Wild Chants with Doggerel Words

#103 Roll the Woodpile Down

2012-03-03T01:40:00.001-08:00

In Shanties from the Seven Seas, Stan Hugill wrote,

This was the sea version of the Negro song Haul the Woodpile Down. It was popular right to the end of sail...it is fairly obvious it originated in either the West Indies or the Southern States of America, most probably in the latter, being, perhaps, one of the many rivermen songs that reached deep-water.

The Black-dialect song of which Hugill speaks appears to have been actually composed by the New York-based lyricist Edward Harrigan and composer David Braham in 1887 for the theatrical show Pete (Franceschina 2003:234). It was evidently intended to represent a work-song. Lyrics ran as follows:

De red cow brushing de old blue fly

Away down in Florida

De white man laugh when de coon go by

Now haul de wood-pile down

De steamboat ready to burn dat pine

Away down in Florida

De grape am ripe on de old black vine

Now haul de wood-pile down.

Den traveling, den traveling

As long as de moon am round

Dat black girl mine on de Georgia line

Now haul de wood-pile down.

De muskrat hide in de old burnt log

De chipmunk laugh at de old house dog

Dars Captain Jim of de old Bob Lee

He drinks more rum den he does hot tea

De old roof leaks and de rain comes thro'

De nig done die if he touch hoodoo

When I grow wear den I lay down

De wench looks sweet in a new clean gown

Here’s a sample of the sheet music.

Over on Mudcat.org, J. Lighter (19 June ’07) posted a reference to a work by W.E. Dexter ("Rope-Lines, Marline-Spikes and Tar," 1938) in which the author claims to have been part of adapting this very song as a chanty in the 1890s.

Popular perhaps it was, but it does not turn up in other writings on chanties that I am aware of. The one other record of a related song, and an excellent one at that, is the recording made of an anonymous sailor of the SF Bay Area in the 1920s by R.W. Gordon. This is available for free on-line at the Library of Congress site. The sailor is singing a one-verse “Haul the Woodpile Down.”

Yankee John with his sea boots on, 

Haul the woodpile down. 

Yankee John with his sea boots on, 

Haul the woodpile down. 

Way down in Florida, Way down in Florida, Way down in Florida, 

Haul the woodpile down.

Unlike Hugill’s capstan or pump chanty, however, this is one for “sweating up”—a short chant, that might not have had m/any more verses.

Hugill himself did hear about it from at least two different informants. A chantyman called “Woodward” was said to have sung it in 1920—or so claimed Hugill’s informant at the Sailor’s Home in London, later on. The informant evidently “could not remember many verses,” however, which means it was not necessarily a familiar song. Hugill’s other informant was an unnamed “West Indian seaman.” The version has a grand chorus, like the theatrical piece.

I would say that most or all renditions sung in Revival context nowadays go back to Hugill’s book. In recent years the song has been very popular. I’ll admit that though it’s a wonderful song, I got sick of hearing it sung from all corners of the campus at Mystic’s Sea Music Festival a couple years back! People seem especially fond of the fermata on “Georgia Liiiiiiiine!,” approaching it with a fat s-l-o-w-d-o-w-n and relishing the harmony like they do in modern interpretations of “Roll, Alabama, Roll.”

Traveling, as long as de moon am round,

Ranzo :{

#102 Roll, Alabama, Roll

2012-03-02T02:06:00.003-08:00

I noted in my last post how “Roll the Cotton Down,” though it is reasonably common in the historical record of chanty-singing, seems not so commonly sung in the Revival. I speculated the reason was due to recent audiences’ lack of interest in the type of lyrics it has. By contrast, “Roll, Alabama, Roll,” though a similar and possibly related chanty, was not widely attested, and yet is sung more often now. I would guess it is because of the narrative (ballad-like) quality of its lyrics, and their more neutral connotations for modern audiences. Yet “Roll Alabama” is also more limited, since its lyrics would seem to always have to be about the story it tells, whereas “Roll the Cotton” can be fitted with any lyric.

“Roll, Alabama, Roll” is about the celebrated Confederate ship Alabama. She was built by the Laird company in Birkenhead (across from Liverpool), England and sailed under Captain Semmes. Her successful career came to an end off Cherbourg, France in 1864, where she was defeated by the Union’s Kearsarge, under Captain Winslow.

A book review from 1903 seems to be the first to mention the song, by name (The Anthenaeum, no. 3929, 14 Feb. 1903).

Joanna Colcord (1924) collected a fragment of the song from her sea captain father:

When the Alabama's keel was laid, 

Roll, Alabama, Roll! 

They laid her keel at Birkenhead, 

Oh, roll, Alabama, roll!  

Oh, she was built in Birkenhead, 

Built in the yard of Jonathan Laird, 

Away down the Mersey she rolled one day, 

And across the "Western" she ploughed her way.

Doerflinger (1951) next went on to supply a version, collected from Dick Maitland. Maitland had learned it aboard the schoolship Mercury ca. 1870/71, and said it was sung at both halyards and pumps.

In eighteen hundred and sixty-one,

Roll Alabama, roll!

The Alabama's keel was laid,

And roll, Alabama, roll!

Twas laid in the yard of Jonathan Laird

At the town of Birkenhead

At first she was called the 'Two Ninety two'

For the merchants of the city of Liverpool

Put up the money to build the ship,

In the hopes of driving the commerce from the sea.

Down the Mersey she sailed one day

To the port of Fayal in the Western Isles.

