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03 Jul 03 - 09:14 PM (#976327) Subject: Tune Req: Anne Bailey Folksong? From: Walking Eagle Do any of you 'catters know of any folksongs about Anne Bailey? She was a legendary frontierswoman in VA ( now WV ) and Ohio around the Revolutionary War time period. Just asking. |
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04 Jul 03 - 01:18 AM (#976416) Subject: RE: Tune Req: Anne Bailey Folksong? From: Padre Found this info on her: The story of Anne Bailey's life is interwoven with local folklore, but her place as a pioneer heroine is unquestioned. In 1791 what is today West Virginia was largely unsettled wilderness in the middle of a frontier war between would-be settlers and local Indian tribes. When Fort Lee was threatened with attack and a low supply of ammunition, Anne Bailey, scout and messenger, rode alone through 100 miles of near wilderness to Fort Savannah at Lewisburg and returned with the needed powder to save the fort at Clendenin's Settlement which today is Charleston, West Virginia. This feat was commemorated in a lengthy 1861 poem, "Anne Bailey's Ride" by Charles Robb. Named for Anne are an elementary school in St. Albans, WV, near Charleston, a chapter of the N.S.D.A.R. and a lookout tower in Watoga State Park. Her remains were moved from Ohio, where she died in 1825, to the Point Pleasant Battle Monument State Park where the museum contains memorabilia of Anne including a design made from her hair. Born Anne Hennis in Liverpool, England, probably in 1742, she came to the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia when she was about 19 and in 1765 married Richard Trotter, a local settler. When Lord Dunmore called for militia to fight the Indians of the western border in 1774, Richard Trotter enlisted, but was killed on Oct. 10, 1774 at the Battle of Point Pleasant against the forces of Shawnee leader, Cornstalk. This event changed Anne's life completely and she left her son, William Trotter, to the care of others and became a skilled frontier scout, horsewoman, hunter, messenger and storyteller, wearing buckskins, carrying hatchet, knife and long rifle. She married again in 1785 to John Bailey, another frontiersman and army ranger, those forerunners of today's special forces. They moved to Clendenin's Settlement in the Great Kanawha Valley where she would make her famous ride. Her career continued until 1795 and the signing of the Greenville Treaty to end the Indians Wars. After John Bailey's death about 1802 she made her home with her son but also traveled among her friends and was a welcome storyteller and trader. In 1817 William moved his family across to Gallia County, Ohio, and Anne reluctantly left her beloved "Virginia" to make a home near him, though she traveled still. She died on November 22, 1825 of "old age." |
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06 Jul 03 - 07:19 PM (#977984) Subject: RE: Tune Req: Anne Bailey Folksong? From: Walking Eagle Thanks Padre. I've read quite a bit about her and I found the Charles Robb poem that could be set to music and used as a ballad, but I was just wondering if anyone knows of a song that might already exist. Our Girl Scout camp was named Ann Bailey, but we were not taught why. 'Catters? |
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07 Jul 03 - 02:30 PM (#978455) Subject: RE: Tune Req: Anne Bailey Folksong? From: Walking Eagle Can ANYONE help? |
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07 Jul 03 - 05:40 PM (#978564) Subject: RE: Tune Req: Anne Bailey Folksong? From: GUEST,Q No luck looking for a folksong. The Robb poem has a rarely used word- "With heavy tramp the charger trode,..." |
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13 Jan 04 - 01:51 AM (#1091735) Subject: RE: Tune Req: Anne Bailey Folksong? From: Walking Eagle I'm re-posting this hoping that some of the new folks might know of something. If not, I guess I'll go ahead and write a song. W.E. |
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13 Jan 04 - 02:22 PM (#1092028) Subject: Anne Bailey's Ride (recitation) From: Joe Offer I can't tell for sure if this is the 1861 Charles Robb poem, but I suppose it is. Can anybody verify? The stanza breaks in my source seemed weird, so I guessed and fixed as well as I could. -Joe Offer- Anne Bailey's Ride: A Legend of the Kanawha The Army at Gauley Bridge, At Mountain Cove and Sewell Ridge: Our tents were pitched on hill and dell From Charleston Height to Cross Lane fell; Our camp-fires blazed on every route, From Red House point to Camp Lookout; On every rock our sentries stood, Our scouts held post in every wood, And every path was stained with blood From Scary creek to Gauley flood. 