounced “po-KEG-uh-muh”). I only had the pleasure of meeting John once before he passed away in 2016 but he was a friend to many in the Twin Cities music community and collaborated many times with Twin Cities mandolin player Bob Douglas.

I am not sure where John found the text of “The Pokegama Bear” but it is printed in Agnes Larson’s wonderful 1949 book The White Pine Industry in Minnesota as contributed by Michael McAlpine of Grand Rapids, Minnesota (who appears in the song). The song was composed by Frank Hasty (who also appears in the song) in a logging camp in 1874. The bear’s namesake, Pokegama Lake, is just south of Grand Rapids. John Berquist set the text to the “Sweet Betsy from Pike” tune so common in the lumbercamp tradition. John performed the song and gave it to Chicago folk singer Art Thieme who recorded it. I use a variant of the same tune with a couple tweaks inspired by “The Journeyman Tailor” – another song with the “Betsy from Pike” tune that was collected in the north of Ireland and printed in Sam Henry’s Songs of the People.

31 Oct

Three Nations

PrintMusic! 2004 - [Three Nations]

In the year of eighteen hundred, I believe, and twenty-five,
A story true I’ll tell to you as sure as I’m alive,
It was of three jolly heroes bold who happened to meet by chance,
For the sake of fun each man begun his country to advance.

Refrain (use first two lines of melody):
With your shamrock green, the thistle keen, together with the rose,
Your abundant sons with their swords and guns have oft times faced their foes.

Says George “We are a nation that’s proper neat and tall,
There is no one that can us resist, or break our wooden wall,
Oh, our ships can beat all nations no odds would come again’ ’em,”
“Arrah faith” says Pat “you may well say that when the Irish lads are in ’em.” (refrain)

Says Pat “we are a nation that ramble up and down,
And on the fields of battle we are in thousands found.
Give me the Fág an Bealach boys and the Connaught Rangers too,
And we’ll stand our ground ’gin all the French who fought at Waterloo. (refrain)

Says Andrew “We are a nation and that I’ll not deny,
We’ve never lost a battle, nor from our colors fly.
We have often proved good soldiers true where the bullets like hailstones flew,”
“Oh yes” says Pat “I remember that that day at Waterloo.” (refrain)

So Andrew drank to St. Andrew, for to cause another duel,
And George drank to St. George, who did the dragon kill,
And Pat drank to St. Patrick, and he mentioned Wallace too,
And they all shook hands and blessed the land that’s far from Waterloo.
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This rare song harkens back to Napoleon and the English, Scottish and Irish men that fought against him under the English flag. Helene Stratman-Thomas collected it in 1941 from second-generation Scotsman Thomas Hunter [b. 1868] of Galesville, Wisconsin. Hunter learned it on a log drive on the Prairie River north of Grand Rapids, Minnesota, from Ross Byers of Michigan who got it from his own Scottish immigrant father. You can hear Stratman-Thomas’ recording of Hunter online via the wonderful Wisconsin Folksong Collection made available by the University of Wisconsin.

Unsatisfied with Hunter’s melody for the song, I borrowed another popular Great Lakes melody when I recorded “The Three Nations” for my CD Minnesota Lumberjack Songs. Since then, I came across a version sung by Beaver Island, Michigan singer Mike J. O’Donnell (recorded in 1938 by Ivan Walton). O’Donnell uses the above air which I think works quite well. O’Donnell (a source for last month’s song as well) learned it from Hughie Boyle of Harbor Springs, Michigan.

The Napoleonic Wars actually had a hand in spurring the northwoods song tradition itself. Napoleon’s blockade British shipping routes to Baltic timber suppliers helped open up Canadian forests as a source for replenishing the British fleet. Timber ships heading from Liverpool to St. John, New Brunswick or Quebec City for Canadian timber brought thousands of war-weary Irish settlers to Canada where they worked in the woods, sang songs and made new lives “far from Waterloo.”