There she refitted with men and guns,

and sailed across the Western Sea,

With orders to sink, burn and destroy

all ships belonging to the North.

Till one day in the harbor of Cherbourg she laid,

And the little Kearsarge was waiting there.

And the Kearsarge with Winslow was waiting there,

And Winslow challenged them to fight at sea.

Outside the three mile limit they fought (repeat)

Till a shot from the forward pivot that day

Took the Alabama's steering gear away

And at the Kearsarge's mercy she lay

And Semmes escaped on a British yacht.

The only other mention I know of is Stan Hugill’s in Shanties from the Seven Seas (1961). Perhaps suggesting that he had never sung it himself at sea, he says that he got his version in 1925 from an old Kiwi woman who claimed to be the wife of a crewmember of the Alabama.

Revival renditions, for example this one by the X Seamen's Institute in 1973, tend to have a set of lyrics which appears to have some common source, though it is none of the versions in print that I have listed. I would guess that it is a personal set of lyrics that a Revival artist worked up, and which was subsequently copied. My theory is that it happened as follows. Hermes Nye recorded an album of Ballads of the Civil War for Folkways in 1954. Nye’s version of “Roll, Alabama, Roll” includes the now-familiar lyrics. But where would they have come from? Did Nye have some special access to a traditional singer’s version if the chanty, which had not appeared in the sources we know? Unlikely. If one compares these lyrics to those in Doerflinger’s recent (1951) book, one can see how they might have been worked up as a more elegant and fully rhyming adaptation of Dick Maitland’s rather incidental version. Indeed, the album also included, for some reason, a rendition of the chanty “Santa Anna.” And whose version of that song was it? Dick Maitland’s. Nye’s recording can be sampled here.

Nye’s is also the melody used for most Revival renditions. I have only heard the melody from Hugill’s text on a recording by The Critic's Group (Ewan MacColl and company), on As We Were A-sailing (1970), though they used the lyrics from Nye.

For some reason, perhaps in imitation of one rendition at a later point, the now “standard” Revival versions tend to sing the song in a rubato style, with a fast patter on the solo and lethargic refrains. I don’t know what that’s all about, but it makes little sense that this and not other halyard chanties should be sung that way. Peter Bellamy and Louis Killen’s recording of 1971, on Won’t You Go My Way?, is the earliest I have heard with this feature. I am guessing they may have popularized it.

I visited Mobile, Alabama a few years back, where I went to the maritime museum there. There was a little display/exhibit on the Alabama—kind of irrelevant, because the war ship never visited the U.S. South! What’s more, there was a button you could push and hear a recording of this chanty!

Ranzo :{

#93-101 Roll the Cotton Down (Series)

2012-02-23T00:26:00.001-08:00

What a great and, I think, “classic” sounding chanty this is, but I have not observed it to be popular in the revival era. It’s in “the books.” Yet only the Germans seem to sing a version regularly! My wild guess as to why it is not more popular: its evocation of the Antebellum South, which has vague connotations, for some modern Americans, of plantation slavery. Perhaps it sounds a bit too minstrel-y, too much Stephen Fosterish nostalgia. But this was the case with many of the chanties. Chanties, after all, seem to have been born out of work with cotton in the deep South, and sung in a time when these types of lyrics were in the air. They couldn’t all be about jib sheets and spankers and Valparaiso.

In my current tally, this chanty turns up twice for the 1860s, five times for the ‘70s, four times for the ‘80s, once in the 90s, once in the 1900s, and eight times for an unspecified period before the 1920s. This gives a total of 21 over time.

The 1860s instances are based only on my speculation of what is suggested by J.M. Carpenter’s informants from the 1920s. One of his other informants, David Atkinson, who first shipped in 1872, sang the following:

O have you been in New Orleans!

Roll the cotton down!

O-O-O, rolling cotton day by day

O roll the cotton down!

It’s there I worked on the old levee,

Roll the cotton down!

A-screwing cotton by the day,

O roll the cotton down!

Carpenter published this in a 1938 article, with an accompanying note that such chanties originated among Black stevedores. Perhaps it was this that influenced a similar statement in 1944’s Music of the new world: handbook:

With his gift for rhythmic song, the Negro proved to be an excellent shanty singer. Many shanties were originated by the Negro stevedores who loaded cotton on ships in the Gulf ports. A famous shanty which was taken over by sailors from these Negro stevedores is “Roll the Cotton Down”.

Adding to the data that this chanty was probably at least sung by the 1870s are inclusions by Harlow (1962), Williams (1909), and Stanton H. King (1918). Another 1870s sailor, Dick Maitland (Doerflinger 1951), sang two versions:

Down in Alabama I was born,

Roll the cotton down;

Way down in Alabama I was born,

And I rolled the cotton down.

When I was young and in my prime;

I thought I'd go and join the Line

And as a sailor caught a shine;

I shipped on board of the Black Ball Line;

Now the Black Ball Line is the line for me;

That's when you want to go on a spree

In the Black Ball Line you can cut a big shine;

For there you'll wake at any old time,

Now see the Black baller preparing for sea;

You'll split your side laughing, the sights to see,

There's tinkers and tailors, shoemakers and all,

They're all shanghaied on board the Black Ball

AND

Way down South where I was born

Roll the cotton down;

I worked in the cotton and the corn,

[Oh, roll the cotton down.]

