02 Jun

The Banks of Brandywine

One morning very early in the merry month of May,
As I walked forth to take the air, all nature being gay,
The moon had not yet veiled her face but through the trees did shine,
As I wandered for amusement on the banks of Brandywine.

At such an early hour I was surprised to see,
A lovely maid with downcast eyes upon those banks so gay,
I modestly saluted her, she knew not my design,
And requested her sweet company, on the banks of Brandywine.

“O leave me sir do leave me my company forsake
For it is my real opinion you’re nothing but a rake,
My love’s a valiant sailor and he’s out on the brine,
While comfortless I wander on the banks of Brandywine.”

“My dear, why do you thus give up to melancholy cries?
I pray leave off your weeping, and dry those lovely eyes,
For sailors in each port, my dear, they do a mistress find,
He will leave you still to wander on the banks of Brandywine.”

“O leave me, sir, do leave me, why do you me torment?
My Henry won’t deceive me, therefore I am content,
Why do you thus torment me, and cruelly combine,
To fill my heart with horror on the banks of Brandywine?”

“I wish not to affect your mind but rather for to ease,
Such dreadful apprehensions that soon your mind will see,
Your love, my dear, in wedlock bands, another one has joined.”
She swooned into my arms on the banks of Brandywine.

O the lofty hills and craggy rocks re-echoed back her strain,
And the pleasant groves and rural shades gave witness to her pain,
“How often has he promised me in Hymen’s chains to join,
Now I’m a maid forsaken on the banks of Brandywine.”

“O no, my dear, that ne’er shall be, behold your Henry now,
I clasp you to my bosom, love, I have not forgot my vow,
It’s now I know you’re true, my dear, in Hymen’s chains we’ll join
And hail the happy morn we met on the banks of Brandywine.”

We return to the deep well of beautiful songs recorded by collector Helen Creighton in the Canadian Maritimes this month. While browsing around the recently accessible audio collection at the Nova Scotia Archives site I came across this one from singer Berton Young of West Petpeswick, Nova Scotia. Creighton recorded him in 1945.

This song appears in Creighton’s book Folk Songs of Nova Scotia in a slightly different form but I made my own transcription of Young’s singing here.  He has trouble remember the words so the recording jumps around a bit but he is another singer from that region who exhibits a fantastic light, ornamented style full of interesting twists and turns. The story is a classic example of a “Riley Ballad” where the returned lover disguises himself and tests the woman’s faithfulness before revealing his identity.

The Brandywine River (creek) referenced is most likely the one in Pennsylvania/Delaware that was the site of an important battle in the American Revolutionary War. That place name points to a North American origin for the song but it does turn up in Ireland as well. Irish song authority John Moulden guesses that it came back with someone who returned to Ireland after working over here.

01 Oct

Carnanbane

When I was young and foolish still, Amerikay ran in my head,
I from my native country strayed, which caused me many a tear to shed.
I left that place was nate, complete, where gently blossoms the hawthorne,
On the twenty-sixth of Ap-er-ile, it being on a Friday’s morn.

My friends and comrades convoyed me to near a place called Claudy town,
And when our parting did draw near, the tears from them came trinkling down.
With courage stout I stepped out and down the Faughn took my way,
And in the space of two short hours my course I stopped on Derry Quay.

It’s down the Foyle we then did steer and dropped our sails on Moville strand.
And as the sun was going down I lost the sight of Paddy’s land.
Our seamen stout they stepped out while the headwinds did softly blow,
Still hoping for a pleasanter gale; next morning we to sea would go.

But when I’m landed in St. John’s, I’ll fill my glass and grieve no more,
Still hoping for the pleasant hours when I’ll return to the Irish shore,
And when I’m in the fields alone or wandering o’er Columbia’s land,
I’ll often think of going home to the girl I left in Carnanbane.

We stray from the formula a bit this month for a song that has was not collected in North America at all but that does tell the type of Ireland to Canada immigration story that is at the root of how Irish songs came to be sung in the north woods. Carnanbane is a townland in County Derry and the above melody (with some adaptation by me) and text were collected by Sam Henry from William Laverty who got it from James Young of Dungiven.

The song’s protagonist leaves Derry quay and sails for “St. John’s.” St. John’s is the capital of Newfoundland and St. John is an important port city in New Brunswick. Folk song scholar John Moulden has argued convincingly that Irish songs of emigration frequently confuse St. John with St. John’s and that a story of emigration from Derry was almost certainly referencing St. John, New Brunswick. Moulden quotes Sholto Cooke’s book The Maiden City and the Wester Ocean saying St. John, New Brunswick was “…the cradle of Derry trade with North America and the destination of great numbers of emigrants for Canada or in transit to the United States.” Ships did not typically carry passengers from Derry to Newfoundland.

Emigration to Canada was especially common in the pre-Famine years with the two main destinations being St. John and Quebec City. Of the over 750,000 Irish that sailed for the New World between 1828 and 1844, Canadian ports welcomed about 55% of all arrivals (409,000 total over those 17 years). Many Irish immigrants continued on to urban centers in the United States. Those that stayed in Canada tended to fall into more rural patterns of life. Men took outdoor seasonal laboring jobs digging canals, building railroads or working in the lumber woods. Wherever they went, they carried songs.

05 Sep

The Lass Among the Heather

As I was coming home from the fair at Baltimor-e-o,
I met a pretty lass, she was fairer than Diana-o,
I asked her where she lived as we jogged along together-o,
“On bonnie mountain side,” she replied, “Among the heather-o.”

“Oh lassie I’m in love with you, you have so many charms-o,
Oh lassie I’m in love with you, to you my bosom yearns-o,
A blink of your blue eye, your person is so charming-o,
Right gladly would I wed with you, dear lass among the heather-o.”

“Oh young man do you think that I am so easy taken-o?
Oh young man do you think I believe what you are saying-o?
I’m happy and I’m well with my father and my mother-o,
‘Twould take a cunning lad for to coax me from the heather-o.”

“Oh lassie condescend and do not be so cruel-o,
Oh lassie condescend grant a kiss to your own jewel-o,”
“If I should grant you one, you would surely want another-o,
So take it as you will, I’m the lass among the heather-o.”

This month’s song has been traced by Irish song scholar John Moulden back to its original County Antrim composer Hugh McWilliams (born 1783). McWilliams was a schoolmaster and prolific writer of songs that had an unusual knack for entering tradition including the well-travelled “When a Man’s in Love He Feels no Cold.” That song and “The Lass Among the Heather” both appear in McWilliams’ Poems and Songs on Various Subjects Vol. II, published in 1831. “The Lass Among the Heather” crossed over into Scotland where it enjoyed some popularity. It was also sung in Cork by Elizabeth Cronin and in the north woods of the United States.

My principle source for the above transcription was a version that appears in the book A Heritage of Songs compiled by Maine singer Carrie Grover (1879-1959) from her own family repertoire. The melody is entirely Grover’s (though it is similar to that given by Moulden in his pamphlet “Songs of Hugh McWilliams, Schoolmaster, 1831”). The text is a mix of Grover’s and the original printed by McWilliams. Both McWilliams and Grover sprinkle in some Scots language (hame, frae, amang, etc.) but I have cheated my version away from the Scots for the most part. I omitted Grover’s last verse (which doesn’t appear in McWilliams’ original) about the couple living happily ever after in favor of the ambiguous open-ended nature of Grover’s fourth verse.