Blue Mountain Lake
(as recorded by Sara Grey)

When the God of creation he fashioned our land,
The beauties of nature he did understand;
The choicest of them in hand He did take,
And He fashioned the region 'round Blue Mountain Lake,
Derry down, down, down derr'y down.

Mountains in their grandeur 'round this eden rise,
The pines with their branches that point to the skies;
Disease is not cured by potion or pills,
And the strength of our God is the strength of the Hills.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

At last the bright happy New Year did come,
The boys has some whiskey and meant to have fun,
Some played the fiddle, some danced and some sang,
While the walls of the shanty to their music rang.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

Now Mitchell Camfield, he kept our shanty,
As mean an old grouch as you ever did see;
He'd lay 'round the shanty all day, and at night
If man said a word he was ready to fight.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

At the stroke of eleven, bold Mitchell did say,
"We've had enough racket, I'm sure for one day,
Besides I have got quite a pain in my head,
So, boys, put up your fiddles and go straight to bed!"
Derry down, down, down derry down.

Up spoke Patsy McDonough, the boss of the gang
- He could fell the tall pine as he whistled and sang -
"To command me to silence any man I defy!"
In his voice there was courage, and red in his eye.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

Then Mitchell then attempted to put Patsy out,
But big Pat, with his fist, he soon put him to rout;
Mitchell's wife she stood there, if the truth I would tell,
She was tickled to death to see Mitchell catch hell.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

So they kept up the racket, the noise end the din,
'Til the bright happy New Year they did other in;
Mitchell's a much different man, so 'tis said,
And he's troubled no more with a pain in his head.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

A lumberman's life is the best life of all,
With the boys ever ready to come at my call;
There seems to be health in each breath that I take,
I'll live, die and be buried in Blue Mountain Lake.
Derry down, down, down derry down.

Grey's notes: This song comes from the singing of Lily de Lorme from near Plattsburg. New York. It was collected by Helen Harkness Flanders from Vermont. The reference to the "potions or pills" is that in the early part of the 1900's Saranec Lake wes a haven for TB sufferers. I learned the song from a great singer from upstate New York George Ward. George said, that as a young boy in the Adirondack mountains, that pulling at one end of a two man saw would probably have been quite a macho performance.