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Subject: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: EBarnacle1 Date: 19 Dec 02 - 12:00 AM I was reading "Ten Shanties [sic] Sung of the Australian Run, 1879" collected and Sung by George H. Haswell, reissued 1992 by the Antipodes Press. These were collected on a run from London to Sydney. The cited version of The Dead Horse is the most complete description I have ever run across. It is included with its relevant comments. "On Thursday, October 2nd, lat, 7.32N., long. 25.20W., Mr. Richard Tangye, the well-known judge and buyer of blood stock attended the "Parramatta" sale, and purchased the animal which was too celebrated to need mention by name. At about 8 o'clock a vast multitude of those interested in the turf were assembled on the poop anxiously waiting to catch a glimpse of the noble animal as he emerged from his stable in the fore part of the ship. His jockey having mounted mi, proceeded to the main deck amidst a crowd of the ship's crew, singing as they did a song which would have deterred anybody with less spirit than Mr. Tangye from bidding. It appeared that the horse was a victim to fate, and that his dirge was being sung. The Dead Horse 1: Oh, now poor horse your time is come, And we say so. for we know so. Oh, many a race I know you've run. Poor Old Man. 2: I have come a long, long way. And... To be sold upon this day. Oh,... 3: I have made Fordham's heart to jump with joy. And... For many a long time he tried a Derby to win. Oh,... 4: But I was the moke to carry him in. And... So I hope I shall fetch plenty of tin. Oh,... 5: Oh, gentlemen, walk up and speculate. And... If I go cheap my heart will break. Oh,... 6: So now, Mr. Auctioneer, you can begin. And,... Put up therefore he was, before the poop the auctioneer introducing him to the public by narrating his past and properous career, and quickly inducing them to make spirited bids. the bidding commenced at 5s., and speedily ran up to L6-10s., each Person being answerable for the amount of his or her bid. The horse and jockey being knocked down, the crew sang the following requiem, the melody being the same as that given above, to the dirge: The Requiem 1: Now, old horse, your time is come. And... Altho' many a race you have won. Oh,... 2: You're going now to say good-by, And... Poor old horse you're going to die. Oh,... The procession moving forward, the horse and jockey were attached to a rope and hauled up to the main yardard, and were then, amid plenty of blue fire (stay, the jockey, who happened to be alive, was spared) committted to the deep. the crew then sang: Now he is dead and will die no more. And... I makes his ribs feel very sore. Oh,... He is gone and will go no more. And... So good-bye, Old Horse. We say good-bye! ...The horse's body is made out of a barrel, and his extremities of hay or straw, covered with canvas. The mand and tail of hemp, or still better of manilla. The eyes consist of two gingerbeer bottles, which are sometimes filled with phosphorus. when the horse is completed he is lashed to a box, which is ccovered by a rug and then drawn along, in Egyptan fashion, on a grating." This is the most complete example I have found of the entire process, as well as the earliest I have seen. One comment I have is the use of the word "moke" above, simply meaning person. In his comments about Reuben Ranzo, the author states ""Ranzo" is suspiciously like a "crib" from a well-known old sea song concerning a certain "Lorenzo," who also "was no sailor."" Has there been any discussion about the origins of Reuben Ranzo? |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Dave Bryant Date: 19 Dec 02 - 06:45 AM "Moke" usually mean donkey. The Cockney Rhyming Slang is "Jerusalem" (see Albert Chevalier's song "Jerusalem's Dead") from Jerusalem Artichoke - Moke. I never heard of an auction at a "Dead Horse" celebration - after all the reason for it was to celebrate the fact that members of the crew had finished working off their advances and were now being paid for real. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: MMario Date: 19 Dec 02 - 08:29 AM Ebarnacle - I don't recall ever seeing a discussion of Reuben Ranzo here at the forum - but in his notes on the song Doerflinger says it is pretty evident that "Ranzo" is derived from "Lorenzo" - but doesn't discuss the previous song. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Dead Horse Date: 19 Dec 02 - 09:34 AM I have never heard any of those verses, or an auctioneering theme. Very interesting. Hugill gives the title & date of the best description of *Paying off the dead horse* as "Reminiscenses Of Travel In Australia, America and Egypt, by R Tangye" (London 1884) He also says this shanty was very popular on immigrant ships, where the crew would put on quite a show for the passengers. As far as I know, Rueben Ranzo (as opposed to half a dozen others of the Ranzo group) was normally sung on whaling vessels, and not those on the Australian run. |
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Subject: Origins: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Gibb Sahib Date: 06 Sep 09 - 02:37 PM Hi, Adding some more notes here about this well-known chantey. I was recently looking into some references about its origins, and here's some stuff I came up with. No doubt some redundancies with info in other, ~scattered~ Mudcat threads, but the effort is to bring the historical references together a bit. I don't give the full info on all references (which I'd have to dig up), but that's usually since they aren't all that significant. So... AKA, "Poor Old Man," this chantey is well represented in early literature, no doubt because of the colorful "ceremony" that it was used to accompany. Indeed, some interpreters nowadays (e.g. Mystic Seaport Chanteymen) class this song as a "ceremonial chantey." And Hugill supposed it became used as a regular halyard chantey only after the "dead horse ceremony" had died out. However, after reviewing the literature, I am not convinced of this categorization/interpretation. As "Poor Old Man"—the chorus found in nearly all documented versions—it