northwoods songs - evergreentrad

19 Mar

As I Rode Down Through Irishtown [The Crimean War] (Laws J9)

As I rode down through Irishtown one evening last July,
The mother of a soldier in tears I did espy,
Saying, “God be with you, Johnnie dear, although you are far away,
For you my heart is breaking since you went to the Crimea.

“Oh, Johnnie, I gave you schooling, I gave you a trade likewise.
You need not have joined the army if you had taken my advise,
You need not go to face the foe where cannons loud do roar,
Think of the thousands that have fallen now upon that Russian shore.

He joined the Fourteenth regiment, it was a splendid corp,
They landed honorable mention upon the Russian shore;
He fought in foreign engagements with the loss of men each day,
And there is many a mother shedding tears for sons that are far away,

“You fought at Kurksharosko where you did not succeed,
Likewise at the valley of Inkerman, where thousands there did bleed,
You fought at Balaklava, too it was there you gained the day,
And my darling is a hero although he’s far away.

“It was when we attacked Sebastapool, it was there you’d see some play,
The very ground we stood upon it shook, the truth I say,
The clouds were black with heavy smoke from bomb shells firing there,
And thousands weltering in their blood that went to fight the Bear.

“The English said they would gain the seas whate’er might be their doom,
And thousands there a-falling, cut down in their youthful bloom,
There Paddy’s sons with English guns their valor did display,
And together with the sons of France, thank God, we gained the day.

“Had your heart been made of iron for them you would shed tears,
To see those heroes falling, cut down in their youthful years,
To see those heroes falling and weltering in their gore,
Far from their home and friends, my boys, upon that Russian shore.

“So now to end and finish and to conclude my song,
I thank the God above me for having survived so long,
Likewise my poor old mother, ’twas her I did adore,
And I hope, dear mother, to meet you safe in Garryowne once more.
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Every town is an “Irishtown” on St. Patrick’s Day but there are also a few places scattered around the world actually named “Irishtown” including a small town in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York. The above version of this song lamenting the sad fate of Irish soldiers in the Crimean War (1853-1856) was sung by Minnesotan Mike Dean (1857-1931) who was born just north of the Adirondacks. “Irishtown” could refer to the Adirondack town, or it could be a simple reference to an Irish neighborhood somewhere else. Versions collected in Ontario and Michigan say “Irish town.”

Dean’s melody is a nicely turned version of the usual one for this song in tradition and it is a well-travelled air associated with many traditional songs including the Scottish “Tramps and Hawkers.” It was also used by song-maker and lumberjack Billy Allen (1843-1929) of Wausau, Wisconsin for his song “Driving Saw Logs on the Plover.” Bob Dylan (born in Duluth just ten years after Dean’s death up the road in Virginia, MN) also seems to have been inspired by this melody in the air he used for his song “I Pity the Poor Immigrant.”

References:
“Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads.” Accessed February 20, 2013. http://www.bodley.ox.ac.uk/ballads/

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More detailed information on this song from the Traditional Ballad Index.

19 Feb

Lost on the Lady Elgin

Up from the poor man’s cottage, forth from the mansion door,
Sweeping across the water and echoing along the shore,
Caught by the morning breezes, borne on the evening gale,
Came at the dawn of morning a sad and solemn wail.

Refrain—

Lost on the Lady Elgin, sleeping to wake no more,
Numbering in death five hundred that failed to reach the shore.

Sad was the wail of children, weeping for parents gone,
Children that slept at evening, orphans woke at morn;
Sisters for brothers weeping, husbands for missing wives,
These were the ties that were severed by those five hundred lives.

Staunch was the noble steamer, precious the freight she bore,
Gaily they loosed their cables a few short hours before,
Proudly she swept our harbor, joyfully rang the bell,
Little they thought ere morning it would peal so sad a knell.

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The side-wheel passenger steamer Lady Elgin was one of many Great Lakes ships to sink in the 1800s. Several songs were inspired by those wrecks and Minnesota singer Mike Dean sang, in addition to this one, another well-travelled Great Lakes shipwreck ballad called “The Persian’s Crew.” The above transcription comes from a 1924 wax-cylinder recording of Dean’s singing and the words come from his songster The Flying Cloud.