When I was young and in my prime,

I thought I'd go and join the Line,

And for a sailor caught a shine,

I joined on a ship of the Swallowtail Line.

This “Black Ball Line” theme, shared of course with other chanties, makes up Stan Hugill’s Version (D) in Shanties from the Seven Seas. And because “Roll the Cotton Down” had the usual “framework” quality of many chanties, other themes were spliced in wholesale. There is one from “Paddy on the Railway” (Version (E)) and from a “Long Time Ago” (Version (F)). I’ve rendered these as follows:

RW Gordon collected it from “an old Irishman,” perhaps first sailing ca.1870s.

Oh, when last I was in Frisco Town 

Roll the cotton down, 

I never ever will forget 

Oh, roll the cotton down.

A 1951 Library of Congress recording of Capt. Leighton Robinson (?) offers a very typical lyrical version:

Oh, away down South where I was born,

Oh, roll the cotton down,

Away down South where I was born,

Oh, roll the cotton down.

A dollar a day is the white man's pay,

Oh, a dollar a day is the white man's pay,

I thought I heard our old man say.

We're homeward bound to Mobile Bay.

Oh, hoist away that yard and sing.

(The recording is exciting, however, because it’s one of few field recordings with a chorus singing along.)

The first published mention I have comes in Patterson’s “Sailors’ Work Songs,” Good Words 41(28) (June 1900). The author attributes it to capstan and windlass work, by which he may be suggesting the version with a grand chorus. The versions thus far have been halliard ones without such a chorus.

I’ve created the following with the grand chorus, which Hugill gives as an option. His Version (A) has a nostalgic “good old days” (minstrel-y) feel, while Version (B) is more focused on the stevedore’s life. As can been seen in many of the documented versions, these lyrics tend to get blended—which is what I’ve done here:

Masefield was next to publish a version in 1906—a halliard version, with a "Black voice" to it:

Come all you little nigger-boys,  

And roll the cotton down;

O come all you little nigger-boys,  

And roll the cotton down.

AND

Come roll the cotton down, my boys,

Roll the cotton down;

 Come roll the cotton down, my boys,

O roll the cotton down.

A dollar a day is a white man's pay,

Ten dollars a day is a black man's pay,

The white man's pay is rather high,

The black man's pay is rather low,

Around Cape Horn we're bound to go,

So stretch it aft and start a song,

As “Cape Horn” has snuck in here, I present Hugill’s Version (C), which has lyrics of the international deepwater generic sailor type! This incidentally, was one of the earlier recordings I made, with my more nasal voice of the time!

It was Bullen (1914), whose version is probably from the 1870s, who was first to supply a musical score.

Oh I’m bound to Alabama

Ter roll the cotton dow-own

I’m bound ter Alabama

Ter roll the cotton down.

The next version, collected by R.R. Terry (1920), actually gives the same verse as Bullen and a note about African-American influence:

Another source of shanties was undoubtedly negroid. The following well-known shanty is a type with which sailors would necessarily become familiar at cotton seaports :—

ROLL THE COTTON DOWN.

I'm bound to Alabama

Oh roll the cotton down,

I'm bound to Alabama

Oh roll the cotton down.

Colcord (1924) simply had the same!

As commercial recordings go, Stanley Slade evidently made a recording of this for the BBC ca.1942, which I don’t have. I wonder though, what later versions it may have informed.

One of the early folk revival recordings came before Hugill’s publication. This was Paul Clayton and the Foc’sle Singers’ Foc’sle Songs and Shanties (Folkways, 1959). One gets the feeling they may have not actually heard it anywhere, for they sing both refrains on exactly the same pitch—somewhat odd. See here.

As I’d mentioned, the chanty seems to be more popular with German singers now, who have their own versions. One of these is a composition in Low German called “De Runer von Hamborg,” which we can call traditional so far as Hugill claims to have actually sung it in a German barque. It has the variable chorus, “Kööm un Beer for mi!”

Yet another Low German version goes by the name of its opening lyrics,

No den Süden to, dor foort een Shipp,

Verprovianteert mit schlauem Kniff

(“Away to the South there sailed a ship,

Provisioned by a cunning trick”)

The German renditions I have heard usually included the grand chorus, but Hugill, saying they are halyard versions, says that the chorus would not go with them.

The last bit related here is a fragment of a chanty, which Hugill reprinted from Colcord’s collection. This “Lower the Boat Down” is given in one verse without tune, but I followed Hugill in presuming it would be similar to “Roll the Cotton Down.”

Rolling the cotton with Moses,

Ranzo :{

#92 Roll the Old Chariot

2012-02-22T01:31:00.000-08:00

The style of chanty called a “walkaway” or “runaway chorus” or “stamp and go” seems to be well-known these days. I believe this is so due to the writing of Stan Hugill and a few others—because the historical record before them doesn’t say that much about it. And in terms of actually naming songs that were used for this maneouver, the earlier texts (as far as I can remember at least) only name the example of “Drunken Sailor” and, in one instance, “A-Roving.” That is, “Drunken Sailor” is the chanty around which discussion of this chanty form took place.

However, Hugill, in Shanties from the Seven Seas, added a few more to the repertoire of “walkaway” chanties, including the recently discussed “Hieland Laddie.” “Roll the Old Chariot,” according to him, was another.

This, in some form, was a spiritual used by the Salvation Army of the late 19th century. Before that, it is reported to have been an African-American song, but I’m unable to find the details right now. Anyway…

As a chanty, "We'll roll the old chariot along" was referred to once as an “old favourite”—but not until 1903.

