Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs

Subject: Lyr Add: SHANTY MAN'S LIFE
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 16 Jan 14 - 11:54 AM

Three groups of songs use the term "shanty."

Marine songs; shanty or chantey
. Songs about rude dwellings and their inhabitants; shipboard work songs.
Songs about loggers (lumber men); shanty men or shantyboys.

This thread will be devoted to songs of the lumber camps and the men who work as loggers.

---

Lyr. Add: SHANTY MAN'S LIFE
Sung by Mark Lanegan; composer anon.

A shanty man's life is a wearisome one
Though some say it's free from care
It's the swinging of an axe from morning 'til night
In the forest wild and drear.

Transported as we are from a lady so fair
To the banks of some lonely stream
Where the wolf, bear and owl
Give a terrifying howl and disturb our nightly dreams.

Oh, sleeping at night in our bunks without cheer
While the cold winter winds do blow
But as soon as the morning star does appear
To the wild woods we must go.

Had we ale, wine or beer, our sprits for to cheer,
When we're in those woods so wild
Where a glass of whiskey shone, while we're in the woods alone
For to pass away our long exile.

A shanty man's life is a wearisome one
Though some say it's free from care
It's the swinging of an axe from morning 'til night
In the forest wild and drear.

http://en.scorser.com/Lyrics/Mark+Lanegan/Unknown/Shanty+Man+s+Life/3394001.html

Subject: Lyr Add: A SHANTY MAN'S LIFE 2
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 16 Jan 14 - 01:28 PM

A more complete version of the Lanegan song.

Lyr. Add: A SHANTY MAN'S LIFE 2
Trad.

A shanty man's life is a drearisome life,
Though sometimes free of all care.
'Tis swinging an ax from morning till night
In the midst of the forest so drear.
'Tis swinging an ax from morning till night
In the midst of the forest so drear.

We are lying in the shanty; it's bleak and it's cold,
While cold, wintry winds do blow.
The wolves and the owls with their terrible growls
Disturb us from our midnight dreams.
The wolves and the owls with their terrible growls
Disturb us from our midnight dreams.

Transported we are from all pretty, fair maids.
There's no whisky seen till it's spring.
There's not a friend near to wipe away a tear
While sorrow a sad mind will bring.
There's not a friend to wipe away a tear
While sorrow a sad mind will bring.

Had we ale, wine, or beer, our spirits to cheer
While here in the woods the long while,
Or a glass of anything while here all alone
To cheer up our long, long exile.
Or a glass of anything while here all alone
To cheer up our long, long exile.

About four o'clock our noisy little cook
Cries, "Boys, it's the break of day."
With heavy sighs from slumbers we rise
To go with the bright morning star.
With heavy sighs from slumber we rise
To go with the bright morning star.

When springtime comes in, double troubles begin,
For the water it is piercing cold.
Dripping wet are our clothes and we're almost froze,
And our pike poles we scarcely can hold.
Dripping wet are our clothes and we're almost froze,
And our pike poles we scarcely can hold.

You can talk about your farms, but your shanty boy has charms;
They are far superior to all.
They will join each other's hearts until death them all parts
Whether they be great or small.
They will join each other's hearts until death them all parts
Whether they be great or small.

So rafting I'll give o'er and anchored safe on shore
Lead a quiet and a sober life;
No more will I roam but contented stay at home
With a smiling and a charming little wife.
No more will I roam but contented stay at home
With a smiling and a charming little wife.

E. C. Beck, 1941, "Songs of the Michigan Lumberjacks," Univ. Michigan Press, pp. 26-27.
Reprinted in Duncan Emrich, "American Folk Poetry," pp. 558-559.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE SHANTYBOY'S ALPHABET
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 16 Jan 14 - 03:59 PM

Lyr. Add: THE SHANTYBOY'S ALPHABET
Traditional, sung by Emerson Woodcock, Ontario.

A is for axes, which all of you know,
And B is for boys that can use them also.
C is for chopping we do first begin,
And D is for danger we ofttimes are in.

Refrain-
So merry, so merry, so merry are we,
No mortal on earth is as happy as we.
Hi derry, ho derry, hi derry down,
Give the shantyboys whiskey and nothing goes wrong.

E is for echo that through the woods ring,
And F is for foreman, the boss of our gang.
G is for grindstone we grind our axe on,
And H is for handle so smoothly worn.

I is for iron we mark all our pine,
And J is for jolly boys always on time.
K is for keen edge all our axes do keep,
And L is for lice that keep us from sleep.

M is for moss we chink in our camps,
Snd N is for needle we mend our old pants.
O is for owl that howl all the night,
And P is for pine we fall in daylight.

Q is for quarreling we do not allow,
And R is for river the logs they do plow.
S is for sleighs so stout and so strong,
T is for teams to haul them along.

U is for use we put our teams to,
And V is for valley we run our logs through.
W is for woods we leave in the spring,
So now you have heard all I have to sing.

Several versions, the song collected as early as 1904, widespread in North America.

Pp. 25-26, with musical score; Edith Fowke, 1970, "Lumbering Songs from the Northern Woods; published for the American Folklore Society, Univ. texas Press.

Subject: Lyr Add: WRIGHT IS LEFT
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 19 Jan 14 - 01:47 PM

The following is not really a song, but it has the authentic flavor of the lumber camp.

