Tune Req: 'Ballad for a Boy'

Subject: Tune Req: 'Ballad for a Boy'
From: H. Jenkins
Date: 01 Jul 06 - 09:30 PM

Ballad for a Boy

When George the Third was reigning a hundred years ago,
He ordered Captain Farmer to chase the foreign foe.
"You're not afraid of shot," said he, "you're not afraid of wreck,
So cruise about the west of France in the frigate called Quebec.

"Quebec was once a Frenchman's town, but twenty years ago,
King George the Second sent a man called General Wolfe, you know,
To clamber up a precipice and look into Quebec,
As you'd look down a hatchway while standing on the deck.

"If Wolfe could beat the Frenchmen then so you can beat them now.
Before he got inside the town he died, I must allow.
But since the town was won for us it is a lucky name,
And you'll remember Wolfe's good work, and you shall do the same."

Then Farmer said "I'll try, sir," and Famer bowed so low
That George could see his pigtail tied in a velvet bow.
George gave him his commission, and that it might be safer,
Signed "King of Britain, King of France," and sealed it with a wafer.

Then proud was Captain Farmer in a frigate of his own,
And grander on his quarter-deck than George upon the throne.
He'd two guns in his cabin, and on the spar-deck ten,
And twenty on the gun-deck, and more than ten score men.

And as a huntsman scours the brakes with sixteen brace of dogs,
With two-and-thirty cannon the ship explored the fogs.
From Cape la Hogue to Ushant, from Rochefort to Belleisle,
She hunted game 'till reef and mud were rubbing on her keel.

The fogs are dried, the frigate's side is bright with melting tar,
The lad up on the foretop sees square white sails afar;
The east wind drives three square-sailed masts from out of Breton Bay,
And "Clear for action!" Farmer shouts, and reefers shout "Hooray!"

The Frenchman's captain had a name I wish I could pronounce,
A Breton gentleman was he, and wholly free from bounce,
One like those famous fellows who died by guillotine,
For honour and the fleur-de-lys, and Antoinette the Queen.

The Catholic for Louis, the Protestant for George,
Each captain drew as bright a sword as saintly smiths could forge;
And both were simple seamen, but both could understand,
How each was bound to win or die for flag and native land.

The French ship was la Surveillante, which means the watchful maid;
She folded up her head-dress and began to cannonade.
Her hull was clean, and ours was foul; we had to spread more sail.
On canvas, stays, and topsail yards her bullets cane like hail.

Sore smitten were both Captains, and many lads beside,
And still to cut our rigging the foreign gunners tried.
A sail-clad spar came flapping down atwart a blazing gun;
We could not quench the rushing flames, and so the Frenchman won.

Our quarter-deck was crowded, the waist was all aglow,
Men hung upon the taffrail half scorched, but loath to go;
Our captain sat where once he stood, and would not quit his chair.
He bade his comrades leap for life, and leave him bleeding there.

The guns were hushed on either side, the Frenchmen lowered boats,
They flung us planks and hencoops, and anything that floats.
They risked their lives, good fellows! to bring their rivals aid.
'Twas by the conflagration the peace was strangely made.

La Surveillante was like a sieve; the victors had no rest.
They had to dodge the east wind to reach the port of Brest,
And where the waves lept lower, and the riddled ship went slower,
In triumph, yet in funeral guise, came fishing-boats to tow her.

They dealt with us as brethren, they mourned for Farmer dead;
And as the wounded captives passed each Breton bowed the head.
Then spoke the French Lieutenant, "'Twas fire that won, not we.
You never struck your flag to us; you'll go to England free."

'Twas the sixth day of October, seventeen hundred seventy-nine,
A year when nations ventured against us to combine,
Quebec was burnt and Farmer slain, by us remembered not;
But thanks be to the French book wherein they're not forgot.

And you, if you've to fight the French, my youngster, bear in mind
Those seamen of King Louis so chivalrous and kind;
Think of the Breton gentlemen who took our lads to Brest,
And treat some rescued Breton as a comrade and a guest.

---

This ballad was written by William Cory, probably best known for his translation/poem "Heraclitus".

I do not know if it ever had a melody. Does anyone know of any melodies to which it has been sung? Suggestions of melodies to which it might go well would also be welcome (as would historical information).

Chronology;
According to tho only source I've found online (Marie L. Shedlock), Ballad for a Boy was written in 1905 (my text source-book thinks it too recent to bother dating). This doesn't quite fit the chronology in the poem; one hundred and twenty years previously comes to 1785, and George the second reigned 1727-1760. One hundred years after 1779 is also not near 1905. It may be that "one hundred years ago" refers to the reign of George the Third, which ended in 1820, not to the specific event in his reign. If so, a vague "two hundred years ago" would bring the song in line with the current date.

Geography;
Rochefort is halfway down the west coast of France, on the Bay of Biscay, Just south of La Rochelle. Brest is the main harbour of Finisterre, in the extreme north-west corner of France. The island of Ushant (usually called Île D'Ouessant) lies just west of Brest. Belleisle (Belle Île) is very roughly midway between Brest and Rochefort. Cape la Hogue is, I, think, Cap de la Haugue, the first major northward promenatory east of Finnisterre, just east of the Channel Islands and Mont St. Michel.

I have typed it up faithfully from the Book of British Ballads (Everyman's Library #572, edited by R. Brimley Johnson, 1912, 1939 reprint, published by The Temple Press Letchworth), with one amendment ("'till" for "till" in the sixth verse). The Anglicization of Québec is original, not mine.

I am assuming that this is is public domain; if I am mistaken, please correct me.