The Digital Tradition lyrics are on the left. The lyrics on the right are from Body, Boots, and Britches: New York State Folktales, Legends, and Ballads, by Harold W. Thompson (1962 Dover reprint of the 1939 original. Page 242).
Thompson says:
- I shall therefore proceed to a better ballad about one real danger present on the canal—the menace of the low bridge. "Boatin’ on a Bull-Head" was found by Mr. Alex. Stearns of Syracuse, written out in an old copy-book left in his father’s hair-trunk, long ago used on the canal; a copy was given to Mr. Walsh, who kindly furnished me with the following note: A Bull-Head boat was built flush up to the cabin. The mule-cabin was away up in the bow, and the stern-cabin left no room for a stern-deck. The steersman had to stand on the cabin-roof to steer. Between the top of the cabin and the bridges there was very little clearance; therefore, if the steersman didn’t see a bridge in time, in a very little space he was swept off by the bridge-timbers. Many a canaller was killed or crippled by this type of boat.
| BOATING ON A BULLHEAD (DT Lyrics) I was sleepin' in a line barn and eatin' beans and hay While the boss was kickin' my starn ev'ry night and ev'ry day So I hired out canawlin' as a horny hand of toil Drivin' mules that kept a-bawlin' 'long the towpath's smelly soil. Well, my feet raised corns and blisters While the mules but raised a stink; I took and threw them twisters Plumb into the dirty drink. I thought I'd give up driving And the Cap he thought so, too He said,"Hire out a diving Or go bowing a canoe." I was drying on the heel path Watching boats haul up and down, Shivering from the first good bath I got since I left town. When a boat tied up in the basin At the wood dock for the night. And I lost no time to hasten 'Round the bridge to ask for a bite. They filled me up with beans and shote And they lighted me a cob. They asked if I could steer a boat And they offered me a job. The next morning I was boosted To the stern cabin's roof. With the tiller there I roosted And watched the driver hoof. Now the boat she was a Bullhead Decked up to the cabin's top. Many canawlers now are dead Who had no place to drop. When the bowsman he forgot to yell "Low bridge, duck 'er down." The Bullhead steersman went to Hell With a bridgestring for a crown. We were loaded down with Star Brand salt The Captain was loaded, too. I wouldn't say it was all his fault But what was a man to do? The bridge was only a heave away When I saw it 'round the bend. To the Cap a word I didn't say While tumbling end over end. So canawlers take my warning Never steer a Bullhead boat. Or they'll find you some fair morning In the E-ri-e afloat. Do all your navigating From a line barn filled with hay. And low bridge you won't be hating And you'll live 'til Judgement Day. | BOATIN' ON A BULL-HEAD (from Thompson) I was sleepin' in a Line-barn and eatin' beans and hay While the boss was kickin' my starn ev'ry night and ev'ry day So I hired out canawlin' as a horny hand of toil Drivin' mules that kept a-bawlin' 'long the towpath's smelly soil. But my feet raised corns and blisters While the mules but raised a stink; Roped my feet and threw some twisters Plumb into the dirty drink. So I thought I'd give up driving For the captain thought so too He said, "Hire out at divin' Or go bowin' a canoe." I was dryin' on the heel-path Watchin' boats haul up and down, A-shiverin' from the first bath I'd got since I left town. When a boat tied in the basin At the wood-dock for the night, And I lost no time to hasten 'Round the bridge to ask a bite. They filled me up with beans and shote And lighted me a cob. They asked me if I could steer a boat And offered me a job. The next mornin' I was boosted To the stern cabin's roof. With the tiller there I roosted And watched the driver hoof. Now the boat she was a Bull-Head Decked up to the cabin's top; Many canawlers now are dead Who had no place to drop. (When the bowsman he forgot to yell, "Low bridge, ducker down." The Bull-Head steersman went to hell With a bridge-string for a crown.) We were loaded down with Star Brand Salt; The Cap, he was loaded, too. I wouldn't say it was all his fault, But what was a man to do? The bridge was only a heave away When I saw it 'round the bend. To the Cap a word I didn't say While turning end over end. So canawlers, take my warning: Never steer a Bull-Head boat Or they'll find you some fair mornin' In the E-ri-e afloat. Do all your fine navigatin' In the Line-barn full of hay. And 'Low Bridge' you won't be hatin' And you'll live 'til Judgement Day. |
From The Canaller's Songbook
Collected from Lyman King
@canal @work
filename[ BULLHEAD
TUNE FILE: BULLHEAD
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