Lyr. Add: WRIGHT IS LEFT
"Phebe." From an old ledger. c. 1881?

1
An essay now I mean to write
Though blotted it may look.
'Tis all about the foreman Wright
And of the shanty cook.
2
The cook is a good-natured lass
Excepting when she's mad.
The foreman is an old jackass;
And that makes things go bad.
3
You ask what is the matter
And how it all began.
And when I am done writing,
You will think it piles of fun.
4
Now this cook she had a sister
And this sister had a beau.
And one night when he called to see her,
Mr. Wright said it would not do.
5
To think that Wright was not right then!
It was to him no bother.
He said if he couldn't stop it one way,
He thought he could another.
6
So this sister she got mad
And from the shanty went
And left this lofty foreman
To see if he would repent.
7
The next that I remember
It was about the cook.
He said she broke a jar
And he charged it on the book.
8
He said she broke the jar
By putting in some fire.
She said she done no such a thing
And called old Wright a liar.
9
And then one Sunday morning
The lookingglass she sought.
She found it nailed up tight
With spikes and nails of wrought.
10
Then back she came to the shanty
Oh my, how Wright did frown.
When he heard her say to her husband,
"Come, take that lookingglass down."
11
So off goes Frank, her husband,
With ready axe in hand.
And brings to her the lookingglass
As she had give command.
12
Now every day the glass was brought
Up to the kitchen and back.
Until one certain evening
When Wright was looking black.
13
It was on this certain evening
As the cook was preparing hash
That Nick with the help of the foreman
Broke the lookingglass all to smash.
14
The next that I remember
Was a notice on the door.
Which said to the boys a-peeling bark,
"Please use white towels no more."
15
Up comes the lofty foreman
And read it with a frown.
And with his meddlesome fingers
He takes the notice down.
16
Well things turned crossways then,
The cook was getting mad.
And when she wouldn't speak to him
He told his wife's old dad.
17
"Well," says the Boss, "that will not do.
You know her man is slack.
Whatever you do, my son-in-law,
I'll stand up to your back."
18
He comes up to the shanty door
And this to the cook did speak.
"I understand you will not work
For the sum of $3 per week."
19
"No sir," says she, "not to please you;
For that I will not stay.
Nor will I from this shanty go
Until I have my pay."
20
He took old Hank, the car *boss, (*hoss?)
And drove him all around
Until on Monday evening
Yet no other cook he'd found.
21
So back he came with Henry
And put him in the barn.
That hoss was looking thin then then
For want of hay and corn.
22
The oxen is getting poor,
And the boarders begin to cry.
I cannot pay such a helluva price
For beans and dried apple pie.
23
"Well," says the Boss as he looks around,
I think it is a sin.
I don't see what the reason is
We can't keep any men."
24
Now that is easy to be guessed.
The foreman they all hate.
I think if they could have their choice,
They would rather meet a snake.
25
Now for three weeks or more
We will let the subject rest
Until Wright has gone to Cadillac
There for to build his nest.
26
Yes, Wright has gone. Now peace will reign.
The cook says she will stay.
For says the boys, "If you will not go,
I will see that you have your pay."
27
Now reader, if you doubt one word
Or think this is not true,
To satisfy your mind
And some of Fifseus crew.
28
Ask Sue or Harv or John or George
Or Dave or Frank or Jack.
And if they say this is not true,
Then I will take it back.
29
And now if you are tired
Or reading here so long.
Just put to this pinewoods tune
And you will have a song.

Pp. 172-176; without tune.

E. C. Beck, 1948, "Lore of the Lumber Camps;" Univ. Michigan Press.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE SHANTY BOY WINS
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 19 Jan 14 - 02:44 PM

Lyr. Add: THE SHANTY BOY WINS
Sung by "Dode" Sherman and Carl Gullekson

1
As I rode out one evening,
Just as the sun went down,
I rode along quite carelessly
Till I came near Trenton town.
2
I heard two maids conversing there
As I rode slowly by.
One said she loved a farmer's son,
The other, a shanty boy.
3
The one that loved a farmer's son,
These words I heard her say:
The reason why she loved him was
Because with her he'd stay.
4
He would stay with her all winter;
To the woods he would not go;
And when the spring it comes again
His ground he'd plow and sow.
5
"Oh! how you praise your farmer's son,'
The other one did say.
"If his crops should prove a failure
His debts he could not pay.
6
"If his crops should prove a failure
Or the market get too low
The sheriff then would sell him out
To pay the debts he'd owe."
7
"As for the sheriff selling out,
You need not be alarmed;
For there's no use of being in debt
When you are on a farm.
8
"On a farm you earn your bread
Without working in snow and rain,
While the shanty boy works hard each day
His family to maintain.
9
"Oh! how I love my shanty boy,
Who goes off in the fall.
He is both stout and hearty,
He's fit to stand the squall.
10
"With pleasure I';; receive him
In the spring when he comes down.
His money he will spend quite free
While you *mossbacks have got none."
11
"Oh! how you praise your shanty boy,
Who to the woods must go.
He's ordered out before daylight
To work in storms of snow,
12
"While happy and contented
With my mossback I will lie,
And he'll tell me tales of love
While the storms they pass us by."
13
"Oh! I cannot stand that soft talk,
Those mossbacks' sons do say;
For some of them they are so green
The cows'd eat them for hay.
14
"'Tis easy for to know them
When they come into town,
For the small boys all do gather round
Saying, 'Mossy, hoe 'er down.'"
15
"Of what I've said of your shanty boy
I hope you'll pardon me,
And from that ignorant mossback
I'll try and get me free.
16
"And if ever I get a chance
With a shanty boy I'll go,
I will leave that mossback
His ground to plow and sow.
17
"So here's health to Dodge & Co.,
Those enterprising men,
Who for the good of Michigan
Are doing all they can.
18
"And here's health to the shanty boy,
Who makes the wildwoods ring.
They fall their pine in the wintertime
And drive them in the spring."