The song was collected by Robert W. Gordon in the San Fransisco Bay area ca.1922/3 and, happily, that recording is with us. It can be heard here.

Lyrics:

Roll the old chariot along 

And we'll roll the old chariot along 

And we'll all hang on behind.

If the devil's in the way, We'll roll it over him 

If the devil's in the way, Why we'll roll it over him, 

If the devil's in the way, We'll roll it over him. 

And we'll all hang on behind.

J.M. Carpenter, too, collected it in the 1920s from sailors in the U.K. George Simpson’s (first shipped in 1888) version began,

If the devil's in the way we will roll it over him

And we'll all hang on behind.

Row, row, carry him along

And we'll row, row, carry him along

And we'll row, row, row, carry him along

And we'll all hang on behind.

Doerflinger (1951) collected it from Dick Maitland (first shipped ca.1869/70), Staten Island.

We’ll roll the golden chariot along (x3)

[cho.] And we’ll all hang on behind!

If the devil’s in the road we’ll roll it over him,

As with “Donkey Riding,” this also appeared in The Oxford Song Book II (Wood 1927), as follows:

Roll the old chariot along (x3)

And we’ll all hang on behind

A plate of hot scouse wouldn’t do us any harm (x2)

It would roll, roll, roll the old chariot along

A new plum duff wouldn’t do us any harm,

A glass of whiskey hot wouldn’t do us any harm, [etc.]

It may not be a coincidence that the melodic shape and the lyrical form resemble “Drunken Sailor.” In my rendition, I include both Hugill’s major mode melody and the minor mode melody given elsewhere.

Hanging on behind,

Ranzo :{

#88 Donkey Riding

2012-02-20T23:03:00.000-08:00

A donkey engine does its work without a chorus…

(W. Clark Russell, The Romance of Jenny Harlowe, 1889)

This chanty is essentially a variation of “Hieland Laddie” that has obtained its own identity, I think, in the modern era. Very little historical info exists about it.

The “donkey” is understood to refer to a “donkey engine” or steam donkey, which was a steam-powered winch that came into use aboard some ships (according to my brief research) by the late 1850s. Such was one of the devices that took the “manual” out of labor and, eventually, would be said to spell the end of chanties. “Riding on a donkey” is interpreted as letting the donkey engine do the work, and as such seems to have been a humorous parody. Perhaps sailors, working the old fashioned way, wished they could be “riding on a donkey”!

F.P. Harlow, an American sailor of the 1870s, mentions “Riding on a Donkey” in his Chanteying Aboard American Ships (1962). Now, there is some confusion about what Harlow actually experienced all those years earlier and what he re-imagined in the interim. So here he says that a shipmate named Brooks sang the chanty at the halyards, but the version he presents is credited to a Capt. J.L. Botterill of the barque Samantha. Botterill evidently sang a number of chanties to Harlow in the 1830s.

Stan Hugill, in his Shanties from the Seven Seas, is the only other I know to describe this chanty. He says it was popular among timber droghers in Liverpool and Canadian ports, and he learned it from a shipmate named Spike Sennit. Hugill also notes that the song appeared in the Oxford Song Book (Vol. II, by Thomas Wood, 1928), but I have not seen that—will have to track down a copy.

After singing this chanty but not yet recording it, I made this great recording of the Mystic Seaport squad at work at the capstan during the Sea Music Festival of 2009. It was so good that I asked if I could post it as part of my YouTube series.

However, I did not continue the practice of having “guest” performances in my project after that, so now for the sake of completeness I do have to record it. Soon—stay tuned!

Playing hong-ki-kong,

Ranzo :{

#86-87, 89-91 Hieland Laddie / My Bonnie Highland Lassie-O (series)

2012-02-20T00:19:00.000-08:00

I consider “Hieland Laddie” to be one of the very important songs in the history of the development of chanties. This is because, first of all, it turns up among the earlier references to activities that seem to be nearly or fully developed as chanty performances. Second, it’s seemingly obvious Scottish origins complicate (in a healthy way, I suppose) the discussion of ethnic/national origins. Most of the major writers on chanties have acknowledged an African-American contribution to the genre, more or less significant. As can be gleaned from prior blog posts, my position is different in that I consider African-American practice to be the main root of chanties. Yet African-American does not mean “African”; it is, in the main, an English-speaking culture that also inherited and participated in creating products of English-language heritage. A song of Scottish origin, whether in “adapted” form or not, could have well been sung by African-Americans prior to it being turned into a chanty. Indeed, interestingly, the early historical references to this song always use a “highland” form, rather than the more distinctively Scots “hieland.” “Highland” has some affinity to “hi-lo,” which has been seen as a distinctive chorus feature of Afro-American songs, later to become a chanty cliché. And yet, this song’s presence will suggest to many (including me) the possibility of a Scottish/British formative influence which would seem to mar the strong image created by the rest of my evidence (i.e. the evidence that suggests African-American origins). “Hieland Laddie” also supports Stan Hugill’s theory, in Shanties from the Seven Seas, of the Gulf ports acting as a “shanty mart” where European and African-American sailors shared their (already conceived) chanties. I don’t disagree with Hugill that such an exchange may have taken place, but my belief is that it was in such contexts that the very genre of chantey was being created. Black workers may well have learned “Hieland Laddie” from Europeans only at this point, but it was the former who had already developed the paradigm for chanties and who gave it to the latter IMO. Still, I have to consider all the evidence, including how “Hieland Laddie” may affect this idea.