was often a halyard chantey for actual use, in which case the verses would most likely not include the special emphases on the "dead horse." Notably, Hugill's version is one of few that gives as a possible chorus, "Poor Old HORSE." Naturally, that would wrap up the desired picture of the "ceremonial chantey" in a tidy fashion. The original (pre-chantey) emphasis of the verses were concerned with the poor old ~man~. In fact, the core few verses first turn up in minstrel song compositions. A version of the famous song "Clare de Kitchen," 1832 contains the following lines: I went to de creek, I cou'dn't get a cross, I'd nobody wid me but an old blind horse; But old Jim Crow came riding by, Says he, old fellow your horse will die. Its Clare de kitchen old folks, young folks,… (appears in Lhamon 2003) Incidentally, while Colcord and Doerflinger made this connection, Hugill wrote "I fail to see any connection"; he must have been looking the "wrong" versions of the song, since the connection is plain. These lines float into other songs associated with African-American traditions. "Charleston Gals," as it appears in Allen et.al.'s milestone SLAVE SONGS OF THE UNITED STATES (1867), contains these lines: As I walked down the new-cut road, I met the tap and then the toad; The toad commenced to whistle and sing, And the possum cut the pigeon wing. Along come an old man riding by: Old man, if you don't mind, your horse will die; If he dies I'll tan his skin, And if he lives I'll ride him agin. Hi ho, for Charleston gals!... In Talley's NEGRO FOLK RHYMES (1922), these verses turn up in the song labeled "He is My Horse": One day as I wus a-ridin' by, Said dey: "Ole man, yo' hoss will die"— "If he dies, he is my loss; An' if he lives he is my hoss." Nex' day w'en I come a-ridin' by, Dey said: "Ole man, yo' hoss may die."— "If he dies, I'll tan 'is skin; An' if he lives. I'll ride 'im ag'in." I even find a reference (Wells 1920) that quotes these lines as a "lullaby." They turn up in many casual literary references, where the common emphasis is the happy-go-lucky or indifferent sentiment of the "old man"—of course, this happy-go-lucky character (who couldn't care less if his horse died or not) is one of the comedic "Negro character types" of minstrelsy—though it also turns out to be a kind of sentiment found in songs sung by sailors. Having adopted these floating lines, the chantey builds along the theme of a very different type of "dead horse." (cf. the chantey "Fire Down Below," which uses the idea of "fire" in many different literal and metaphorical ways in the same piece.) This was in reference to the phrase, "working off a dead horse," which described the fact that for the first month of a voyage, sailors were essentially working off money they had already spent – the advance pay they had spent on gear before the voyage, more than likely boozed away. The ceremony marked the end of that month, to celebrate the fact that from then on the sailors would actually be earning something. It involved constructing an effigy of a horse. Bullen (1914) said it was just a bundle of combustibles, while some others describe it as a more accurate likeness to a horse, made perhaps of a barrel, bits of old rope, and straw. It was paraded up and down the deck, before being hoisted up to the main or fore yardarm, to the rhythm of this chantey. (Harlow said it might also be dropped in the sea from the cathead.) At the conclusion of the song, a sailor up on the yard would cut the rope and let the horse drop into the sea. Ex-sailor Bullen said that it was set afire, and that its fall was done to the "deafening accompaniment of piercing yells and shouts," while Cecil Sharp (1914) claimed the horse was dropped in silence. Doerflinger (1951) claimed that the ceremony was done with more formality aboard British ships, and that by 1890 it had died out. Colcord (1924) said she never heard of it aboard American ships, but Harlow's description and other references contradict that. I find the first reference to this chantey in Camden's 1869 THE BOYS OF AXLEFORD as a pumping chantey, followed by a description in CHAMBERS'S JOURNAL, 1879. Tangye's 1883 account of a voyage from Australia gives a detailed description of the ceremony. The first big chantey collection, Davis & Tozer (1886) has it. Then: Jeynkins (1892), Richards (1897), and Boston Seaman's Friend Society (1900). In 1906 it is given as a halyard chantey in both the Journal of the American Folk Lore Society (Hutchinson) and in Masefield's SEA SONGS—as "Poor Old Joe." The ex-seamen Whall (1910), Lubbock (1915), and Robinson (1917) mention it next, besides Bullen and Sharp (1914). RR Terry (1921) said it was for hauling and pumping. Frothingham (1924), Shay (1927), Bone (1931), and even Sandburg, in THE AMERICAN SONG-BAG (1927) have it. Colcord (1924) had it for halyards and sometimes capstan even! Most instructive are Harlow's observations, from sailing in the 1870s. He actually gave "Poor Old Joe" (halyards or hand over hand), along with "Poor Old Man" with a slightly different melody…AND "The Dead Horse," i.e. 3 diff. chanteys! We are lucky to have the clear recording of Capt. Leighton Robinson, an old shellback who gives a stately version of "The Dead Horse." Some more recent versions tend to be more up-tempo and rhythmic, as the Mystic Seaport Chanteymen's version. Note that a facsimile of the hoisting of the dead horse has long been a part of Mystic Seaport's program. As interpreted by staff member Don Sineti, it is a favorite with (and geared towards) children visitors. A video of that can be seen at this link: link |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Charley Noble Date: 06 Sep 09 - 04:25 PM Gibb- Nicely summarized. Cheerily, Charley Noble |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: EBarnacle Date: 07 Sep 09 - 11:57 AM Good summary. Although you do not say it explicitly, it is well known that there was a common migration between field songs, vaudeville/music hall and chanteys. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Gibb Sahib Date: 07 Sep 09 - 12:29 PM Thanks for reading, guys. As EBarnacle points out, that flow between genres is well known -- I've almost come to expect to find a line from a chantey, more often than not, in one of the other genres. What I think is interesting (though still maybe not surprising) in this case is how the line about the "dead horse" is brought into an entirely different context with a different meaning. Also I think it's interesting (though I've not proved it by any means) to consider that this chantey was just as much a regular working chantey as it was something for the ceremony. Also that the "first" reference has it as a pumping chantey was surprising to me. Gibb |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Dead Horse Date: 07 Sep 09 - 03:26 PM There is an assortment of folk plays with the theme of "The old horse" or "hoss" and some of the verses of song & spoken dialogue are very similar to the oft heard words to this shanty. See here and here Although these particular sites make no claim to ancient authenticity, they do use words & phrases handed down through generations. There is also, of course, the ceremony of broaching the first cask of "salt beef" which uses the same theme, the crew being suspicious as to the origin of said "beef", liking it to horse meat. By the stars, I'd give me eye teeth to 'ave bin an ancient mariner (not)! |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: ClaireBear Date: 07 Sep 09 - 04:11 PM That reminds me: Charley, are you ever going to update the C. Fox Smith "Poor Old Ship/Regent's Canal Dock" page with that information I gave you on the Derbyshire "Poor Old Horse" song to whose tune her poem can be sung (not the forebitter, as the page now says)? |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: ThreeSheds Date: 07 Sep 09 - 04:14 PM I misread the title as Dead Horse Chutney |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: EBarnacle Date: 07 Sep 09 - 08:05 PM I misbedoubt that that would taste very good, especially in areas with no means of preservation. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Barry Finn Date: 07 Sep 09 - 09:01 PM Poor Old Man theme is also found in the BWI's. It's used as a rowing song, ring games & elsewhere. Abrahams collected (see "Deep the Water, Shallow The Shore") it as "Johhny Come Down With A Hilo" (first shanty in the book) but the 4 lines ends off with the fourth line always with the same melody as heard in the Dead Horse verisons, "poor old man" (as well as the 3rd line always being very close to "Johnny Come Down To Hilo"), so one migth even say it's 2 line verse with a 2 line chorus. Abrahams only has one 4 line, I'm no longer sure if he has more verses on the field tapes (I'll have to one day pull them out from where ever they're hiding) or not but I do know that I've added a good few. I do remember that what Abrahams has was at least repeated a good few times. The poor old man he sick in bed, He want somebody to 'noint his head Oh, Johny come down with a hilo, Poor old man Barry |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Gibb Sahib Date: 07 Sep 09 - 10:53 PM Good one, Barry! I'd forgot about that similar musical phrase. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: mikesamwild Date: 15 Aug 10 - 02:57 PM Am I flogging a dead horse or can anyone let us know about horse killing ceremonies in other cultures. I know our local Owd Oss and Owd Tup traditions . And have heard of a the Grey Mare in Wales. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: MGM·Lion Date: 16 Aug 10 - 07:15 AM A somewhat drifty sidenote, to show the phrase not entirely dead: when my late wife & I moved to this village 33 years ago, our originally cockney next-door neighbour {whom I saw recently and who is still alive in her 70s} mentioned in conversation with my wife that someone she knew had recently started a new job, for which she had received some advance payment; so that, she said "she is just working dead-horse at the moment". Drifting even further, re another song: the same neighbour would always refer to buying second-hand clothes at a charity shop as "going to rag-fair". ~Michael~ |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: mikesamwild Date: 16 Aug 10 - 11:26 AM My dad in Manchester used to work as a steel erector and paying off the 'sub' or advance, which was common in the building trade, was also called that. He had been in the Royal Navy from being a lad. He also said shanties were not sung in his experience in the RN. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: MGM·Lion Date: 16 Aug 10 - 11:49 AM No, indeed; from C19, when it caught on in the merchant service, whaling fleets, &c, shanty singing, according to all authorities I have read, was forbidden in the Royal Navy, the necessary work rhythms being provided by drum and fife, or perhaps fiddle, rather than by a solo singer; and the hauling crew were encouraged to use their breath for the task rather than for singing. Probably poor psychology, as the act of singing as one works is generally regarded as an encouragement to effort; but it was probably felt by Their Lordships Of The Admiralty that a singing crew would not redound to the credit of Naval smartness. ~Michael~ |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Gibb Sahib Date: 14 Oct 23 - 09:33 PM Here's Frederic Maccabe's 1867 (I think) composition, giving the refrains and structure/tune of "Poor Old Man" https://tile.loc.gov/storage-services/service/music/mussm/mu/ss/m-/sm/18/75/-0/4 |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: GUEST,Phil d'Conch Date: 15 Oct 23 - 06:52 AM Pedantic point of maritime work song order: It would serve as both ceremonial forebitter and halyard chantey when used to hoist the horse. Believe it or don't…Am I flogging a dead horse...? The effigy was often illuminated with a signal flare (blue light) and dropped after sunset. The 'auction' bits were an old time side “benefit” (ie: modern day tip or gratuity.) Long post: “Monday, March 3.