Ireland - evergreentrad

09 Dec

Exile of Erin

“Oh, sad is my fate,” said the heart broken stranger,
             “The wild deer and roe to the mountains can flee,
But I have no refuge from famine or danger,
             A home and a country remains not for me;
Oh, never again in the green shady bower,
Where my forefathers lived shall I spend the sweet hours,
Or cover my harp with the wild woven flowers,
             And strike the sweet numbers of Erin Go Bragh.

Oh, Erin, my country, though sad and forsaken,
             In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore,
But alas! in a far foreign land I awaken,
             And sigh for the friends that can meet me no more;
And thou, cruel fate, will thou never replace me,
In a mansion of peace where no perils can chase me?
Oh, never again shall my brothers embrace me,
             They died to defend me or live to deplore.

Where is my cabin once fast by the wildwood,
             Sisters and sire did weep for its fall,
Where is the mother that looked over my childhood,
             And where is my bosom friend, dearer than all?
Ah, my sad soul, long abandoned by pleasure,
Why did it dote on a fast fading treasure?
Tears like the rain may fall without measure,
             But rapture and beauty they cannot recall.

But yet all its fond recollections suppressing,
             One dying wish my fond bosom shall draw,
Erin, an exile bequeaths thee his blessing,
             Land of my forefathers, Erin Go Bragh;
Buried and cold when my heart stills its motion,
Green be thy fields fairest Isle of the ocean,
And the harp striking bard sings aloud with devotion,
             “Erin Mavourneen, sweet Erin Go Bragh.”

We return this month to the repertoire of Minnesota singer Michael Cassius Dean who printed “Exile of Erin” in his songster The Flying Cloud. Dean’s book reaches its 100^th birthday next year having been printed in Virginia, Minnesota in 1922 while he was employed as night watchman for the Virginia-Rainy Lake Lumber Company mega-mill in that city. As I have written here before, Dean was visited by the wax cylinder recording machine of Robert Winslow Gordon in 1924 but his version of “Exile of Erin” does not appear to have been recorded at that time. We only have his text from the songster. The melody above is my own transcription of a version sung by Belle Luther Richards at Colebrook, New Hampshire for Helen Hartness Flanders in 1943. That recording is available on archive.org.

The Richards and Dean versions are the only versions collected from North American singers I have found. This is somewhat surprising given that the song was extremely popular in Ireland throughout the 1800s. It was popular enough to spark widely-publicized controversy over who wrote it! It seems fairly certain that the author was Scottish poet Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) who also authored “The Wounded Hussar.” Campbell reported that he wrote the song in 1800 in Hamburg after meeting a man named Anthony McCann who was exiled there for his role in the Rebellion of 1798.

It’s possible that Dean learned it from his Mayo-born parents. Mayo was a focus of action during the excitement of 1798 when French General Humbert landed with over 1000 troops at Cill Chuimín Strand, County Mayo in support of the revolutionaries in August of that year. It is also possible that Dean learned it from a source here in Minnesota. Minneapolis’ Irish Standard newspaper, to which Dean subscribed while living in Hinckley, printed the text of the song in 1886 and again in 1900.

20 Jun

Hiring Time

My chum and I we left Belfast for Dubilin town we took our way,
And all along the road was strewn with lads and lassies fair and gay,
‘Til drawing nigh one did I spy as she walked slowly by hersel,
And for fear the rain her clothes would stain I did display my umberel.

“Where are you going my pretty fair maid how far do you intend to stray?”
“To Antrim’s town sir I am bound for this they say is hiring day,
The clouds they do look something wet although the morning did look fine,
I fear my love” she then did say, “we won’t be in for hiring time.”

“O cheer your heart, my pretty maid for by and by the rain will pass,
And don’t be sad when with a lad, a roving baker from Belfast,
Then if you will accept a drink of whiskey, brandy, ale or wine,
We’ll have a drink and then be there to Antrim’s town by hiring time.”

She gave consent and in we went to an alehouse that stood by the way,
Glass after glass around did pass and we both forgot it was hiring day,
The clock struck three she smiled at me saying “Roving baker the fault is thine,
For the day’s far spent, night’s coming on besides I’m late for hiring time.”

We have another song this month from the wonderful repertoire of Charles Finnemore of Bridgewater, Maine as recorded by Helen Hartness Flanders in the 1940s. I have found versions of “The Hiring Time” (aka “The Hiring Day” or “The Strabane Hiring Fair”) sung by Eddie Butcher of Co. Derry, Michael Gallagher and John Maguire of Co. Fermanagh and Dick Flynn of Co. Wexford (also Jimmy Grant). It seems to have been a well-travelled song in Ireland. In Scotland, it was “The Feeing Time” and versions show up printed on broadsides there as early as the 1840s.

Finnemore’s version leaves off the ending typically sung in Ireland where the couple gets married in the morning and lives happily ever after. Finnemore also sang the song twice for the Flanders collection and did a different second verse each time. His drifting second verse split well into two verses with some help from one of the Scottish broadsides I found online through the National Library of Scotland so this is what I have printed above. To hear Finnemore’s varying versions, visit the Flanders Ballad Collection on archive.org.

The pattern of attending seasonal hiring fairs in Ireland and Scotland persisted in new forms in Maine and other north woods communities where lumber companies would send out agents, (“preachers of the gospel” one Michigan song calls them) each fall to hire enough men for their crew.

20 Jun

Jessie Monroe

As I went a-walking one fine summer’s morning,
Down by Leinster market I happened to go,
I spied a young female that pleas-ed my fancy,
I’ll tell you about her as far as I know.

Cho: Right fol duh die ay, right fol duh die addee
For she is my darling wherever I go.

I stepp-ed up to her saying “where are you going?
Who is your father I feign would know?”
“My father’s a blacksmith in the village of Leinster,
And I am his daughter young Jessie Monroe.”

I said now “miss Jessie it’s I have fine buildings,
They’ll all be on your side as well you know,
If you will consent for to lie in my arrums,
A lamb of my bosom young Jessie Monroe.”

Oh she said “Now young Johnny go away with your flattering,
For you have a sweetheart wherever you go,
Your buildings are haunted likewise they’re enchanted,
There’s a handsomer young man for Jessie Monroe.”

Oh I said “now miss Jessie since you’ve been so saucy,
Once more to my lovely Maggie I’ll go,
She’s ne’er quite so bonnie, she’s better for Johnny,
So go your way wandering young Jessie Monroe.”

We have a nice lilty story song of unrequited love this month that, again, comes from the wonderful repertoire of Charles Finnemore of Bridgewater, Maine who was recorded by Helen Flanders. The 1941 recording of Finnemore singing “Jessie Monroe” is freely available to listen to online as part of the Helen Hartness Flanders Ballad Collection on archive.org.

Finnemore’s melody here resembles the air sung in Ireland for the song “Bold Doherty.” Jessie Monroe (Munroe or Munro in other transcriptions) was collected from a handful of other singers around the Canadian Maritimes. Other versions have the place name Leicester instead of Leinster.