*Mossback- farmer.

Pp. 163-166, with musical score.
Versions are known from New Hampshire and the West.

E. C. Beck, 1948, "Lore of the Lumber Camps," Univ. Michigan Press.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE JOLLY SHANTY BOY
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 19 Jan 14 - 07:46 PM

Lyr. Add: THE JOLLY SHANTY BOY
Trad., Michigan

1
I am a jolly shanty boy
Who loves to sing and dance.
I wonder what my girls would say
If they could see my pants?
2
With fourteen patches on the knee
And six upon the stern,
I'll wear them while I'm in the woods
And home when I return.
3
For I am on my jolly way,
I spend my money free.
I have plenty- come and drink
Lager beer with me.
4
I'll write my love a letter,
I'll give the ink a tip,
And if that don't fetch her up to time,
I guess I'll let her slip.
5
For I don't care for rich or poor,
I'm not for strife or grief;
I'm ragged, fat, and lousy, and
As tough as Spanish beef.
6
Those dark-eyed single lasses,
They think a heap of me.
You ought to see me throw myself
When I go on a spree.
7
Rigged up like a clipper ship
Sailing round the Horn,
Head and tail up like a steer
Rushing through the corn.
8
Now to conclude and finish,
I hope I've offended none.
I've told you of my troubles,
Since the day that I begun.
9
With patched-up clothes and rubber boots
And mud up to the knees,
With lice as big as chili beans
Fighting with the fleas.

Pp. 11-12, lyrics only.
E. C. Beck, 1948, "Lore of the Lumber Camps," Univ. Michigan Press.

Subject: Lyr Add: THE HAGGERTYS AND YOUNG MULVANNY
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 20 Jan 14 - 11:49 AM

Lyr. Add: THE HAGGERTYS AND YOUNG MULVANNY
Tune: Youghal Harbour (Irish). Coll. in Quebec

1
One pleasant evening as I did wander
When the trees and blossoms were all in bloom,
And the pleasant odor from off the treetops
Did scent the air with its sweet perfume,
All nature seemed to be early smiling.
The forest's green leaves were spreading wide,
And the branching shadows from sprouting treetops
Did burst the meadows from every side.
2
The shades of evening did streak the landscape,
The silvery moon did appear in view,
And beyond the crest of yon green-topped mountain
Where the setting sun bid each scene adieu.
My thoughts did wander to seek some pleasure
As e'er those fields grew more dim each day;
At yonder forest I gazed in silence
Where nature shines her last gleam of ray.
3
I spied a maiden in melancholy:
She wrang her hands, weeping in despair,
And the mournful cries of this youthful damsel
Re-echoed loud through the balmy air,
For to greet the name of her own dear brother
In deep despair she did recall,
And the crystal teardrops as they descended
Did moist the earth on which they did fall.
4
My curiosity it was excited
To find the cause of her grief and woe,
And by enquiring from this fair damsel
Her sad reply soon gave me to know
That her tears did fall for young Mulvanny,
Who lost his life on the Kipawa Stream:
Both great and humble by all who knew him,
He never failed to gain esteem.
5
Three brave young hearts on the stream did perish,
Her own dear brother being one of these,
And the other two being sons of a widow
Who I'll inform you were Haggertys.
Their reckless deeds caused their own destruction.
Being prompt and ready at every call,
They were the first of the crew selected
To guide that boat o'er the waterfall.
6
With hearts undaunted and courage equal
They did attempt this rash deed to do.
Unconscious were they and also careless
Of the event they were to ensue,
And as they steered her with noble courage,
Their fatal dangers not understood.
They were capsized by a raging billow
And soon engulfed in that mighty flood.
7
With anxious eyes watching every motion
Till in a mist they were lost to gaze,
A spray ascending from off the torrent
And rising up in a smoke-like haze.
Their sympathizing friends stood all around them
The scenes of horror from shore to view,
Till the cruel billows closed o'er their bodies,
And from this world caused them bid adieu.
8
The whole raft's crew did that day assemble
To search the bottom from shore to shore
Beneath the foot of those noisy rapids
Where surging waters do steadily roar.
And as they searched in the still clear water,
Which was only ruffled by a summer's breeze,
The first result of their eager searching
Was finding two of the Haggertys.
9
And not long after they found Mulvanny:
Beneath the green leaves his body lay,
With little pebbles lying all around him,
And little fishes all around him played.
Prostrated low in the sandy bottom
Where nothing dwelt but the fiendish brood,
His curly locks were surging the waters
Moved all around by the restless flood.
10
Not far away up the distant river
Their graves were dug by the rolling tide
Beneath the branches of swaying treetops
Moved by the breezes from every side.
Yes, far away up that distant river
No sound could reach any mother's ear,
And raindrops fell on them from the branches
Instead of parents' lamenting tears.
11
Now melancholy each autumn season
Will be renewed by the changing woods,
And trees and flowers resume their pleasure
And drop their dry leaves like warriors' blood.
Brown and withered and drooping downward
Those virgin green leaves forever lost,
So were those young men cut down while blooming
Just like the flowers of an early frost.

