The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #166643   Message #4008734
Posted By: GUEST,Wm
13-Sep-19 - 09:42 PM
Thread Name: Tune Req: Derry Down
Subject: RE: Tune Req: Derry Down
Hi Steve, sorry for the confusion. You can add Beaver River and Miner Hill to the list of New York State lumberjack songs with the tune in question. Both can usually be heard at adirondackmusic.org, although the site appears to be down at the moment. I've added the lyrics to the latter below.

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MINER HILL

[Transcribed in ONE ROUGH LIFE, Robert D. Bethke, from the 1972 singing of Theodore Ashlaw. Ashlaw attributes primary authorship to Johnny Pealo, ca. 1915–17, and secondary authorship to himself.]

Come boys, if you'll listen, I'll sing you a song,
If you'll pay good attention, it won't take me long;
It's up here at Cutting's, at Camp Number One,
The boys call the firm there Cutting and Son,
Derry down, down, dey derry down.

Now the camp it is run by a Fort Jackson pet;
You all know him well, it's Levi Fayette.

Miss Fayette is our cook, she is big and fat,
She's got lots to do but but she doesn't mind that;
She's got lots to do, so I've heard her tell,
But she gets right around and she does it up well.

Now, two in the morning the foreman would call,
To wake up the teamsters, likewise Mike, his son.
Saying, "Come on there, you teamsters, and get out of that;
"Go and feed those big horses and throw on the straps."

There's but nine loaders, there's three in each gang;
We loaded our loads and the binders we sprang.
We loaded our loads with both strength and skill,
For they're all damn poor skidways up around Miner Hill.

Now, there's Myron Planty, he drives the big blacks;
He's on the lead and he hurries right back.
He drives to the skidway four times every day,
And said, "Roll them on, boys, and I'll haul them away."

Arthur Binan, he drives the big bays;
He['s always happy when hooked to the sleighs.
He works his team both early and late;
No other team there their eveners dare take.

But his brother, Lawrence, can't do quite so well,
For his old team is all shot to hell.

His little nigh mare, she's not very fat,
And he said, "I don't care, by the bald-headed cat!"

There's but one more teamster, big George Supernault;
He ought to be dealt with according to law.
For he whips them poor horses, it's surely a sin;
He's got a long whip with a chain on the end.

Now, whiskey and poker they do not allow:
One is a nuisance, the other violates the law.
So we'd say to the blacksmith, "Let's have a few pots."
He said, "Go get the boys and we'll play in the shop."

Now, our logs are all landed down on the railroad;
When our checks are made out we'll go down the tote road.

Now some will buy a quart, and perhaps three or four,
But be damned if they'd work for Fayette any more.

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Beaver River is of similar character, and attributed to Ashlaw.