northwoods songs - evergreentrad

23 Aug

Just Twenty Years Ago

I wandered to the village, Tom, and sat beneath the tree,
Upon the school house playing ground, that sheltered you and me,
But none were there to greet me, Tom, and few were left to know,
Who played with me upon the green, just twenty years ago.

The grass is just as green, dear Tom; barefooted boys at play,
Were sporting just as we were then, with spirits just as gay,
But the master sleeps upon the hill, which, coated o’er with snow,
Afforded us a sliding place, just twenty years ago.

The river’s running just as still, the willows on its side,
Are larger than they were, dear Tom, the stream appears less wide
The grape vine swing is ruined now, where once we played the beau,
And swung our sweethearts—pretty girls—just twenty years ago.

The old school house is altered some, the benches are replaced,
By others very like the ones our penknives had defaced,
The same old bricks are in the walls, the bell swings to and fro,
Its music’s just as sweet, dear Tom, as twenty years ago.

The spring that bubbled ‘neath the hill, close by the spreading beach,
Is very high—’twas once so low—that I could scarcely reach,
And stooping down to get a drink, dear Tom, I started so!
To see how much that I was changed, since twenty years ago.

Close by this spring, upon an elm, you know I cut your name,
Your sweetheart’s just beneath it, Tom, and you did mine the same,
Some heartless wretch has peeled the bark, ’tis dying sure, but slow,
Upon the graves of those we loved, just twenty years ago.

My heart was very sad, dear Tom, and tears came in my eyes,
I though[t] of her I loved so well, those early broken ties,
I visited the old churchyard, and took some flowers to strew,
Upon the graves of those we loved, just twenty years ago.

Some now in that churchyard lay, some sleep beneath the sea,
But few are left of our old class, excepting you and me,
And when our time shall come, dear Tom, and we are called to go,
I hope they’ll lay us where we played, just twenty years ago.

We return this month to the book Jim’s Western Gems, a collection of songs and poems self-published in Minneapolis in 1913 by James J. Somers, a second-generation Irish-American born in the Georgian Bay region of Ontario. I shared five of Somers’ own compositions last year but the (text-only) book also includes some traditional songs including the above text.

Edward “Sandy” Ives collected the nostalgic “Twenty Years Ago” from John Banks of Prince Edward Island in 1968 and published that version in the book Drive Dull Care Away. Banks used a version of the “Banks of the Nile” melody for the song. “Banks of the Nile” was sung in Minnesota by Michael Dean so, above, I have wed the Somers text with Dean’s melody for a fully Minnesotan version!

The song is likely of American origin and it appears in published song books at least as early as 1859.

22 Aug

Once More A-Lumbering Go

Come all you sons of freedom in Minnesot-i-ay,
Come all you roving lumberjacks and listen to my strain,
On the banks of the Rum River where the limpid waters flow,
We will range the wild woods over and once more a-lumbering go,

And once more a lumbering go,
We will range the wild woods over and once more a-lumbering go.

With our cross-cut saws and axes we will make the woods resound,
And many a tall and stately tree will come crashing to the ground,
With cant-hooks on our shoulders to our boot tops deep in snow,
We will range the wild woods over and once more a-lumbering go,

And once more a lumbering go,
We will range the wild woods over and once more a-lumbering go.

You may talk about your farms, your houses and fine places,
But pity not the shanty boys while dashing on their sleigh,
For around the good campfire at night we’ll sing while wild winds blow,
And we’ll range the wild woods over and once more a-lumbering go,

And once more a-lumbering go,
We will range the wild woods over and once more a-lumbering go.

Then when navigation opens and the water runs so free,
We’ll drive logs to St. Anthony once more our girls to see,
They will all be there to welcome us and our hearts in rapture flow,
We will stay with them through summer then once more a-lumbering go,

And once more a-lumbering go,
We will stay with them through summer, then once more a-lumbering go.