The chanty seems to have been common, but perhaps not as common as its popularity today would have us imagine. It comes in among the top 25 chanties (in frequency) to appear in my historical survey of the age of sail up to the 1920s, however it is not mentioned in many of the major collections. Here is historiographic info about the song in its life as a chanty.

Both in the timeline of events and the timeline of publications the song (as a chanty) first appears in Howland’s Steamboat Disasters and Railroad Incidents in the United States (1840). There is a description (from an officer’s journal) of an incident in September 1835 where a U.S. ship, Peacock, has been grounded near the Gulf of Mazeira off Arabia. The hands are dragging the ship into deeper water by means of both a capstan and manual hauling. When the work was going tough—perhaps in intermittent blasts of force—the men sang “Cheer’ly Man,” which is one of the few definite work-songs we know was already common by the 1830s. But as the work got easier, perhaps allowing for a continuous march-like pace…

…those at the capstan, sang to the tune of the 'Highland Laddie,'

'I wish I were in New York town,'

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,' &c.

It’s notable that even though “Hieland Laddie” was a preexisting song, this one is clearly in a chanty form, for it has the “round the world” device in the verse pattern. Though I don’t want to speculate on it here, some idea of when and where the idea of the “were you ever in XYZ?” pattern originated might tell us something about where chanties were emerging, too. 1832’s The Quid, with its mention of rudimentary capstan songs used in a British East Indiaman, contained a chorus to a song that was later connected by Doerflinger to the song “Were you ever in Dumbarton?”—a song that was called “a windlass chorus” in Melville’s Omoo (related to the early 1840s). This all suggests a possible style of capstan song in Euro-American ships that had a Scottish flavor and the “round the world” device for spinning out choruses.

If this were the case, I must admit that it seems more likely that the same sort of Euro-American sailors brought this work song to the task of cotton-screwing, rather than it emerging as a chanty from that context. It is attested for the mid-late 1840s in the cotton-screwing context by two authors. Erskine (1896) was one of those Euro-American sailors who tried his hand at the work, in New Orleans, Sept. 1845. He remembered singing the song as follows:

“Were you ever in Boston town,

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie?

Yes, I've been in Boston town,

Where the ships sail up and down,

My bonnie Highland laddie, ho!

“Were you ever in Mobile Bay,

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie?

Yes, I've been in Mobile Bay,

Screwing cotton by the day,

My bonnie Highland laddie, ho!

“Were you ever in Miramichi,

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie?

Yes, I've been in Miramichi,

Where you make fast to a tree,

My bonnie Highland laddie, ho!

“Were you ever in Quebec,

Bonnie laddie, Highland laddie?

Yes, I have been in Quebec,

Stowing timber on the deck,

My bonnie Highland laddie, ho!"

[Erskine, Charles. 1896. Twenty Years Before the Mast. Philadelphia: George W. Jacobs & Co.]

Around that time or within a few years after, Nordhoff also observed the song sung by cotton-stowers of Mobile Bay. In the way he described it, it sounds as if it was a new song, in other words he did not connect it to a Scottish original. Here are the lyrics he gave:

Were you ever in Quebec,

Chorus—Bonnie laddie, highland laddie,

Stowing timber on the deck,

Chorus—My bonnie highland laddie, oh.

Were you ever in Dundee,

Chorus—Bonnie laddie, highland laddie,

There some pretty ships you'll see,

Chorus—My bonnie highland laddie, oh.

Were you ever in Merrimashee.

Chorus—Bonnie laddie, highland laddie,

Where you make fast to a tree,

Chorus—My bonnie highland laddie, oh.

Were you ever in Mobile Bay,

Chorus—Bonnie laddie, highland laddie,

Screwing cotton by the day,

Chorus—My bonnie highland laddie, oh.

This is of course an example of what Nordhoff famously called chants or “capstan and cotton songs.”

When Gosse observed this type of work and its songs in 1838, he did not yet note the involvement of White workers. And “Hieland Laddie,” incidentally, was also not among the songs he noted. This silence may add to the idea that European sailors actually contributed the song in the 1840s after they joined the profession.

There is not a lot of detailed evidence following that sailors used the song onboard ship. So many of the references in my tally come from J.M. Carpenter’s informants, recorded in the 1920s, who may have learned the song within a range of any time between the late 1840s and the early 20th century. Edward Robinson and Mark Page, both or which began their sailing careers in the late 1840s and finished up in the late 1870s, knew the song.

The fiction writer and ex-seaman Elijah Kellogg of Portland (ME)/Boston mentioned the song in his 1869 The Ark of Elm Island. Although he remained active in shipping affairs, Kellogg’s sailing years were the 1830s. His writing in this and other stories puts emphasis on Afro-Americans/Caribbeans singing chanties. At some point in this story there is an exchange between American sailors where one sings the following verse:

Was ever you in Aberdeen,

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie,

To see the duke in his Highland green,

My bonny Highland laddie?

The song’s use in the 1870s is suggested by Robinson’s article (1917), wherein he gives lyrics (w/ score) as follows:

Where have you been all the day?

Bonny laddie! Highland laddie!

Where have you been all the day?

My bonny Highland laddie!

Oh! Oh! my heart is sair,

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie!