— We had this evening what to the sailors was evidently splendid fun, and what to the emigrants was at least a novelty. An auspicious ceremony, known to seamen as “Flogging the Dead Horse,'” has been performed. For the benefit of the uninitiated I explain. When the crew for a vessel are engaged, the owners allow them to draw the first month's wages in advance ; and those who know our sailors best will be disposed to believe that not a great amount of the “advance” remains in hand when eventually the crew ship them- selves for the voyage. The sailors regard this first month's work as a sort of nightmare—the sooner it is over the better they like it. And when the month is up, and their wages commence to accumulate, they celebrate the occasion in the manner I am about to describe. Well, this day completed the first month of the sailors' service ; and they manufactured what they called, and what for courtesy's sake I will also call, “a horse.” There was no nonsence about this said gallant steed. I cannot exactly allude to its fiery eyes, or to its dilating nostrils—for the simple reason that it had neither. I may safely speak as to its mouth and jaws, and will be well within the mark if I assert that never before in my life did I witness a horse with such a magnificently concocted pecking machine. The carcase was fearfully and wonderfully made. Some canvas which had done service for our good ship for the past three years, was first sewn into shape, and by dint of much intricate work and delicate persuasion, the internal organs, in the shape of shavings and hay, were artistically inserted. The assistance of a pseudo veterinary surgeon was then called into requisition, the needle and thread were applied, and the carcase stood forth a completed thing. And it was a sight to behold. Its arched neck, the gracefully-curved back, the handsome rise of the haunches, and the prettily-rounded turn given to the posteriors— these, brought to a climax by a tail of flax of magnificent proportions, were, as I have intimated, a sight to behold. But the sight of all was the gallant charger's legs. They were none of your thin-ankled, slimly-built, tapering legs. They were good, genuine, stout, all-straight-down-alike, such as would have graced the most elephantine of elephants, or even that much maligned gentleman (late of Dartmoor) the Claimant himself. Legs, the joints of which were never likely to get out of joint, with hoofs such as horse or effigy never possessed before, and, I am inclined to think, may never possess again. And now you have the horse before you — 'Twas not a form that the artist calls fine; 'Twas not a form in the classical line; But it was a decently-rounded conglomeration of hay and straw, canvas and sailors' breeches, honestly manufactured, and a legitimate outcome of the united intelligence of half a hundred Dutchmen and Englishmen. My sense of admiration was so overpowering that serious thoughts possessed me of driving a bargain for a purchase of this exquisite work of art, with a view of presenting it as a souvenir to one of our museums; but the idea was evanescent. A programme of other and more serious work was chalked out for the interesting creature. The shades of evening were approaching, and with them there came the sounds of laughter and revelry. From the forecastle there emerged a roaring procession of Englishmen, Irishmen, Scotchmen, and Dutchmen—sailors, cooks, stokers, engineers, and emigrants. In their midst, bound around its neck with a stout rope, they dragged the unhappy effigy of their own creation, and even as Macbeth's witches marched around the seething cauldron, so even marched my heterogeneous procession round and round the ship, chanting to a horribly flat minor key— Poor old man, thy horse will die — Poor old horse. And when he dies we'll tan his hide — Poor old horse. Poor old horse, thy days are ended — Poor old horse. Having repeated the chanting of this elegant piece of poesy for half an hour or more, the procession wended its way to the foremast, which one of the sailors mounted, carrying with him a line attached to the “poor old horse.” Amid the united “hurrahs!” of the English, Irish, and Scotchmen, and the deep-toned “Hoerá's!” of the Dutchmen, the effigy was then hauled up to the yardarm. Sundry invocations to the publican's 'spirits" were offered up at this solemn juncture; and presently, accompanied by a final roar of merriment, the line attached to the executed "old horse" was cut, the effigy fell with a loud plunge into the sea, and in a few moments the 'horse" was lost to the sight of mortal man for ever. It was a scene calculated to arouse a man's moral faculties, and I fell to sentimentalising. The conclusion arrived at was, that as the “horse” had become food for fishes, I could do little else than pity the whale or any such other monstrosity who, mistaking the Dutchman's Stad Haarlem* “horse” for a real dead one, swallowed it under the delusion that it would afford a wholesome meal. I will venture to predict that that veritable whale will suffer from periodical attacks of indigestion during the next half century. The upshot of all this mummery was that we—the saloon passengers—were " respectfully invited" to stand glasses of grog all round to the crew. It was not within the power of human nature to withstand such an appeal, so sundry bottles of whisky were subscribed for, and glasses were ordered. It is due to the Dutchmen to add that they swallowed the “real Dublin” with as much gusto as if it were goodly Scheidam, while the English fraction of the crew did splendid justice to the reputation they bear of knowing how to get outside of a capital “dhrop o' the cratur.” [Old England and New Zealand, Simmons, 1879] *Barque rigged auxilliary steamer S.S. Stad Haarlem (1875) at Rootsweb. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: GUEST,Phil d'Conch Date: 15 Oct 23 - 06:56 AM New this year: Reuben Ranzo! Chanteys in Royal Navy? Standard “RN chanty” disclaimer: No, indeed; from C19, when it caught on in the merchant service, whaling fleets, &c, shanty singing, according to all authorities I have read, was forbidden in the Royal Navy, the necessary work rhythms being provided by drum and fife, or perhaps fiddle, rather than by a solo singer; and the hauling crew were encouraged to use their breath for the task rather than for singing. The so-called Indianmen worked both sides of the aisle, peacetime or wartime. The cost/benefit of keeping a musician on the payroll always figured in. No shortage of fiddle and fife music in the merchant marine or singing in the RN. On both topics, c.1879 Australian (merchant?) passage: “Burying of the Dead Horse” (Havergal, Music in the Royal Navy, Proceedings of the Musical Association, 1891.) Fwiw: The author entered the service as a cadet in 1864; promoted to full LT in '76 for service on the Challenger expedition. Also surveyed the Bahamas, Jamaica & St. Vincent on the H.M.S. Sparrowhawk. Seems more than a bit confused betwixt “fore-bitter” & “shanties” though. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: GUEST,Julia L Date: 20 Oct 23 - 09:16 PM Just to muddy the waters, I submit this from Maine collections OLD HORSE p222 Minstrelsy of Maine by Fanny Hardy Eckstorm 1925 Fifty years ago every Maine child knew the sailor lines on ‘The Old Horse’: ‘Old horse, old horse, what brought you here?’ ‘From Saccarap’ to Portland Pier I carted stone this many a year; Till now, worn down by sore abuse, I’m salted down for sailors’ use. The sailors they do me despise, They turn me o’er and damn my eyes, Cut off my meat and pick my bones And throw the rest to Davy Jones.’ 1 After this was in type, we obtained a fragment of this song from Mrs. Joan B. Moore, of Seawall, Southwest Harbor, who said that the song used to be much sung along the coast in her childhood. Mrs. Lewis F. Gott, of Bernard, adds two lines not found elsewhere: Between the mainmast and the pump I’m salted down in great big junks. ‘My father, Captain J. W. Carroll,’ writes Mrs. Seth S. Thornton, ‘ told us that sailors used to take the tough salt meat that was furnished for their rations up on a fork and repeat this verse: ‘Old hoss, old hoss, what brought you here? You carted dirt for many a year From Saccarap’ to Portland Pier; But now worn out by sore abuse, You’re salted down for sailors’ use. We’ll turn you over and pick your bones And cast the rest to Davy Jones.’ The rhymes were known by the name of ‘ The Sailor’s Grace.’ ‘There was his grace before meat,’ writes Miss Colcord (p. 114), ‘when the beef kids came in from the galley,’ and she quotes a form like the first given. ‘There was a good deal said about horse beef in those days, and you could hear that song almost anywhere among sailors,’ said an old sailor to Mr. Windsor P. Daggett, remarking upon its being sung in Vermont upwards of a century ago. The earliest printed form of this disparaging ditty is in a footnote in Richard Henry Dana’s ‘Two Years before the Mast,’ where he gives substantially our first version, with comments as interesting as they are authentic. The best pieces of beef in a barrel were reserved for the cabin, he said; the poorer, for the crew. ‘There is a singular piece of rhyme, traditional among sailors, which they say over such pieces of beef. I do not know that it ever appeared in print before. When seated round the kid, if a particularly bad piece of beef is found, one of them takes it up and addresses it thus’—and he quotes the lines, including Saccarappa and Portland Pier. Saccarappa is now Westbrook, near Portland; paving-blocks cut there, at one time a considerable industry, were hauled by horses to Portland for vessel shipment. The song was carried all over the seas by Maine sailors and even worked its way into foreign vessels. The writer still vividly recalls the old British man-of-warsman, on the Pacific coast, who sometimes came in for a roast-beef dinner, who, after the meal was over, would remark, ‘Now I’ll sing you the sailors’ grace.’ Then he would shut his eyes, throw back his head and straightway begin ‘The Old Horse,’ ending it with a 4 Poo-or old horse, let him die-e-e' which seemed to be drawn from his boots it was so deep and long intoned. And to the Maine girl there was always a strangeness in hearing this old British sea-dog singing of Saccarap’ and Portland Pier. Of late years this ‘Sailors’ Grace’ has become very much mixed up with two songs. One is the halliards chantey of ‘Poor Old Horse,’ or ‘Poor Old Man,’ which is only the ‘Grace’ adapted as a work song by inserting chorus parts and a story element. The difference in use chiefly distinguishes the two. A form given by W. B. Whall in ‘Ships, Sea-Songs and Shanties’ (first ed. pub. 1910) has a part resembling the Maine song: Old horse, old horse, what brought you here After carrying sand for many a year From Bantry Bay to Ballywhack, Where you fell down and broke your back? Now after years of such abuse, They salt you down for sailors’ use, They tan your hide and burn your bones And send you off to Davy Jones. (From 4th ed., p. 118.) This is no improvement on ‘Saccarap’ and Portland Pier,’ and as it was not printed until more than seventy years after Dana heard the song sung — which he says was even then ‘traditional’ - a heavy burden of proof is placed upon the shoulders of any who claim that the Maine song is the adaptation. The ceremonial of ‘burying the dead horse’ was, as Miss Colcord says, a purely English custom, and connecting it with the Maine form of the ‘Grace’ is misleading and shows the writer to be only a ‘paper sailor.’ The other poem often confused with this is the English song called ‘My Old Horse,’ where the worn-out creature disposes of his bones and hide by making his will. This should not be confounded with the sailor songs mentioned, as all they have in common is a similarity of title. —————— from Songs of the Maine Lumberjacks by Roland Palmer Gray 1924 p 104 Poor Old Horse THIS song, of English origin but adapted by tradition to localities in Maine, was originally sung as part of a sailors' ceremony known as "the burial of the dead horse," a full account of which (with a text of the song) is given by Evelyn A. Melvill Richards in Folk-Lore > 1897, VIII, 281-283. For English texts (with tune) see also Bullen and Arnold, Songs of Sea Labour i , No. 29, p. 25; Tozer, Sailors' Songs, jd ed., No. 47, pp. 88-89; Whall, Sea Songs and Shanties, 4th ed., p. 119; Sharp, English Folk-Chanteys, No. 47, p. 52. It has often been used as a chantey. A