'Twas on a bleak autumnal day, When not a single sunbeam's ray Could struggle through the dripping skies To cheer our melancholy eyes- Whilst heavy clouds, like funeral palls, Hung o'er Kanawha's foaming falls And shrouded all the mountain green With dark, foreboding, misty screen. All through the weary livelong day Our troops had marched the mountain way; and in the gloomy eventide Had pitched their tents by the river's side; And as the darkness settled o'er The hill and vale and river shore, We gathered round the camp-fire bright, That threw its glare on the misty night; And each some tale or legend told To while away the rain and cold. Thus, one a tale of horror told That made the very blood run cold; One spoke of suff'ring and of wrong; Another sang a mountain song; One spoke of home, and happy years, Till down his swarthy cheeks the tears Slow dripping, glistened in the light That glared upon the misty night; While others sat in silence deep, Too sad for mirth, yet scorned to weep. Then spake a hardy mountaineer (His beard was long, his eye was clear: And Clear his voice, of metal tone, Just such as all would wish to own)- "I've heard a legend old," he said, "Of one who used these paths to tread Long years ago, when fearful strife Sad havoc made of human life; A deed of daring bravely done, A feat of honor nobly won; And what in story's most uncommon, An army saved by a gentle woman. "'Twas in that dark and bloody time (1791) When savage craft and tory crime From Northern lake to Southern flood, Had drenched the western world with blood. And in this wild, romantic glen Encamped a host of savage men, Whose mad'ning war-whoop, loud and high, Was answered by the panther's cry. "The pale-faced settlers all had fled, Or murdered were in lonely bed; Whilst hut and cabin, blazing high, With crimson decked the midnight sky. "I said the settlers all had fled- Their pathway down the valley led To where the Elk's bright crystal waves On dark Kanawha's bosom laves, There safety sought, and respite brief, And in Fort Charleston found relief; Awhile they bravely met their woes, And kept at bay their savage foes. 'Thus days and weeks the warfare waged, In fury still the conflict raged; Still fierce and bitter grew the strife Where every foeman fought for life. Thus day by day the siege went on, Trll three long, weary weeks were gone; And then the mournful word was passed That every day might be their last; The word was whispered soft and slow, The magazine was getting low. They loaded their rifles one by one, And then-the powder all was gone! They stood like men in calm despair, No friendly aid could reach them there; Their doom was sealed, the scalping knife And burning stake must end the strife. One forlorn hope alone remained, That distant aid might yet be gained If trusty messenger should go Through forest wild, and savage foe, And safely there should bear report, And succor bring from distant Fort. But who should go-the venture dare? The woodsmen quailed in mute despair, In vain the call to volunteer; The bravest blenched with silent fear. Each gloomy brow and labored breath, Proclaimed the venture worse than death. Not long the fatal fact was kept; But through the Fort the secret crept Until it reached the ladies' hall, There like a thunderbolt to fall. Each in terror stood amazed, And silent on the other gazed; No word escaped-there fell no tear- But all was hushed in mortal fear; All hope of life at once had fled, And filled each soul with nameless dread. But one (Anne Bailey) who stood amid the rest, The bravest, fairest, and the best Of all that graced the cabin halI, First broke the spell of terror's thrall. Her step was firm, her features fine, Of Mortal mould the most divine; But why describe her graces fair, Her form her mien, her stately air? Nay hold! my pen, I will not dare! 'Twas Heaven's image mirrored there. She spoke no word, of fear or boast, But smiling, passed the sentry post; And half in hope, and half in fear, She whispered in her husband's ear, The sacrifice her soul would make Her friends to save from brand and stake. A noble charger standing nigh, Of spirit fine, and metal high, Was saddled well, and girted strong, With cord, and loop, and leathem thong, For her was led in haste from stall, Upon whose life depended all. Her friends she gave a parting brief, No time was there for idle grief; Her husband's hand a moment wrung, then lightly to the saddle sprung; And followed by the prayers and tears, The kindling hopes, and boding fears Of those who seemed the sport of fate, She dashed beyond the op'ning gate; Like a birdling free, on pinion light, Commenced her long and weary flight. "The foeman saw