The song is also called "The Kipawa Stream." It was inspired by romantic Irish ballads.
The story was told of how Jimmy the Duck pulled his boat into an eddy to bail but Haggerty and Mulvannon failed to stop to do so and went to their deaths.

First heard from a woman in Calabogie, four stanzas printed in the Renfrew Advance (1963) and later heard from other singers in Quebec. The complete song was taken from a notebook compiled by the sister of Lennox Gavan of Quyon, Quebec.
The Kipawa River drains Lake Kipawa into the Ottawa River
north of Timiskaming.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 20 Jan 14 - 12:08 PM

The above song ("The Haggertys....") is printed with musical score, pp. 138-142; Edith Fowke, 1970, "Lumbering Songs from the Northern Woods," American Folklore Society, University of Texas Press.

The book has a two-page map showing the area of Ontario-Quebec east of Lake Superior.

Subject: Lyr Add: HOW WE GOT UP TO THE WOODS LAST YEAR
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 21 Jan 14 - 01:13 PM

Lyr. Add: HOW WE GOT UP TO THE WOODS LAST YEAR
Sung by Michael Cuddihey, Quebec

1
Come all you lads that would like to hear
How we got up to the woods last year,
Unto that place you all do know-
That sunken hole called Opeongo.

Refrain-
To me rantin' O, fal the diddle ay,
Rant and roar and drunk all the way.

2
On the thirteenth of September last-
God be with those days that passed!-
from Arnprior we did push out
All with John Pratt to show us the route.
3
We travelled on till we came to Renfrew,
'Twas there we met with the rest of the crew,
Handsome boys both young and stout,
The oick of the town there is no doubt.
4
To form an acquaintance we did begin,
Some of the boys dip deep in the gin.
Seven jolly boys got on a spree,
And to hire a rig we did agree.
5
Some of us couldn't pay, some of us could,
But anyway our name were good.
Into that buggy we jerked our boots,
And we made the teamster feed long oats.
6
You may depend we felt quite big
In our silver-mounted rig.
For Dacre town we hoist our sails,
And they all thought there it was the Prince of Wales.
7
Mills came out to welcome us in:
He handed down his wine and gin.
The landlord's treat went merrily round,
And we drank a health to Dacre town.
8
Dinner being ready, we all took place,
The foreman he of course said grace,
But Johnny Morin thought long to wait,
And Laderoute Joe shoved up his plate.
9
"Be damned," said Morin, "it's good to be first.
The man last served fares oft the worst."
But Pratt himself the truth did own;
The man fared best who got the bone.

Lake Opeongo is in Algonquin Park, 100 miles from Arnprior (west of Ottawa). The trip took place in the 1870s-1880s. A Michigan text has three more verses, naming some of the men. In one version, the Lake becomes 'Michigan-I-O'.

Pp. 162-165, with musical score. Edith Fowke, 1970, "Lumbering Songs from the Northern Woods." Also on a Smithsonian cd, Folkways 4052.

E. c. Beck, 1948, "Songs of the Lumbering Camps," printed the song as "Drunk on the Way."
The last two verses in Beck:

Then after dinner we got ready to go
To that sunken hole called Upyongo.
We arrived at camp feeling so damned sore,
And we all made a promise to drink no more,

We stayed all winter until we got through,
And we started home with the same old crew.
And now we are home and got our pay,
But we think of the time we got drunk on the way.

Subject: Lyr Add: NO, MY BOY, NOT I
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 22 Jan 14 - 02:59 PM

Lyr. Add: NO, MY BOY, NOT I
Sung by O. J. Abbott, Quebec

1
As I roved one evening, as I roved out one day,
I met a handsome lady by chance upon the way.
I says, "My lovely damsel, won't you marry me by and by?"
The answer that she made to me was, "No, my boy, not I."
2
"If I was to marry you, my boy, who'd be to blame?
My friends and my relations would look on me with shame.
You are of a low degree, and I am of so high,
To think that I would marry you- oh, no, my boy, not I."
3
I went to her house another night this fair maid to see,
Before the night was over she grew very fond of me.
I hugged her and I kissed her and I caused her for to sigh,
She soon forgot the time she said, "Oh no, my boy, not I."
4
Six months was past and over, six months was passed and gone.
This beautiful and fair maid began to fret and frown.
She wrote me a letter, "Won't you marry me by and by?"
The answer that I made to her was, "No, my girl, not I."
5
"If I was to marry you, my girl, who'd be to blame?
My friends and my relations would look on me with shame.
You are of a low degree, and I am of so high,
To think that I would marry you- oh no, my girl, not I."
6
"So now my dearest damsel, I'll tell you what to do:
Take the libby lad on your back and paddle your own canoe.
And when the day is over, you may sit down and cry,
And think upon the time you said, "Oh no, my boy, not I."
7
So come all you pretty damsels, a warning take by me:
Don't ever let a shantyboy an inch above your knee.
For if you do he'll ruin you, he'll cause you for too cry,
He'll make you sing that little song, "Rock a baby bye."

