"Port o' Dreams" is another haunting masterpiece by C. Fox Smith and William Pint and Felicia Dale used the title for one of their recordings, quoted from the poem, but did not arrange it for singing. Joyce McCleod, however, was reading the poem one day and found it worked very nicely to the tune of Carol King's "Tapestry" and she and her husband Danny recorded it on their CD NEVER A CROSS WORD, © 2002 Old and New Tradition. You may contact them for copies and further information about C. Fox Smith at:info@oldandnewtradition.com

I like what Joyce does with this poem but I heard a different tune, one that Jon Campbell uses for his song "The Mary." I also do more changes to the wording of the poem and add an extra line to make a reprise at the end. Here's the original poem:


Port o' Dreams

(Poem by C. Fox Smith, SEA SONGS & BALLADS 1917-22, p.p. 32-33, © 1924)

"There's a deal o' ports," said Murphy, "an' I guess I've sampled most,
Round about the Gulf o' Guinea, and up an' down the Chili coast,
In the Black Sea an' the Baltic an' the China seas I've been,
An' the North Sea an' the South Sea an' the places in between.

An' the ports as look the finest turns out some'ow worst of all,
For I lost my chum in Rio in a Dago dancin' 'all,
An' I lost my bloomin' 'eart once to a wench in Callao,
An' I lost my youth in Frisco, but that's years an' years ago.

But there's one I've never sighted out of all the ports there be;
It's a place a feller talked of as was shipmates once with me,
In the hooker Maid of Athens, she was one of Dunc Macneill's,
She went missin' many a year since bound from Steveston home with deals.

An' this feller said the drinks there are the best a man could find,
An' a sailor's always welcome, an' the girls are always kind,
An' there's dancin' an' there's singin' an' there's every sort o' fun,
In the plaza of an evenin' when the lazy sun is done.

An' the blessed old Pacific he keeps singin' like a psalm,
To the shippin' in the roadstead an' the firefly in the palm,
An' the days are never scorchin' an' the nights are never 'ot,
In that port 'e used to yarn of with the name I've clean forgot.

An' I'll never fetch that harbour, but it's maybe for the best,
For I daresay if I found it, it'd be like all the rest,
An' I like to think it's waitin', waitin' all the while for me,
With the red wine an' the white wine an' the dancin' an' the spree,
An' the firefly gleamin' golden in the palms I'll never see!"

Here's what I've done with it (copy and paste into WORD/TIMES/12 to line up chords):


PORT O' DREAMS

(Poem by C. Fox Smith, SEA SONGS & BALLADS 1917-22, p.p. 32-33, © 1924
Adapted for music by Charles Ipcar, 8/25/04
Tune: by Jon Campbell "The Mary" ©)


D-------------G--------------C---G-------------------------------------D--G
"Now there's many ports," said Murphy, "and I guess I've sam-pled most,
D-----G-C------------------------------------D------------------D7
Round a-bout the Gulf of Guinea, up and down the Chili coast,
---G-----------------C--G------------------------------D---G
The Black Sea and the Baltic, and the China seas I've seen,
----C-------------------------------------------D----------D7
The North Sea and the South Sea, and the places in between.
------D----------------------D7----C---------------------G
And the ports as look the finest turn out worst of all,
------D-----------------D7-------C---------------D
For I lost my chum in Rio, in a Dago dancin' hall,
------G----------------C--G---------------------------------D-G
And I lost my bloom-in' heart once, to a wench in Cal-la-o,
-------C------------------------------------D------------D7
And I lost my youth in Frisco, now so many years ago.

But there's one I've never sighted, of all the ports there be;
It's a place a feller talked of as was shipmates once with me,
In the hooker Maid of Athens, she was one of Dunc Macneill's,
She's gone missin' many a year now, bound from Steveston home with deals;
And this feller said the drinks there are the best a man could find,
And a sailor's always welcome, and the girls are always kind;
There's dancin' and there's singin' and there's every sort of fun,
On the plaza in the evening when the lazy sun is done.

And the blessed old Pacific, keeps singin' like a psalm,
To the ships out in the roadstead, and the firefly in the palm,
And the days are never scorchin', and the nights are never hot,
In that port he used to yarn of, with the name I've clean forgot!
So I'll never fetch that harbour, but it's maybe for the best,
For I daresay if I found it, it'd be like all the rest;
Still I'd like to think it's waitin', waitin' just for me,
With the red wine and the white wine, the dancin' and the spree.

D---------------------------D7------C----------------G
Still I'd like to think it's waitin', waitin' just for me,
----------D-------------------D7---------------C----------------D
With the red wine and the white wine, the dancin' and the spree;
------G---------C--G----------------------------D--G
And a table by the quayside, a good gal for my knee,
----------C----------------------------------D------------------D7
With the firefly gleamin' golden, in the palms I'll never see!"

I'm intrigued that Murphy knows better, but still loves the dream. It's the kind of thought that separates C. Fox Smith's poems from ones that are more blatently romantic or nostalgic.

Cheerily,
Charley Noble