When our youthful days are ended and our stories are growing old,
We’ll take to us each man a wife and settle on the farm,
Enough to eat, to drink, to wear; content through life we go,
We will tell our wives of our hard times, and no more a-lumbering go,

And no more a-lumbering go,
We will tell our wives of our hard times, and no more a-lumbering go.

I am working this month with St. Paul playwright Jeremiah Gamble of the Bucket Brigade Theater on a new play called Shanty Boys of Pine County that will feature songs and stories from my research. One song we were considering for the play is “Once More A-Lumbering Go” (sometimes called “The Logger’s Boast”) as recorded by Alan Lomax in St. Louis, Michigan in 1938 from the singing of Carl Lathrop. I learned Lathrop’s version years ago. It features place names of the Saginaw area and, as I am always drawn to Minnesota-specific songs, I stopped singing it at some point.

Much to my delight, when I started looking around for other versions, I came across a fragment localized to the Rum River here in Minnesota! It turns up in an intriguing article published April 27, 1947 in the Minneapolis Journal about the establishment here of a Folk Arts Foundation of Minnesota. The article references the Finnish and Scots Gaelic songs recorded by Sidney Robertson in northeastern Minnesota (see Laura MacKenzie’s wonderful From Uig to Duluth project!) and calls for more field recording to be done in Minnesota.

The article includes a fragment of “Once More A-Lumbering Go” submitted by Elizabeth Sadley of Minneapolis. Sadley writes:

…I am sending you the words, as far as I can recall, of a lumberjack song that my mother used to sing.

My mother has been dead several years, and the verses here are only a fragment of the entire song. Perhaps some one of my mother’s generation can complete the words. The tune is very simple.

My family moved to Princeton, Minn., about 1875. My father operated two grist mills and supplied the lumber camps in the Mille Lac lake area. This song was sung by the lumberjacks who floated the logs down both branches of the Rum river to the saw mills.

Sadley’s fragment is lines 3 & 4 of the first and last verses above along with the chorus of verse one. I created lines 1 & 2 of the first and fourth verses to further localize the song to the Rum River story and transcribed the rest of the text and melody from Lomax’s recording of Lathrop.

22 Aug

The Dublin Dancing Master

In Dublin city once there lived a cratur gay and hearty,
A dancing master he by trade his name was Teddy McCarthy,
He taught the girls and boys to dance and none could do it faster,
He always danced so neat and nice, the Dublin dancing master.

Down the middle, hands across, go a little faster,
In and out and round about, the Dublin dancing master.

Now Teddy taught both reels and jigs and all the other dances,
From highland fling to plain quadrille to please the ladies’ fancies,
Patsy Whelan, Mickey Flynn and a boy called Kit McAstor,
Came to learn a highland fling from the Dublin dancing master

Thus Teddy got the boys and girls proficient in their dances,
Polkas, jigs and schottisches, mazurkas, reels and lancers,
No matter what the dance he taught, none could go it faster,
And none could dance an Irish jig like the Dublin dancing master.

I happened on this song in my monthly search and thought it was the perfect choice as I am thinking this week about the passing of Séamus O’Shea. Séamus was a true modern day Dublin dancing master whose son Cormac carries on the family tradition here in St. Paul. Rest in Peace Séamus.

The Canadian Maritimes are, again, my source for this music hall song that migrated from the vaudeville stage to the voices of singers in their communities. The song was sung at Tony Pastor’s famous New York theater in 1866 by singer William Carleton (not to be confused with the author of the same name). In Eastern Passage, Halifax County, Nova Scotia, it was sung by Ben Henneberry (with fiddle by Ken Faulkner) for Helen Creighton’s recording machine in 1948. You can hear the Henneberry/Faulkner recording at the Nova Scotia Archives site.

The melody above is my transcription of Henneberry’s singing and the text is adapted from Henneberry with additional words from a version printed in Will Carleton’s Dandy Pat Songster (1866).