A variation of the British ballad, "Oh No, My Love, Not I."

Pp. 194-195, with musical score.
Edith Fowke, 1970, "Lumbering Songs from the Northern Woods."

Subject: Lyr Add: POUPORE'S SHANTY CREW
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 31 Jan 14 - 01:07 PM

Lyr. Add: POUPORE'S SHANTY CREW
Gavin MS., Quebec

1
Come all you jolly shantyboys wherever you may be,
I hope you pay attention and listen unto me.
It is all about Tom Poupore and his jovial shanty crew.
2
On the twenty-eighh of October in 1884
His jovial crew of shantyboys Black River did cross o'er.
Some of them Black River boys, some of them from Sheen,
Some from the Island and more from Nepean.
3
It's when we got together our numbers were not few,
With Westmeath and Chichester boys to finish up the crew.
Tom Poupore is our foreman, I mean to let you know.
He goes ahead: "Come on, my boys, we'll plow through frost and snow."
4
It's when we reached our journey's end our foreman he did say:
"It's stables we have got to build, and that without delay.
We have got to build a blacksmith shop, likewise a shanty, too,
To hold this gang of shantyboys called Poupore's jovial crew."
5
It is now our shanty it is built, and all is going well.
But I must not forget our cook: the truth to you I'll tell,
For cooking in a shanty is a thing can never be excelled,
But some of our boys eat so much they are too fat to see.
6
We have a fine gang of log-makers the timber to lay low,
With good horses and good teamsters to swing it too and fro.
There's Robinson and Boisvert, the main road teams to load,
And old Mr. Gagnon, he's got to sand the road.
7
Robinson he is our lead, I mean to let you know,
And we were bound to follow him, let him drive fast or slow,
And we were bound to follow him, of our numbers they are few,
Still and all we help to form Tom Poupore's jovial crew.
8
The boys they are the lead, of course, they always go ahead.
They're closely followed by the brown drove by a chap called Ned.
Next comes their own teams with logs of every sort,
And Dick White told the teamster that his front chain was too short.
9
The next to come is Tommy Burns, he drives a nice gray spare.
Next comes his cousin Jack with Fox Mag and Red Dan.
Next comes Andrew Poupore with Baldy and Big Nell:
If you'd ask him to take another log he'd tell you to go to hell.
10
It's now cold winter is over and spring is coming on,
And in the course of a few days we will all be going down.
It's when we get to Pembroke we will fill our glasses to the brim
And drink a health to Dick White and Tom Poupore's shanty crew.

Bad poetry, but tells a bit about the work of a shanty crew. "...composed by a gang spending the winter..."

Sung to the tune of "The Lumbering Song," p. 37, musical score.
Pp. 43-44, Edith Fowke, 1970, Lumbering Songs from the Northern Woods, American Folklore Society

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 10 Feb 14 - 11:58 AM

THE FLAT RIVER GIRL/JACK HAGGARTY is well-covered in thread 4591, with two versions from Rickaby, one from Fowke, etc.

The version in the DT is unattributed.

Flat River Haggarty

Rickaby gives musical scores for both Flat River Girl and Jack Haggerty
Pp. 3-10.

Franz Rickaby, 1926, "Ballads and Songs of the Shanty-Boy," Harvard University Press.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 01 Mar 14 - 03:11 PM

Two versions of "The Jam on Geary's Rocks" are in the DT, one from Lomax but "modified," the other a brief version sung by Seeger.

Lyr. Add: GERRY'S ROCKS
A. C. Hannah, Bemidji, Minnesota

1
Come all ye true-born shanty-boys, whoever that ye be,
I would have you pay attention and listen unto me,
Concerning a young shanty-boy so tall, so genteel, and brave,
T'was on a jam on Gerry's Rocks he met a wat'ry grave.
2
It happened on a Sunday morn as you shall quickly hear,
Our logs were piled up mountain high, there being no one to keep them clear.
Our boss, he cried, "Turn out, brave boys Your hearts are void of fear.
We'll break that jam on Gerry's Rocks, and for Agonstown we'll steer."
3
Some of them were willing enough, but others they hung back
'T' was for to work on Sabbath they did not think 't was right.
But six of our brave Canadian boys did volunteer to go
And break the jam on Gerry's Rocks with their foreman, young Monroe.
4
They had not rolled off many logs when the boss to them did say,
"I'd have you be on your guard, brave boys. 'That jam will soon give way."
Bur scarce the warning had he spoke when the jam did break and go,
And it carried away these six brave youths and their foreman, young Monroe.
5
When the rest of the shanty-boys these sad tidings came to hear,
To search for their dead comrades to the river they did steer.
One of these a headless body found, to their sad grief and woe,
Lay cut and mangled on the beach the head of young Monroe.
6
They took him from the water and smoothed down his raven hair.
There was one fair form amongst them, her cries would rend the air.
There was one fair form amongst them, a maid from Saginaw town.
Her sighs and cries would rend the skies for her lover that was drowned.
7
They buried him quite decently, being on the seventy of May,
Come all the rest of you shanty-boys, for your dead comrade pray.
'T' is engraved on a little hemlock tree that at his head doth grow,
The name, the date, and the drowning of this hero, young Monroe.
8
Miss Clara was a noble girl, likewise the raftsman's friend.
Her mother was a widow woman lived at the river's bend.
The wages of her own true love the boss to her did pay,
And a liberal subscription she received from the shanty-boys next day.
9
Miss Clara did not long survive her great misery and grief,
In less than three months afterwards death came to her relief.
In less than three months afterwards she was called to go,
And her last request was granted- to be laid by young Monroe.
10
Come all the rest of ye shanty-men who would like to go and see,
On a little mound by the river's bank there stands a hemlock tree.
The shanty-boys cut the woods all round. These lovers they lie low.
Here lies Miss Clara Dennison and her shanty-boy, Monroe.