fragmentary American text (with tune) may be found in Admiral Luce's Naval Songs, 2d ed., 1902, p. 224. A somewhat similar song ("Poor Old Horse"), though quite distinct from this, is current in England. See Sharp, One Hun- dred English Folksongs, pp. xxxix, 196-197; Sharp, English Folk Songs, Selected Edition, II, xviii, 88-89; Sharp, Folk-Songs of England, IV, 16-17; Sharp and Marson, Folk Songs from Somerset, I, 54; Baring-Gould and Sharp, English Folk-Songs for Schools, No. 20, pp. 42-43. This is common in recent English broadsides (Forth, Pocklington; J. Livsey, Manchester, No. 240; Bebbington, Manchester, No. 140; Cadman, Manchester, No. 33), but the oldest printed text recorded is in a Boston, Massachusetts, broadside in the Isaiah Thomas collection (formed in 1813) in the library of the American Antiquarian Society (II, 120), "My Old Horse." THE POOR OLD HORSE THIS little chantey, Professor L M. Merrill (Orono, Maine) says, was taught him by his mother. He adds, "I understand that the song was once in general use along the New England coast" "Saccarappa" was the old name of Westbrook, Maine. I "Old horse, old horse/ how came you here ? " "From Saccarap to Portland pier I've carted stone for many a year. Maine lumberjacks 105 2 "Till, killed by blows and sore abuse, I was salted down for sailors' use. 3 "The sailors they do me despise; They turn me over and damn my eyes; 4 "Cut off my meat and pick my bones, And pitch the rest to Davy Jones/' THE POOR OLD MAN FROM Professor S. P. Chase, 1911, as sung to him "by Mr. Charles Creighton, of Thomaston, Maine, who was at one time a sailor and whose father was a sea-captain." A similar version was printed by Mr. Creightons son, James A. Creighton, in The Bowdoin Quill, December, 1910, XIV, 230-231. 1 There was an old man came riding along Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. There was an old man came riding along Chorus. With a poor old horse. 2 Says I, "Old man, your horse will die Chorus. And we say so, and we know so." Says I, "Old man, your horse will die Chorus. This poor old horse!" 3 "And if he dies, we'll tan his hide Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. And if he lives, we'll take a ride Chorus. This poor old horse!" 4 From Saccarapp to Portland Pier Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. He's carted rock for many a year Chorus. This poor old horse! 5 And now worn out with sore abuse, Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. Salted down for sailors' use Chorus. This poor old horse! |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: GUEST,Phil d'Conch Date: 15 Oct 23 - 06:52 AM Pedantic point of maritime work song order: It would serve as both ceremonial forebitter and halyard chantey when used to hoist the horse. Believe it or don't…Am I flogging a dead horse...? The effigy was often illuminated with a signal flare (blue light) and dropped after sunset. The 'auction' bits were an old time side “benefit” (ie: modern day tip or gratuity.) Long post: “Monday, March 3.— We had this evening what to the sailors was evidently splendid fun, and what to the emigrants was at least a novelty. An auspicious ceremony, known to seamen as “Flogging the Dead Horse,'” has been performed. For the benefit of the uninitiated I explain. When the crew for a vessel are engaged, the owners allow them to draw the first month's wages in advance ; and those who know our sailors best will be disposed to believe that not a great amount of the “advance” remains in hand when eventually the crew ship them- selves for the voyage. The sailors regard this first month's work as a sort of nightmare—the sooner it is over the better they like it. And when the month is up, and their wages commence to accumulate, they celebrate the occasion in the manner I am about to describe. Well, this day completed the first month of the sailors' service ; and they manufactured what they called, and what for courtesy's sake I will also call, “a horse.” There was no nonsence about this said gallant steed. I cannot exactly allude to its fiery eyes, or to its dilating nostrils—for the simple reason that it had neither. I may safely speak as to its mouth and jaws, and will be well within the mark if I assert that never before in my life did I witness a horse with such a magnificently concocted pecking machine. The carcase was fearfully and wonderfully made. Some canvas which had done service for our good ship for the past three years, was first sewn into shape, and by dint of much intricate work and delicate persuasion, the internal organs, in the shape of shavings and hay, were artistically inserted. The assistance of a pseudo veterinary surgeon was then called into requisition, the needle and thread were applied, and the carcase stood forth a completed thing. And it was a sight to behold. Its arched neck, the gracefully-curved back, the handsome rise of the haunches, and the prettily-rounded turn given to the posteriors— these, brought to a climax by a tail of flax of magnificent proportions, were, as I have intimated, a sight to behold. But the sight of all was the gallant charger's legs. They were none of your thin-ankled, slimly-built, tapering legs. They were good, genuine, stout, all-straight-down-alike, such as would have graced the most elephantine of elephants, or even that much maligned gentleman (late of Dartmoor) the Claimant himself. Legs, the joints of which were never likely to get out of joint, with hoofs such as horse or effigy never possessed before, and, I am inclined to think, may never possess again. And now you have the horse before you — 'Twas not a form that the artist calls fine; 'Twas not a form in the classical line; But it was a decently-rounded conglomeration of hay and straw, canvas and sailors' breeches, honestly manufactured, and a legitimate outcome of the united intelligence of half a hundred Dutchmen and Englishmen. My sense of admiration was so overpowering that serious thoughts possessed me of driving a bargain for a purchase of this exquisite work of art, with a view of presenting it as a souvenir to one of our museums; but the idea was evanescent. A programme of other and