Oh! Oh! my heart is sair,

My bonny Highland laddie!

A Detroit newspaper, ca. late 1880s, decribed sailors hauling a shark to deck with a chanty, to the following song, in which the chorus of “highland laddie” seems to have been reduced to a nonsense form that may have transmuted with “hi-lo.”

Were you ever in Quebec,  

Ho, la! ho, la!  

Hoisting timber on the deck!  

Ho, la! ho, la!  

With a will now—Heave, oh!

[In: Barrere, Albert, and Charles G. Leland, ed. 1890. A Dictionary of Slang, Jargon & Cant. Vol. 2. The Ballantyne Press.]

For whatever reason, Davis and Tozer did not have the song in the first edition of their chanty collection, 1887. They added it in the 1890/1891 2nd/3rd edition. The later edition is notable for being obviously (in some spots) influenced by L.A. Smith’s The Music of the Waters, which had been published in the interim (1888). Smith, however, did not have “Highland Laddie.” What she did have, reproduced from earlier authors, was the so-called “Hilonday” chanty. Now, here is what Davis and Tozer had for lyrics:

There was a laddie came from Scotland,

Highland laddie, bonnie laddie.

Bonnie laddie from fair Scotland,

Highland laddie, ho!

[etc.]

It seems more like the “original” Scots song, rather than the chanty versions we’ve been seeing. Well, it just does not seem like a sailor’s version; IMO it sounds rather made up. So where did they get this from, “suddenly”? I’d speculate that, since they did not include it in their first edition, it was not a song in their personal experience of chanties. Nor was the song provided in any versions in print that they would have seen. However, they may have been inspired by seeing Smith’s mention of “Hilonday” (“Highland day and off she goes”), after which they presumed to include a version. Additionally, Davis and Tozer file it as a “setting sail” song, rather than a heaving/capstan song—suggesting a confusion of how it was used. Lastly, they melody they give seems a bit off. Hmmm...

The chanty in fact does not turn up much in publication after this. It may be notable that earlier versions quoted did not include a grand chorus. And now, along with that, we start to see the “hieland” pronunciation. Doerflinger (1951) had it from Capt. James P. Barker who would not have learned it until 1889 or later, I believe. He gave,

Ay, Ay, and away she goes,

Bonnie laddie, Hieland laddie,

Ay, ay, and away she goes,

Bonnie Hieland laddie!

'Way she goes, heels and toes,

This is the day we sail this way,

Eckstorm and Smyth gathered two versions for their study of Maine songs (1927). The first was taken down ca.1904 from the singing of Captain William Coombs of Islesboro and was considered a “fishermen’s chantey” for hoisting light sails.

Was you ever on the Isle o’ Holt,

Bonnie laddie, Hielan’ laddie?

Where John Thompson swallowed a colt,

Bonnie laddie, Hielan’ laddie?

Hurroo, my dandies O!

Bonnie laddie, Hielan’ laddie;

Hurroo, my dandies O!

Bonnie Hielan’ laddie.

I opened an orange and found a letter,

Bonnie laddie, Hielan’ laddie.

And the more I read it grew better and better,

Bonnie Hielan’ laddie.

Hurroo, my dandies O!

Bonnie laddie, Hielan’ laddie,

Hurroo, my dandies O!

Bonnie Hielan’ laddie.

The second came from Susie C. Young of Brewer, Main, 1926. It has the “traditional” chanty ring to it:

Was you ever to Quebec,

Halan’ Laddie, bonnie Laddie!

Where they hoist their timber all on deck,

With a Halan’ bonnie Laddie?

Heave-O! me heart and soul,

Halan’ Laddie, Bonnie Laddie,

Heave-O! me heart and soul,

To me Halan’, Bonnie Laddie.

Was you ever to the Isle of France,

Where the girls are taught to dance

[Eckstorm, Fannie Hardy and Mary Winslow Smyth. 1927. Minstrelsy of Maine: Folk-songs and Ballads of the Woods and the Coast. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin. ]

Colcord’s collection (1924) had this set of lyrics:

Was you ever in Quebec? 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie, 

Loading timber on the deck, 

My bonny Highland laddie.  

High-ho, and away she goes, 

Bonny laddie, Highland laddie, 

High-ho, and away she goes, 

My bonny Highland laddie.  

Was you ever in Callao 

Where the girls are never slow?  

Was you ever in Baltimore 

Dancing on the sanded floor?

  Was you ever in Mobile Bay, 

Screwing cotton by the day?  

Was you on the Brummalow, 

Where Yankee boys are all the go?

At last we come to Stan Hugill’s presentation, which begins “PART TWO” of his great collection. He says it was very popular as both a walkaway and capstan song. The walkaway bit is interesting, because so far only “Drunken Sailor” has really been attributed to this arguably obsolete technique. One presumes this was part of Hugill’s personal experience. He also says this was the case in “the old Dundee whalers”—facts about which he did have from an informant, but I suspect also he may be trying hard to make the “story” of this chanty most elegant. For his first version, (A), has a Scottish whaling theme. And while several of the verses correspond to Davis and Tozer’s version, Hugill simply claims he learned it all from “Bosun Chenoworth” who had served in such ships. I think something fishy/whaley is going on. Anyway, here is my rendition of this item.