Pp. 11-14, 2A, with musical score.
Franz Rickaby, 1926, Ballads and Songs of the Shanty-Boy, Harvard University Press.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 01 Mar 14 - 03:27 PM

Jim Whalen from Rickaby is posted in thread 103995, "DT Study, Lost Jimmie Whalen (Whelan).
DT Study Lost Jimmie Whelan

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: raredance
Date: 01 Mar 14 - 11:34 PM

The same 10 stanzas of "The Jam On Gerry's Rock" are printed in Folksongs Out of Wisconsin, 1977, Harry Peters, ed. The lyrics are credited as being sun g by Emery De Noyer of Rhinelande WI, Dan Grant of Bryant, WI and Bert Taplin of Wautoma WI. Collected in 1941.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: mg
Date: 02 Mar 14 - 12:40 AM

Check out he bsdger drive from newfoundland.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 02 Mar 14 - 12:44 PM

"The Banks of the Little Eau Pleine," Rickaby text A, sung by Wm. N. Allen, is posted in thread 45123, by raredance. It is a full version of an abbreviated one in the DT.
Little Eau Pleine

The song appears under the title "Johnny Murphy," with musical score as sung by John Leahy of Ontario, in Edith Fowke, "Lumbering Songs from the Northern Woods." The Wisconsin River becomes the West Constant. The Eau Pleine is a tributary of the Wisconsin River, near Stevens Point. Fowke notes that all versions stem from the original by Allen ("Shan T. Boy").

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 02 Mar 14 - 05:30 PM

another excellent contribution to scholarship from Q!

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Joe_F
Date: 02 Mar 14 - 08:14 PM

Silver Jack

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 03 Mar 14 - 12:41 PM

Roland Palmer Gray, 1925, Songs and Ballads of the Maine Lumberjacks with Other Songs from Maine is available as an ebook for about US$10 (see Abebooks or other for sources.
According to Rickaby, Gray mentions a song called "Shanty Boy," "which originated about 1847 in Michigan, the first and final stanzas:

Come boys, if you will listen, I'll sing to you a song,
It's all about the pinery boys and how they get along;
A set of jovial fellows, so merry and so fine,
They spend a jovial winter in cutting down the pine.
------
So now my song is ended, you'll find these words are true,
But if you doubt one word of this, just ask Jin Lockwell's crew.
'T' was in Jim Lockwell's shanty this song was sung with glee,
And that's the end of The Shanty Boy, and it was composed by three.

Anyone who has Gray's book or the e version, feel free to post songs from it.

The reference to "Shanty Boy" is in note to 14. "Jim Porter's Shanty Song" in Rickaby. This and several others including the one in Gray are similar in content, usually with a verse at the end celebrating a particular crew.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 03 Mar 14 - 01:10 PM

Lyr. Add: JIM PORTER'S SHANTY SONG
J. S. Murphy, North Dakota

1
Come all ye jolly good shanty-boys, come listen to me song,
For it's all about the shanties and the way they get along.
For a jollier crew of fellows never can you find
Than those real good old shanty-boys a-cutting down the pine.
2
The choppers and the sawyers they lay the timber low,
The skidders and the swampers they holler to and fro.
Next comes the sassy loaders before the break of day,
"Come, load up your teams, me boys!" And to the woods they sway.
3
For the broken ice is floating, and our business is to try.
Three hundred able-bodied men are wanted on the drive.
With cant-hooks and with jam-pikes these noble men do go
And risk their sweet lives on some running stream, you know.
4
On a cold and frosty morning they shiver with the cold.
The ice upon their jam-pikes, which they can scarcely hold.
The axe and saw does loudly sing unto the sun goes down.
Hurrah, my boys! For the day is spent. For the shanty we are bound.
5
Arriving at the shanty with cold and with wet feet,
Pull off your boots, me boys, for supper you must eat.
Then supper being ready, to supper we must go,
For it's not the style of one of us to lose our hash, you know.
6
Then supper being over, to the apartments we must go.
We'll all load up our pipes and smoke till all is blue,
To nine o'clock or thereabout. Our bunks we then do climb.
-------
7
At four o'clock in the morning, our foreman he will say,
"Come, roll out, ye teamsters! It's just the break of day."
The teamsters they get up, and their things they cannot find.
They'll blame it on the swampers, and they'll curse them till they're blind.
8
But as springtime rolls on, how happy we will be,
Some of us arriving home, and others far away.
It takes farmers and sailors, likewise merchants too,-
It takes all sorts of tradesmen to make up a shanty crew.
9
So now my song is ended. Those words they say are true.
But if you doubt a word of it, go ask Jim Porter's crew.
For it was in Jim Porter's shanty this song was sung with glee.
So that's the end of me shanty song. It was composed by me.