Though “Lost on the Lady Elgin” might seem less “Irish” in character than many other songs in Dean’s repertoire, the actual 1860 tragedy that inspired Chicago printer Henry C. Work to write the song was a devastating event for the Irish community of Milwaukee that is still remembered there. The majority of the ship’s 393 passengers that September night were politically-active Irish-men and -women from Milwaukee’s “Third Ward” who had bought tickets on the Lady Elgin to go to Chicago and hear a speech by Democratic presidential candidate Stephen A. Douglas (who was soon to lose to Republican Abraham Lincoln). In the most deadly Great Lakes shipwreck of the 19^th century, between 279 and 350 perished when the lumber schooner Augusta collided with the Lady Elgin in bad weather. Enough of Milwaukee’s influential Irish died that night that some credit the event with transferring political power in Milwaukee from the Irish to the Germans.

References:

Hintz, Martin. Irish Milwaukee. (Images of America). Arcadia Publishing, 2003.
“PS Lady Elgin – Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia.” Accessed January 21, 2013. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PS_Lady_Elgin.
Ratigan, William. Great Lakes Shipwrecks and Survivals. William B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1977.

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More detailed information on this song from the Traditional Ballad Index.

22 Jan

Young Sally Munroe (Laws K11)

Come, all you lads and lassies, I pray you will attend,
And listen to these few lines that I have lately penned,
And I’ll tell you of the hardships that I did undergo,
’Twas all for a lassie called Sally Munroe.

My name it is Jim Dixon, I’m a blacksmith by trade,
And ’twas in the town of Erie where I was born and raised;
From that town to Belfast to work I did go,
A distance in the country from Sally Munroe.

But I promised that fair lady a letter I would send,
And I gave it to a comrade I took to be my friend,
But instead of being a friend of mine, he proved to be my foe,
For he never gave that letter to young Sally Munroe.

But he told her old mother for to beware of me,
That I had a wife in a strange country;
Then says her old mother, “If what you say be so,
He never shall enjoy my young Sally Munroe.”

It was two years and better and never did I hear
A word from the lassie that I once loved so dear,
Till one bright summer morning down by a shady row,
It was there I by chance did meet young Sally Munroe.

I says, “My bonnie lassie, if you’ll gang along wi’ me,
In spite of our auld parents it’s married we will be.”
She says, “I have no objections along with you to go,
For I know you will prove loyal to your Sally Munroe.”
It was in a coach from Norwich to Belfast we did go,
And there I was married to young Sally Munroe;

There was a ship at Williams’ Point all ready to set sail,
With five hundred passengers, their passage all were paid,
I paid down our passage for Quebec also,
And there I did embark with Sally Munroe.

We sailed down the river with a sweet and pleasant gale,
And left our old parents behind to weep and wail,
While many were the salt tears that down their cheeks did flow,
Oh, I was quite happy with young Sally Munroe.

About four in the morning came on a dreadful blow,
Our ship she struck a rock and to the bottom she did go,
With five hundred passengers that were all down below,
And among that great number I lost Sally Munroe.

It was from her old parents that I stole her away,
And that will shock my conscience for many a long day;
It was not for to injure her that ever I did so,
And I’ll mourn all my days for young Sally Munroe.
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This month’s song is another for which I transcribed the melody from a 1924 wax cylinder recording of Minnesota singer Mike Dean. The text is, again, from Dean’s 1922 songster The Flying Cloud. The song is a rather rare one dating back to the 1830s when it was printed as a broadside (cheap song lyric sheets sold on the street by singers) in northern England and Scotland.* It was likely inspired by an actual event: the 1830 shipwreck of the ship “Newry” which sailed from Newry town with 400 Irish emigrants aboard bound for Quebec but wrecked off Bardsey Island near the Welsh coast where 100 perished. In some of those early broadside versions, Jim Dixon is born in Ayr, Scotland, goes to Belfast to work where he meets Sally and then sails from Newry but shipwrecks en route to Quebec.

The song crossed over to North America where it was collected mainly in Newfoundland and the Canadian Maritime Provinces. Place names vary between most versions. Dean’s version is special because it is the only one collected from a Great Lakes region singer. Also, the abundant place names in Dean’s might indicate it came from southeastern Ontario. Fort Erie, Belfast, Norwich and Williams’ Point are all places in that part of Canada.

This was an exciting one to hear on the recently rediscovered cylinder recordings! Dean has a very striking melody for the song which is different than any other I have found.

*For a detailed discussion of early printings of Sally Munro see Roly Brown’s article on Sally Munro
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More detailed information on this song from the Traditional Ballad Index