song - evergreentrad

02 Jun

New York Bay

I’m an Irishman from Monaghan,
In the North Country I was born,
It was manys the pleasant hour I spent,
On the banks of Sweet Lough Erin,
But to live poor I could not endure,
As others in my station,
With a heart full sore, I quit the shore,
Of the once loved Irish nation.

CHORUS:
Laddly-tar-i-are, laddly-tar-i-a
Laddly-tar-i-air-o-laddie

It was early on one Sunday morn,
As Phebus was arising,
We set sail away for New York Bay,
In the stout brig call Elizie,*
And four or five of our best men,
When hunger was confounded,
And seven more jumped overboard,
And willfully was drowned.

And when we landed in New York Bay,
To see how they were dancing,
There were lads and lassies dancing around
And ’round each other prancing,
And each lass to see how she was dressed
With white petticoats and long flounces,
And linked with each lass there was a lad,
With blue jackets and white trousers.

And when we landed in New York Bay,
We were both stout and hearty,
We were ready for any emergency,
That’s how the police force started,
Then we gave three cheers for Ireland,
Where friends lay broken hearted,
And like a flock of sheep, we strayed away,
And from each other parted.

Max Hunter collected this wonderfully unique variant of the well-known “Rambling Irishman” song in 1961 from Bertha Lauderdale of Fayetteville, Arkansas. I heard it first from singer Julie Henigan when she visited St. Paul to sing at the Traditional Singers Club 20 years ago. Julie spent time with the Max Hunter collection and she says Bertha Lauderdale, learned her songs from her grandfather Thomas Alexander Mulvagh who “emigrated from County Monaghan to Canada in 1836, bringing with him songs of broadside origin.”

The verse about “how the police force started” draws on the familiar trope of the Irish-American policeman.

You can hear Bertha’s unique, drawn out singing style on the Max Hunter page of the Missouri State University website. Julie Henigan’s singing of the song can be found on the Eoin McKiernan Library’s site in the Traditional Singers Club digital archive.

*Lauderdale inserts the chorus after every four lines starting here.

17 Feb

Albert Bulow

My name is Albert Bulow, that name I’ll never deny,
I leave my aged parents in sorrow for to die,
Little did I think, when in my youthful bloom,
I’d be taken to the scaffold, to meet my fatal doom.

Come, all you tender Christians, where ever you may be,
And likewise pay attention to these few lines you see,
For the murder of Franklin Eich, I am condemned to die,
On the nineteenth day of July, upon the scaffold high. Cho.

It was in the city of Verndale I tried to make escape,
But Providence being against me, it proved to be too late,
They took me to the prison, all in my youthful bloom.
And now to the scaffold I must go to meet my fatal doom. Cho.

A mob thought to lynch me but the sheriff was warned in time,
And with Randall and their victim to Brainerd he did flee,
We left the angry mob all in their wrought up glee,
To leave the court of mercy deal justice unto me. Cho.

My friends came to see me and bid their last adieu,
They spoke their words of kindness and wept most bitterly.
And said to me, dear Albert, to-day you’ve got to die,
For the murder of Franklin Eich, upon the scaffold high. Cho.

Come, all young men, a warning take from me,
And leave a wild and sporting life; it leads to misery,
Bad company first, then liquor came in time;
It brought me down to the lowest, and to this awful crime. Cho.

It is sad, my friend, to leave you and bid you all good-bye,
But Fate is all against me and I am doomed to die,
That justice has been dealt to me, I’m not prepared to tell,
But God will treat me justly, he doeth all things well.

We start this year with a rare ballad that was actually printed as a broadside here in Minnesota in 1889. If newspaper accounts are true, it is also an example of a “gallows ballad” actually composed by the condemned criminal himself. The Morrison County Historical Society has an original broadside the heading of which reads:

EXECUTION SONG.
LITTLE FALLS, MINN. JULY 15, 1889
[WORDS COMPOSED BY ALBERT BULOW]
FIRST LINES SUNG AS CHORUS

Bulow’s broadside from the Morrison Co. Historical Society

The murder of well-to-do farmer Franklin Eich outside of Royalton, Minnesota in October 1888 and the subsequent apprehension, trial and hanging of Albert Bulow was followed closely in the Little Falls newspapers as well as papers in the Twin Cities. Bulow was hanged for his crime in Little Falls at 1:52AM on July 19, 1889.

The Minneapolis Journal on July 18^th wrote:

Bulow, in order to beguile the tedious hours of waiting until death shall set him free, has composed a little song which he calls his death song. There is not much poetry in the piece and Bulow does not pretend that he has made much of a success of his poem but he has had it printed all the same and has been selling copies of it at 5 cents a copy. What Bulow proposes to do with the money he has raised in this peculiar way he does not say. It is all the money he has.

The St. Paul Daily Globe on July 19^th reported that Bulow possessed “the German love of music” and that the jailer’s wife organized a quartet for the prisoner in which “Bulow’s voice was never below the others.” The same article reports that:

A few days ago, with the assistance of his night watch, he ground out a poem on himself, which was printed and sold to curious visitors at 15 cents per copy.

Bulow’s song, in typical folk song fashion, was clearly modeled on the earlier American-made gallows ballad “James Rogers” (Rodgers was executed in 1858). I matched the Bulow text to the melody song for the James Rogers song by Minnesota singer Mike Dean (which I shared in the June 2023 Northwoods Songs).

Albert Bulow. Morrison Co. Historical Society

17 Feb

Once I Had a Girl

It’s once I had a girl, a bonny, bonny girl,
Her name I would scorn for to tell,
Although she’s got another all for to be her lover,
And she’s left me a-singing fare you well, fare you well,
And she’s left me a-singing fare you well.

As I walked out the Donnybrook side,
Near by the pine trees dwell,
It’s there I saw my girl, my bonny, bonny girl,
She was clasped in another man’s arms, arms, arms,
She was clasped in another man’s arms.

She reached out to me her lily white hand,
Just as if I was at her command,
Oh I soon passed her by, I ne’er cast an eye,
I was scorned to be slighted a girl, girl, girl,
I was scorned to be slighted by a girl.

Although my love is good, and just as good as she,
Although she has houses and land,
Of sweethearts I have plenty, I can count them out by twenty,
I can turn, I can change like the wind, wind, wind,
I can turn, I can change like the wind.

The above was sung by Mr. Sydney Boutilier of French Village, Nova Scotia for Helen Creighton’s recording machine in 1950. Creighton called it a “very pretty little love song” but, as far as I can tell, did not publish it in any of her folk song collections. It seems to be a rare song in tradition but I agree with Creighton that the melody is nice! I found this one among the many gems now available online through the Nova Scotia Archives at archives.novascotia.ca.