About Version (B), Hugill says it was as used when “timber droghers” were stowing lumber in the northeast U.S./Canada. How he knows this, he does not say. We may assume it was personal experience, then again he may just be assuming himself based on the “regulation” verse about Quebec and the Miramichi one about lumbering. I had some help in my rendition, that went a little creative with the “round the world” theme—contained in this version, and making it, I think, more in-line with the common historical versions.

[At this point Hugill introduces “Donkey Riding,” which is the subject of a separate blog post.]

Then he mentions "The Powder Monkey"— a 19th century music hall song, "[Little] Powder Monkey Jim," which evidently gained some popularity among sailors. No evidence it was a chantey, however. Hugill merely mentioned it in passing, as he thought maybe it was based on the “Hieland Laddie” chantey. He gives the chorus, which I have rendered here:

Then comes “My Bonnie Highland Lassie-O,” which Hugill got from the Irish song-collector Seamus Ennis (1919-1982). Ennis collected it from a family in County Galway, Ireland—seemingly one of the few chanties collected in Ireland itself. It’s lyrical theme has affinities, I note, with the English traditional song “Billy Boy.”

Also related to “Billy Boy,” I think, is the last in the series, a "Timber drogher's shanty" that Hugill reproduced from Whall’s collection’s 4th edition (1920). Whall gave only this excerpt, which has an entirely different melody but the same “Quebec” couplet as “Hieland Laddie.”

Though the cotton-stowers’ story is much discussed, more, I think, should be said about the lumber-stowers.

On my balcony in Long Beach,

Where all the books are in my reach,

Your bonnie highland laddie,

Ranzo :{

Completion, of sorts (YouTube phase)

2012-02-01T19:37:00.000-08:00

Just a note to mark my completion of (subject to some double-checking!) learning all the chanties in Stan Hugill's Shanties from the Seven Seas. I finished learning and recording the last one yesterday, 31 Jan. 2012. I do have yet to record, to satisfy my own sense of completion, one well-known chanty that for reasons of a time in the past I did not make my own version of.

There are also a couple more "songs used as chanties" that Hugill merely mentioned in passing but which I'd like to learn and record.

After that I will probably turn my attention back to this blog and the reassessment ('second pass') of the YouTube recordings, in order.

Ranzo in Long Beach

#83-85 The Gals o' Dublin Town (series)

2011-12-26T23:59:00.000-08:00

I find those chanties particularly interesting that Stan Hugill presented in Shanties from the Seven Seas, but which occur just once or twice in other documentation—especially if Hugill was not aware of that documentation. Since Hugill’s work came after a long line of writers (and even after popular recordings had put some chanties “in the air”), it is often hard to say for sure whether what he is writing is based “purely” on his sea experiences and fieldwork, or whether it was significantly influenced by prior works. Some of Hugill’s chanties appear in no other works, which certainly makes those items very interesting, but makes them less “useful” (for lack of a better right word here) for the very fact that they cannot be corroborated. So, those that appeared to be rarely mentioned or unique, but which in fact can be discovered elsewhere are, as I said, of particular interest.

Of “The Gals of Dublin Town,” Hugill wrote: ”I fail to understand why such a popular capstan shanty as this should have been omitted from all collections.” Omitted from the well-known collections it was, but not from the historical record, and nor did others before Hugill fail to collect it.

The earliest reference I have comes in Basil Lubbock’s Round the Horn Before the Mast (1902). Lubbock tells of the voyage of a four-masted barque, Royalshire, from Frisco to Glasgow around Cape Horn, July-October 1899. He mentions many chanties. However, despite what seems to have been his first hand experience with the genre, he chose in most cases to present lyrics from Davis and Tozer’s published collection. Fascinatingly, he also mentions “The Girls of Dublin Town,” though it did not appear in Davis/Tozer. It appears in a sentence added on—for no obvious reason—after a paragraph naming other chanties from Davis and Tozer. This gesture seems like it would be meaningless to the average reader, but for us it suggests that, after naming the chanties about which he’d read in books (presumed to be well-known), Lubbock is making an addition of a chanty that he knew of but which he had not seen mentioned. He wrote simply,

“The Girls of Dublin Town” is also a very popular chanty.

Two of the veteran sailors recorded by JM Carpenter in the late 1920s also knew this chanty. John Boyd of Belfast sang a version that included the lyric,

We'll scrape her down and scrub her around

James Dwyer, of Glasgow, was the other to sing it for Carpenter.

In a letter to the Wellington Evening Post, 9 June 1934, John Hutcheson mentioned chanties that he had learned while working aboard a packet ship between Liverpool and NY in 1871. Hutcheson mentioned several “obscene Western Ocean” chanties, i.e. those that one might consider to be classic deepwater items. In addition, he mentions some songs he heard sung by “Mississippi Screwmen,” presumably in New Orleans.

I have heard the Mississippi Screwmen (the very aristocrats of labour) screwing cotton in the hold till they raised the decks to the sound of ‘Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that Flies the Single Star!’ etc.

Strictly speaking, he was not noting “The Gals of Dublin Town,” but rather the related “The Bonnie Blue Flag" (1861). It was a marching song of the Confederacy during the American Civil War. It contains the line,

Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag that bears a Single Star.

The songs share a common air, also that of “The Wearing of the Green” and others.

The first version of the chanty presented by Hugill, learned from Paddy Delaney, shares elements of both the Irish independence and Confederate States autonomy themes. It sings about “The Harp without the Crown” and tells of an American ship with an Irish captain, Shenandoah, which flies the Irish flag.