more serious work was chalked out for the interesting creature. The shades of evening were approaching, and with them there came the sounds of laughter and revelry. From the forecastle there emerged a roaring procession of Englishmen, Irishmen, Scotchmen, and Dutchmen—sailors, cooks, stokers, engineers, and emigrants. In their midst, bound around its neck with a stout rope, they dragged the unhappy effigy of their own creation, and even as Macbeth's witches marched around the seething cauldron, so even marched my heterogeneous procession round and round the ship, chanting to a horribly flat minor key— Poor old man, thy horse will die — Poor old horse. And when he dies we'll tan his hide — Poor old horse. Poor old horse, thy days are ended — Poor old horse. Having repeated the chanting of this elegant piece of poesy for half an hour or more, the procession wended its way to the foremast, which one of the sailors mounted, carrying with him a line attached to the “poor old horse.” Amid the united “hurrahs!” of the English, Irish, and Scotchmen, and the deep-toned “Hoerá's!” of the Dutchmen, the effigy was then hauled up to the yardarm. Sundry invocations to the publican's 'spirits" were offered up at this solemn juncture; and presently, accompanied by a final roar of merriment, the line attached to the executed "old horse" was cut, the effigy fell with a loud plunge into the sea, and in a few moments the 'horse" was lost to the sight of mortal man for ever. It was a scene calculated to arouse a man's moral faculties, and I fell to sentimentalising. The conclusion arrived at was, that as the “horse” had become food for fishes, I could do little else than pity the whale or any such other monstrosity who, mistaking the Dutchman's Stad Haarlem* “horse” for a real dead one, swallowed it under the delusion that it would afford a wholesome meal. I will venture to predict that that veritable whale will suffer from periodical attacks of indigestion during the next half century. The upshot of all this mummery was that we—the saloon passengers—were " respectfully invited" to stand glasses of grog all round to the crew. It was not within the power of human nature to withstand such an appeal, so sundry bottles of whisky were subscribed for, and glasses were ordered. It is due to the Dutchmen to add that they swallowed the “real Dublin” with as much gusto as if it were goodly Scheidam, while the English fraction of the crew did splendid justice to the reputation they bear of knowing how to get outside of a capital “dhrop o' the cratur.” [Old England and New Zealand, Simmons, 1879] *Barque rigged auxilliary steamer S.S. Stad Haarlem (1875) at Rootsweb. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: GUEST,Phil d'Conch Date: 15 Oct 23 - 06:56 AM New this year: Reuben Ranzo! Chanteys in Royal Navy? Standard “RN chanty” disclaimer: No, indeed; from C19, when it caught on in the merchant service, whaling fleets, &c, shanty singing, according to all authorities I have read, was forbidden in the Royal Navy, the necessary work rhythms being provided by drum and fife, or perhaps fiddle, rather than by a solo singer; and the hauling crew were encouraged to use their breath for the task rather than for singing. The so-called Indianmen worked both sides of the aisle, peacetime or wartime. The cost/benefit of keeping a musician on the payroll always figured in. No shortage of fiddle and fife music in the merchant marine or singing in the RN. On both topics, c.1879 Australian (merchant?) passage: “Burying of the Dead Horse” (Havergal, Music in the Royal Navy, Proceedings of the Musical Association, 1891.) Fwiw: The author entered the service as a cadet in 1864; promoted to full LT in '76 for service on the Challenger expedition. Also surveyed the Bahamas, Jamaica & St. Vincent on the H.M.S. Sparrowhawk. Seems more than a bit confused betwixt “fore-bitter” & “shanties” though. |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: GUEST,Julia L Date: 20 Oct 23 - 09:16 PM Just to muddy the waters, I submit this from Maine collections OLD HORSE p222 Minstrelsy of Maine by Fanny Hardy Eckstorm 1925 Fifty years ago every Maine child knew the sailor lines on ‘The Old Horse’: ‘Old horse, old horse, what brought you here?’ ‘From Saccarap’ to Portland Pier I carted stone this many a year; Till now, worn down by sore abuse, I’m salted down for sailors’ use. The sailors they do me despise, They turn me o’er and damn my eyes, Cut off my meat and pick my bones And throw the rest to Davy Jones.’ 1 After this was in type, we obtained a fragment of this song from Mrs. Joan B. Moore, of Seawall, Southwest Harbor, who said that the song used to be much sung along the coast in her childhood. Mrs. Lewis F. Gott, of Bernard, adds two lines not found elsewhere: Between the mainmast and the pump I’m salted down in great big junks. ‘My father, Captain J. W. Carroll,’ writes Mrs. Seth S. Thornton, ‘ told us that sailors used to take the tough salt meat that was furnished for their rations up on a fork and repeat this verse: ‘Old hoss, old hoss, what brought you here? You carted dirt for many a year From Saccarap’ to Portland Pier; But now worn out by sore abuse, You’re salted down for sailors’ use. We’ll turn you over and pick your bones And cast the rest to Davy Jones.’ The rhymes were known by the name of ‘ The Sailor’s Grace.’ ‘There was his grace before meat,’ writes Miss Colcord (p. 114), ‘when the beef kids came in from the galley,’ and she quotes a form like the first given. ‘There was a good deal said about horse beef in those days, and you could hear that song almost anywhere among sailors,’ said an old sailor to Mr. Windsor P. Daggett, remarking upon its being sung in Vermont upwards of a century ago. The earliest printed form of this disparaging ditty is in a footnote in Richard Henry Dana’s ‘Two Years before the Mast,’ where he gives substantially our first version, with comments as interesting as they are authentic. The best pieces of beef in a barrel were reserved for the cabin, he said; the poorer, for the crew. ‘There is a singular piece of rhyme, traditional among sailors, which they say over such pieces of beef. I do not know that it ever appeared in print before. When seated round the kid, if a particularly bad piece of beef is found, one of them takes it up and addresses it thus’—and he quotes the lines, including Saccarappa and Portland Pier. Saccarappa is now Westbrook, near Portland; paving-blocks cut there, at one time a considerable industry, were hauled by horses to Portland for vessel shipment. The song was carried all over the seas by Maine sailors and even worked its way into foreign vessels. The writer still vividly recalls the old British man-of-warsman, on the Pacific coast, who sometimes came in for a roast-beef dinner, who, after the meal was over, would remark, ‘Now I’ll sing you the sailors’ grace.’ Then he would shut his eyes, throw back his head and straightway begin ‘The Old Horse,’ ending it with a 4 Poo-or old horse, let him die-e-e' which seemed to be drawn from his boots it was so deep and long intoned. And to the Maine girl there was always a strangeness in hearing this old British sea-dog singing of Saccarap’ and Portland Pier. Of late years this ‘Sailors’ Grace’ has become very much mixed up with two songs. One is the halliards chantey of ‘Poor Old Horse,’ or ‘Poor Old Man,’ which is only the ‘Grace’ adapted as a work song by inserting chorus parts and a story element. The difference in use chiefly distinguishes the two. A form given by W. B. Whall in ‘Ships, Sea-Songs and Shanties’ (first ed. pub. 1910) has a part resembling the Maine song: Old horse, old horse, what brought you here After carrying sand for many a year From Bantry Bay to Ballywhack, Where you fell down and broke your back? Now after years of such abuse, They salt you down for sailors’ use, They tan your hide and burn your bones And send you off to Davy Jones. (From 4th ed., p. 118.) This is no improvement on ‘Saccarap’ and Portland Pier,’ and as it was not printed until more than seventy years after Dana heard the song sung — which he says was even then ‘traditional’ - a heavy burden of proof is placed upon the shoulders of any who claim that the Maine song is the adaptation. The ceremonial of ‘burying the dead horse’ was, as Miss Colcord says, a purely English custom, and connecting it with the Maine form of the ‘Grace’ is misleading and shows the writer to be only a ‘paper sailor.’ The other poem often confused with this is the English song called ‘My Old Horse,’ where the worn-out creature disposes of his bones and hide by making his will. This should not be confounded with the sailor songs mentioned, as all they have in common is a similarity of title. —————— from Songs of the Maine Lumberjacks by Roland Palmer Gray 1924 p 104 Poor Old Horse THIS song, of English origin but adapted by tradition to localities in Maine, was originally sung as part of a sailors' ceremony known as "the burial of the dead horse," a full account of which (with a text of the song) is given by Evelyn A. Melvill Richards in Folk-Lore > 1897, VIII, 281-283. For English texts (with tune) see also Bullen and Arnold, Songs of Sea Labour i , No. 29, p. 25; Tozer, Sailors' Songs, jd ed., No. 47, pp. 88-89; Whall, Sea Songs and Shanties, 4th ed., p. 119; Sharp, English Folk-Chanteys, No. 47, p. 52. It has often been used as a chantey. A fragmentary American text (with tune) may be found in Admiral Luce's Naval Songs, 2d ed., 1902, p. 224. A somewhat similar song ("Poor Old Horse"), though quite distinct from this, is current in England. See Sharp, One Hun- dred English Folksongs, pp. xxxix, 196-197; Sharp, English Folk Songs, Selected Edition, II, xviii, 88-89; Sharp, Folk-Songs of England, IV, 16-17; Sharp and Marson, Folk Songs from Somerset, I, 54; Baring-Gould and Sharp, English Folk-Songs for Schools, No. 20, pp. 42-43. This is common in recent English broadsides (Forth, Pocklington; J. Livsey, Manchester, No. 240; Bebbington, Manchester, No. 140; Cadman, Manchester, No. 33), but the oldest printed text recorded is in a Boston, Massachusetts, broadside in the Isaiah Thomas collection (formed in 1813) in the library of the American Antiquarian Society (II, 120), "My Old Horse." THE POOR OLD HORSE THIS little chantey, Professor L M. Merrill (Orono, Maine) says, was taught him by his mother. He adds, "I understand that the song was once in general use along the New England coast" "Saccarappa" was the old name of Westbrook, Maine. I "Old horse, old horse/ how came you here ? " "From Saccarap to Portland pier I've carted stone for many a year. Maine lumberjacks 105 2 "Till, killed by blows and sore abuse, I was salted down for sailors' use. 3 "The sailors they do me despise; They turn me over and damn my eyes; 4 "Cut off my meat and pick my bones, And pitch the rest to Davy Jones/' THE POOR OLD MAN FROM Professor S. P. Chase, 1911, as sung to him "by Mr. Charles Creighton, of Thomaston, Maine, who was at one time a sailor and whose father was a sea-captain." A similar version was printed by Mr. Creightons son, James A. Creighton, in The Bowdoin Quill, December, 1910, XIV, 230-231. 1 There was an old man came riding along Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. There was an old man came riding along Chorus. With a poor old horse. 2 Says I, "Old man, your horse will die Chorus. And we say so, and we know so." Says I, "Old man, your horse will die Chorus. This poor old horse!" 3 "And if he dies, we'll tan his hide Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. And if he lives, we'll take a ride Chorus. This poor old horse!" 4 From Saccarapp to Portland Pier Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. He's carted rock for many a year Chorus. This poor old horse! 5 And now worn out with sore abuse, Chorus. And we say so, and we know so. Salted down for sailors' use Chorus. This poor old horse! |
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Subject: RE: Lyr Add: The Dead Horse Chantey From: Gibb Sahib Date: 14 Oct 23 - 09:33 PM Here's Frederic Maccabe's 1867 (I think) composition, giving the refrains and structure/tune of "Poor Old Man" https://tile.loc.gov/storage-services/service/music/mussm/mu/ss/m-/sm/18/75/-0/4 |
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