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Lighter Lyr Req: From Buffalo to Troy (canal song) (29) RE: Lyr Req: From Buffalo to Troy (canal song) 26 Jul 22


Here's Dick Swain's version from 1988. I don't be;ieve he mentioned a source. The tune was a leisurely "Bigler":

                         THE O-HI-O CANAL

Now I’ve traveled all around the world and Chillicothe too,
Been cast on desert islands and been beaten black and blue,
Fought and bled at Gettysburg - I’ve wandered all forlorn,
But I’ll never forget the trip I took to Cleveland haulin’ corn.

Chorus: Tramp, tramp, tramp, tramp, tighten up the line.
         Watch the playful horseflies as on the mules they climb.
         Whoa! Back! Cuss the mules! Forget it I never shall -
         I’m every inch a sailor on the O-hi-o Canal.

Now the cook we had aboard our boat stood six feet in her socks,
A bosom like a boxcar and her breath would open the locks.
A maid of sixty summers was she and slept upon the floor,
And when she went to sleep at night, O Sufferin’, how she’d snore!

Now the cook she is a daisy, and she’s dead stuck on me.
She has fiery red hair - she’s just sweet sixty-three.
Sunburned and freckled, she’s a daisy and a pet -
We use her after sunset for a headlight on the deck.

Now I shipped on board at Portsmouth town with Captain Billy York.
The first thing ever he rolled on board was a barrel of Black Rock
                                                                pork.
All the way to Cleveland, he fed it to poor old me -
Then he boiled the barrel and the rest of the pork and we had it all
                                                             for tea.

Now just outside of Massillon we struck a lump of coal;
It gave the boat a hell of a shock and stove in a big hole.
I hollered to the driver on the towpath treadin’ dirt,
And he jumped on board and he plugged the leak with his lousy
                                                          undershirt.

When we got to Cleveland town with Sally, Jim, and Hank,
We greased ourselves in tallow fat and slid off on a plank.
The girls are in the Police Gazette, the captain’s gone to jail,
And I’m the only son of a sea-cook left to tell the tale.


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