THE BACKWOODSMAN

Oh, well do I remember the year of forty-five.
I thought myself quite lucky to find myself alive.
I harnessed up my horses, my business to pursue,
And went hauling cordwood as I often used to do.

I only hauled out one load. I should have hauled out more.
I went down to O'Reeny's. I would not haul no more.
The tavern there was open, the liquor running free.
I hadn't emptied one glass when another was filled for me.

(Chorus) And my father followed after me. I heard the people say,
“He must have had a pilot, or he'd never have found the way.”
He looked in every howling corner he could see the light.
His grey locks were wet with the dew of the night.

I met an old acquaintance. I dare not say his name.
He was going to a dance. Well, I thought I'd do the same.
I harnessed up my horses and rode off with a will,
And I didn't draw a long breath 'til I got to Downyville (sic?).

By the time I got to Downyville, the night was far advanced.
I got up on the floor, boys, and had a little dance.
The fiddler there was rested. His arms were big and strong.
He played the reels of old Ireland before the night was gone.

(Chorus again, repeat first verse)

Another song I learned by ear, apparently Canadian from Ontario. The place names are phonetic.

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 9-Mar-02.