JJ Somers - evergreentrad

23 Aug

Let No Man Steal Your Time

Come all young maids, so fair and gay,
That glory in your prime, [prime,]
Be wise, beware, keep your gardens clear,
Let no man steal your time, [let no man steal your time.]

For when your time it is all gone,
There’ll no man care for you,
And the very place where my time was,
Is spread all over with rue.

The gardener’s son was standing by,
Three flowers he plucked for me,
The pink, the blue, the violet, too,
And the red rosy three.

I’ll cut off the primrose top,
And plant a willow tree,
So that the whole world may plainly see,
How my love slighted me.

Slighted lovers they must live,
Although they live in pain,
For the grass that grows in yon green moor,
In time will rise again.

Roud No.: 3

We have another traditional song this month that appears in the book Jim’s Western Gems compiled by Irish-Minnesotan singer James J. Somers and published in Minneapolis in 1912. Versions of the “Sprig of Thyme” date at least as far back as the 1760s in England and the song came to be sung widely in the English-speaking world. Above, I have married Somers’ text to the melody sung by Dublin singer Patrick Green in 1951 available through the Lomax Digital Archive website.

Somers titles this song text “The Last Song My Father Sang” which is likely a reference to his Irish-born father Martin Somers.

(Most printed versions highlight the double meaning of thyme/time by spelling it “thyme” but Somers’ book spells the word “time.” Somers’ text doesn’t indicate repeated words at the end of the 2nd or 4th lines but I’ve suggested them here to work with Patrick Green’s melody.)

Martin Somers, father of James Somers, as pictured in *Jim’s Western Gems*. Martin was born in Ireland around 1831 and settled near Cardwell, Ontario, about 60km from the southern tip of Georgian Bay. Nearby placenames to Cardwell include many Irish references such as: Athlone, Achill, Ballycroy, Kilmanagh, Erin and Sligo.

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.

Roud no: 765

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.

02 Aug

When the Manistee Went Down

Farewell, old boat, and precious freight,
McKay and his staunch, strong crew,
No more at home shall the cargo wait,
For loved ones to come with you.
The work she did no other would do,
Success would the effort crown,
But oh! the anguish of waiting hearts,
When the Manistee went down.

CHORUS:
Oh! God, it must have been dreadful,
To freeze and then to drown,
In a storm on Lake Superior,
When the Manistee went down.

Fond memory oft will picture here still,
Her cabins and decks grow dear,
In a storm that made every fiber thrill,
McKay spoke words of cheer.
Farewell, old boat, and gallant crew,
Love will your memories crown,
Bot, oh! the darkness, pain and grief,
When the Manistee went down.

Another scene of horror,
Came when this deep, cold lake,
The schooner M. A. Hulbert, with,
Twenty brave, strong men, did take.
It was next they should lie beneath the wave,
When her ballast above were o’er,
But we long the helpless ones to save,
Whose voices we hear no more.

We have another song this month from the pen of James J. Somers who came to Duluth at age 17 from the Georgian Bay region of Ontario. He was in Duluth in November 1883 when the packet steamer Manistee left Duluth harbor for Ontonagon, Michigan never to return. Tragedy struck again that December when the schooner Mary Ann Hulbert, also out of Duluth, sank near St. Ignace Island at the northern end of Lake Superior.

As with most other songs in Somers’ book, he left us no melody for this one. Andy Irvine’s version of Pat Reilly came into my head when I was looking at Somers’ text so I have tried to adapt it to that melody here. I made a few edits to Somers’ words. The original, along with the rest of his book “Jim’s Western Gems” is available in digital form via archive.org.