14A, pp. 68-71, with musical score. See note in previous post.

Franz Rickaby, 1926, Ballads and Songs of the Shanty-Boy, Harvard University Press.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 04 Mar 14 - 07:37 PM

Lyr. Add: JIMMIE WHALEN'S GIRL
Sung by Tom Dunn

1
Onward I strayed by the banks of a river,
Viewing the sunbeams as evening drew nigh.
As onward I rambled I spied a fair maiden
Weeping and wailing with many a sigh.

Chorus-
Weeping for one that is now lying lonely,
Weeping for one that no earthly one could save,
For the dark rolling waters went madly around him,
And the grass now grows green over poor Jimmie's grave.

2
"Jimmie," she cried, "won't you come to my arms?"
"Jimmie, she cried, "won't you come from your grave?"
You promised this evening to meet me, my darling,
But Death's cruel angels have stole you away."
3
Slowly there rose from the depths of the water
A vision of beauty as bright as the sun.
Bows of sweet crimson, they shone bright around them,
And to this fair maiden to speak he began.
4
"Why have you called me from realms of glory
Back to this world I soon had to leave?
To see you again I've come to you, darling;
I came back to you from my cold silent grave.
5
"Cold was the fight on the cold Mississippi;
The water encircled me on every side;
Thinking of you I encountered it bravely,
Hoping in vain that you'd be my bride."
6
"Oh, Jimmie, " she cried, "won't you linger here with me?
Do not desert me in grief for to rave.
Take me, oh, take me along with you , darling;
I'll lie down beside you in your cold silent grave."

A companion to "Jimmie Whalen."
No. 79, pp. 229-230; no musical score.
E. C. Beck, 1948, Lore of the Lumber Camps, University of Michigan Press.

Rickaby published a fragment collected in Michigan.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 10 Apr 14 - 11:38 AM

"Silver Jack" was linked by Joe F.
The song is reprinted in Rickaby, "Ballads and Songs of the Shanty-Boy," where Rickaby notes that Lomax received another version, from Bay City, Texas, sung by canal diggers.
Rickaby also notes that the song was discussed in Pound, "Poetic Origins and the Ballad," p. 229 (not seen), with conjectures as to the authorship.
Silver Jack was John Driscoll, of Ontario. He was a well-known fighter in the lumbering area. A song about Silver Jack is "Lumberjack's Revival", several versions of which are noted by Beck in "Lore of the Lumber Camps."

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 10 Apr 14 - 12:13 PM

Lyr. Add: LUMBERJACK'S REVIVAL
(Silver Jack, the Evangelist)
Tune- My Darling Clementine

I was in the drive in 'eighty,
Working under Silver Jack,
Which the same is now in Jackson
And ain't soon expected back.
2
There was a chump among us
By the name of Robert Waite,
Kind of slick and cute and tonguey,
Guess he was a graduate.
3
He could gab on any subject
From the Bible down to Hoyle,
And his words flowed out so easy,
Just as smooth and slick as oil.
4
He was what they called a skeptic,
And he loved to sit and weave
Highfalutin' stories
Telling what he didn't believe.
5
One day while we were waitin'
For the flood to clear the ground,
We all sat smoking niggerhead
And hearing Bob expound.
6
"Hell," he said, "is all a humbug"
And he showed as clear as day
That the Bible was a fable;
And we 'lowed it looked that way.
7
Miracles and suchlike
Was too thin for him to stand;
And for Him they called the Savior,
Why, he's just a common man.
8
"You're a liar," someone shouted,
"And you got to take it back!"
Then everybody started:
'Twas the voice of Silver Jack.
9
He chucked his fists together,
And he shucked his coat and cried,
"Twas by that there religion
That my mother lived and died.
10
"And although I ain't always
Used the Lord exactly right,
When I hear a chump abuse him,
He must eat his words or fight."
11
Now this Bob he weren't no coward,
And he answered bold and free,
"Stack your duds and cut your capers,
For there ain't no flies on me."
12
They fought for forty minutes,
And the lads would hoot and cheer
When Jack spit out a tooth or two
Or Bobby lost an ear.
13
But Jack kept on reasonin' with him
Till the cuss began to yell,
And Bob 'lowed he'd been mistaken
In his views concerning Hell.
14
Then Jack he got Bob under
And he slugged him onc't ot twic't,
And Bob confessed almighty quick
The divinity of Christ.
15
So the fierce discussion ended,
And they rose up from the ground.
Someone brought a bottle out
And kindly passed it round.
16
And they drank to Jack's religion
In a quiet sort of way,
And the spread of infidelity
Was checked in camp that day.

As sung by Edward Loud of Oscola.
Song also known as "Religion in Camp."