the op'ning gate, And thought with victory elate To rush within the portal rude, And in his dark and savage mood To end the sanguinary strife With tomahawk and scalping-knife. But lo! a lady! fair and bright, And seated on a charger light, Bold-and free--as one immortal- Bounded o'er the op'ning portal. Each savage paused in mute surprise, And gazed with wonder-staring eyes; 'A squaw! a squaw! the chieftain cries, ('A squaw! a squaw!' the host replies;)' Then order gave to 'cross the lawn With lightening speed and catch the fawn.' Her pathway up the valley led, Like frightened deer the charger fled, And urged along by whip and rein, The quick pursuit was all in vain, A hundred bended bows were sprung, A thousand savage echoes rung But far too short the arrows fell All harmless in the mountain dell; 'To horse! to horse!' the chieftain cried, They mount in haste and madly ride. Along the rough, uneven way, The pathway of the lady lay; Whilst long and loud the savage yell Re-echoed through the mountain fell. She heeded not the danger rife, But rode as one who rides for life; Still onward in her course she bore Along the dark Kanawha's shore, Through tangled wood and rocky way, Nor paused to rest at close of day. Like skimming cloud before the wind Soon left the rabble far behind. From bended tree above the road The flying charger wildly trode. Amid the evening's gath'ring gloom, The panther's shriek, the voice of doom In terror fell upon the ear, And quickened every pulse with fear. But e'en the subtle panther's bound, To reach his aim too slow was found; And headlong falling on the rock, Lay crushed and mangled in the shock. The prowling wolf then scents his prey, And rushing on with angry bay, With savage growl and quickening bound He clears the rough and rugged ground; And closing fast the lessening space That all too soon must end the race, With sharpened teeth that glittered white As stars amid the gloomy night- With foaming jaws had almost grasped The lovely hand that firmly clasped, And well had used the whip and rein, But further effort now were vain; Another bound-a movement more- And then the struggle all were o'er. 'Twas in a steep and rocky gorge Along the river's winding verge, Just where the foaming torrent falls Far down through adamantine halls. And then comes circling round and round, As loath to leave the enchanted ground. Just there a band of wand'rmg braves Had pitched their tents beside the waves. The sun long since had sunk to rest, And long the light had faded west- When all were startled by the sound Of howling wolf and courser's bound, That onward came, with fearful clang, Whose echoes round the mountain rang; The frightened wolf in wild surprise A moment paused-with glaring eyes In terror gazed upon the flame, Then backward fled the way he came. Each wondering savage saw with fear The charger come like frightened deer; With weary gait, and heavy tramp, The foaming steed dashed through the camp And onward up the valley bear His queenly rider, brave and fair. Still on, and on, through pathless wood- They swim the Gauley's swollen flood, And climb Mount Tompkins' lofty brow, More wild and rugged far than now, Still onward held their weary flight Beyond the Hawk's Nest's Giddy Height; And often chased through lonely glen By savage beast or savage men- Thus like some weary, hunted dove The woman sped through 'Mountain Cove,' The torrent crossed without a bridge, And scaled the heights of Sewell Ridge, And still the wild, beleaguered road With heavy tramp the charger trode, Nor paused amid his weary flight Throughout the long and dreary night. And bravely rode the woman there, Where few would venture, few would dare Amid the cheering light of day To tread the wild beleaguered way; And as the morning sunbeams fall O'er hill and dale, and sylvan hall, Far in the distance, dim and blue, The friendly Fort (Lewisburg) arose to view, Whose portal soon the maiden gains With slackened speed and loosened reins And voice whose trembling accents tell, Of journey ridden long and well. "The succor thus so nobly sought, To Charleston Fort was timely brought; Whilst Justice, on the scroll of fame, In letters bold, engraved her name." Source: Virgil A. Lewis, Life and limes of Anne Bailey, the Pioneer Heroine of the Great Kanawha Valley (Charleston, WV: The Butler Printing Company, 1891), as reproduced in West Virginia History 17 (October, 1955): 80-85. Rprinted in Professor Ronald Lewis' book, West Virginia: Documents in the History of a Rural-Industrial State http://www.access.wvu.edu/class/wvhistory/html/doc_unit1.htm This article indicates that the above is the Robb poem - and it also has some interesting information about Anne Bailey. |