That is a fine book. I live on the Illinois-Michigan Canal in Illinois. It connects Lake Michigan with the Illinois River and runs 100 miles from LaSalle, IL to Chicago. One of my favorite canal songs is THE BULLHEAD BOAT which I learned from Lyman King of Fulton, New York. I recorded it on my album on Folk Legacy Records called ON THE WILDERNESS ROAD---now available from them on CD.

I was sleepin' in a line barn eating beans and hay,
The boss kicked my stern every night and every day,
I hired out canallin' as a horny hand of toil,
Driving mules that kept a-squallin' along the towpaths smelly soil.

Well, my feet raised corns and blisters and the mules they raised a stink,
They roped my feet and threw me, plunk, in the smelly drink,
I thought I'd quit canallin' and the boss he thought so too,
Said, "Try your hand at digging up ore---Go row your own canoe."

I was drying on the towpath watching boats go up and down,
Ahivering from the first good bath I'd had since I hit town,
A boat pulled into the basin, to the wood dock for the night,
And I lost no time to hasten 'round the bridge to bum a bite.

They filled me up with beans and shoat and lighted me up a cob,
Asked if I could steer a boat and they offered me a job,
Next morning I was hoisted up to the cabin's roof,
By the tiller there I roosted and I watched that driver hoof.

Now, the boat she was a bullhead boat--decked up to the cabin's top,
And many a canaller now are dead who had no time to drop,
When the captain he forgot to yell, "Low bridge---duck her down !"
The bullhead steersman went to hell with a bridge bash in his crown.

We were loaded up with Star Brand Salt and the Cap was loaded too,
Now, I cannot say that was his fault 'cause what's a man to do?
The bridge was only a heave away when I saw her 'round the bend,
To the Cap a word I couldn't say while tumblin' end o'er end.

So, canallers take my warning and never steer a bullhead boat,
They'll find you some sad morning in the old canal afloat,
Do all your navigating in a line barn filled with hay,
And the bridge you won't be hating, and you'll live ;til judgment day.

Art Thieme