Pages 70-73.
E. C. Beck, 1948, "Lore of the Lumber Camps," University of Michigan Press.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Bat Goddess
Date: 10 Apr 14 - 03:59 PM

I've been meaning to learn "On the Banks of the Little Eau Pleine" since I heard Judy Cook sing it. The Eau Pleine River is also in the area of Wisconsin (north central) my father's family settled in the 1840s-1870s.

I should add more lumber camp songs to my repertoire as well because both of my grandfathers worked in the woods, one as cook.

Linn

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 12 Apr 14 - 02:27 PM

Lyr. Add: THE MERRY SHANTY BOYS
Broadside
1
We are a band of shanty boys,
A merry as can be;
No matter where we go, my boys,
We're always gay and free;
Blow high or low, no fear we know,
To the woods we're bound to go,
Our axes swing, the woods do ring
With shanty men, heighho!

Chorus-
Blow high or low, no fear we know,
To the woods we're bound to go,
Our axes swing, the words do ring
With shanty men, heighho!

2
At break of day the boss doth say:
Hurrah, to the woods, away!
Those teams hitch up- get to the dump,
The rollers are away!
The choppers are all gone, hurrah!
Come, boys, do not delay-
Then whips do crack on every track
The teamsters are away.
3
And when our day's work, we have done,
Home to the shanty come-
Each gang will boast who's done the most,
The clerk our work doth sum;
Then clean and neat we take our seats,
And for our supper go-
Beef, pork and beans, eat all we please,
Bread, pie, molasses, oh!
4
When lined within, we then begin
Our axes to grind thin;
Come fiddler gay, do not delay
To tune up every string;
'T'is our delight!- yes, every night,
To wrestle, dance, and sing,
Our songs all sung and dancing done,
We roll in, one by one.
5
When spring doth come, we've jolly fun
On the river drive away;
Pull, ahoy! Heave away!
Together, Oh-yeh-oh!
The drive, when through, our lasses true,
We'll meet them all so gay,
And kiss for kiss will be our bliss,
While we with them do stay.
6
Since shanty life is our delight,
Let's all together sing,
Scorehackers, hewers, choppers, sawyers'
Road-cutters join in,
Boss, cook, and clerk, for all your worth,
Now let your voices ring,
Teamsters and all, on you we call,
In chorus now dive in.

Chorus-
Now high or low, no fear we know,
To the woods we're bound to go,
Our axes swing, the woods do ring,
With shanty men, heighho!

Much romanticized version of the shanty man's work, issued in a nineteenth C. broadside by H. J. Wehman, New York, No. 990.
Amusing image of shanty boys by a versifier with no direct experience of a lumber camp.
Something "no shanty man would actually sing" (Traditional Ballad Index).

Text from Prof. Kittredge. franz Rickaby, 1926, Ballads and Songs of the Shanty-Boy, Harvard University Press.

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Logging and Shantyman Songs
From: Q (Frank Staplin)
Date: 15 Apr 14 - 04:12 PM

Lyr. Add: JUST A POOR LUMBERJACK
Recited by Jerry Archambeault, St. Louis, Michigan

1
One night when walking down the street
In the city of Detroit
I came upon a party
Where stood some well-dressed youths.
They were making fun of a drunken man,
Who staggered along looking neither right or left
And not doing anything wrong.
Out stepped a rookie, handsome, well-dressed,
And without a word of warning
Gave the poor drunken man a push
And sent him into the gutter
That was filled with mud and slush.
He lay there groaning loudly
With a badly broken arm
Until a stranger came that way
And sounded the alarm.

Chorus:
"'Twas only a poor old lumberjack,
So the rookie said,
"For coming into my way tonight
I ought to have broke his head."
But the stranger quickly murmured,
"If you make another crack,
I'll knock you where you knocked just now
That poor old lumberjack."

2
One day there was a fire
In a lodginghouse nearby,
From an upper story window
There came a piercing cry.
"Oh, save me!" cried a woman's voice,
And quickly up the stairs
A man sprang out from the crowd
And bravely he declares,
"I'll save you, lady, if you wait!
You must not jump or fall!"
And in just half a moment
He came staggering through the hall
With the fainting woman in his arms.
The street he quickly found,
And from inhaling fire and smoke
He fell lifeless to the ground.

Chorus:
"'Twas only a poor old lumberjack,"
So the crowd said,
"'Twas only a poor old lumberjack
Lying there, now dead."
You can pity him and pray for him,
But you cannot bring him back:
He gave his life to save one,
This poor old lumberjack.

3
Up in the woods in the wintertime,
In the far, far frozen north,
Felling trees from day to day
Is where he shows his worth.
Shut out from civilization
The whole cold winter long
He goes to work at early morn
Singing his merry song.
One day there was an accident:
A man had lost his life.
No one knew where he belonged,
Or if he had a wife.
They put him underneath the ground:
On a rough board they wrote MACK,
For that was the name they knew him by,
This poor old lumberjack.

Chorus:
"'Twas only a poor old lumberjack,"
So the others said,
"'Twas only a poor old lumberjack
Lying there now dead."
Perhaps some poor old mother
Hopes that he'll come back;
She's praying every night and morning
For her poor old lumberjack.

Pp. 313-315.
E. C. Beck, 1948, "Lore of the Lumber Camps," University of Michigan Press.