This was a heaving chanty, and could only be so because its poetic meter/ verse pattern that I call the “Mary had a little lamb” pattern. This was unlike the more common couplet meter/pattern that was found in most halyard chanties. A few chanties have this MHALL pattern, to which any verses of this type could be fitted. So, Hugill’s Version (B) has a more generic sailor theme of,

Sometimes we’re bound for Liverpool, sometimes we’re bound for France,

But now we’re bound to Dublin Town to give the gals a chance.

This pattern and style of verses are shared with common versions of (later to be discussed on this blog) “Heave Away, My Johnnies” and “Can’t You Dance the Polka?”

One other chanty fragment, noted by Hugill (but from a different source than the original I have) comes in Gordon Grant’s sketchbook, Sail Ho! (1931). Grant gave these lyrics:

Some say we’re bound for Liverpool,

Some say we’re bound for France,

I think we’re bound for Frisco boys,

To give the girls a chance.

…

Heave away! my bully boys;

Ho! Heave and bust her!

Hang your beef, my bully boys;

Ho! Heave and bust her!

It’s unclear whether this represents the same song; no tune is given. Because Hugill also presented this, I was obligated to record it, and I chose to fit this "Heave and Bust Her!" to the tune of “Can’t You Dance the Polka?” which it fits better than “The Gals of Dublin Town”—and to which, perhaps, it was more closely related.

In all, a look at this chanty illustrates that Hugill’s was not the last word on chanties and there was/is more to be discovered about their histories.

This marks the end of “Part One” of Hugill’s collection.

Until Part Two,

Ranzo :{

#82 Wat Wi Doht

2011-12-26T22:35:00.000-08:00

Stan Hugill, in Shanties from the Seven Seas, managed to slide this one in as part of his little series of songs using “hurrah!”

A capstan chanty, it’s the second in Plattdeutsch that I tackled. Hugill got this from the German chanty collection Knurrhahn (1936). Though I’ve not laid my hands on this book in print form, my understanding is that several volumes were published over the years, culled from different sources, as a repository of the repertoire of the “Knurrhahn” choir.

moin moin,

Ranso :{

#81 Hourra, Mes Boués, Hourra!

2011-12-25T18:26:00.000-08:00

I’ve not a whole lot to say about this one. (That may end up being the case with most of the non-English chanties!) In any case, most of what I’d say is already in the video description on YouTube.

Well, it’s a French hauling chanty. The third out of 9, so far, in Stan Hugill’s Shanties from the Seven Seas, that he sourced from Capt. Armand Hayet’s 1927 collection Chansons de Bord. (The other two, before this, were hauling songs under the names of "As-tu connu le père Lancelot?" and "Nous irons à Valparaiso." In Hayet’s collection, the present chanty is listed as "Y a z'un petit bois.")

As with the earlier French chanties in Hugill’s collection, which were obvious adaptations of the English chanty "Goodbye, Fare You Well,” this one has an English chorus: “Hoorah, me boys!” However, it does not appear to correspond to any particular known English chanty.

Evidently the verses in Chansons de Bord were expurgated and strung-out to cover the gaps, because the narrative’s theme is obviously intended to be bawdy. However, one can find the unexpurgated text in Cahier de Chansons (ca.1935) [PAGE 1, PAGE 2], which is supposed to have been written by Hayet himself under a pseudonym.

Here’s my rendition, which uses some of the unexpurgated text and gives the song a chanty feel that perhaps is lacking in some revival performances since Hayet first offered it.

Farewell and adieu, mon gars

Ranzo :{

#79-80 Drunken Sailor (series)

2011-12-23T02:33:00.000-08:00

Today's most famous chanty of them all?

I am fond of saying that this chanty is unlike 99.5% of chanties (or something like that). What I mean is, there are just 2-3 “stamp and go” chanties that seem to be documented…and those out of several hundred chanties. So in that respect, though “Drunken Sailor” is one of the best known today (or, known by the most people), it does not represent the chanty genre very well. Much of what one might say about the chanty genre—formally, culturally, historically—does not apply here. And yet it does qualify as a chanty, so it gets lumped in.

A big part of why it appears as an outlier is that it was a “stamp and go” or “walk-away” song. This evidently was a maneuver that was pretty uncommon during the era of what I call chanties (or “modern chanties,” when distinguishing). Indeed, according to the narrative of chanty development that I believe in, small crews on merchant vessels (as opposed to large crews on Navy vessels) were a catalyst for chanty development, and they also made the walk-away maneuver passé.

The tune of “Drunken Sailor”—again, quite dissimilar to other chanties’—is easy to imagine as a bagpipe march or a fiddle or fife tune. The latter instruments were used early on, in British vessels to coordinate labor, so the tune may have come into use, first.

“Drunken Sailor” is rarely mentioned in the 19th century; that does not surprise me. It does get mentioned more after the heyday of chanties, and I wonder if part of that is just continued familiarity with what is an appealing, catchy, and distinctive song. Let’s see. Certainly, after a point, our perception of how common it was got skewed by processes that have gone on since the end of the sailing era, generated through influential publications, recordings, revival performances, school textbooks, and so on. However, I am not going to deal so much with those, but rather stick to the older documentation.

The oldest dating for the song that my information suggests is 1827 or earlier—let’s say the 1820s. Eckstorm and Smyth, in Minstrelsy of Maine (1927), say that one of their grandmothers claimed to have heard it used during tacking (i.e. walking away with braces) on the Penobscot River “probably considerably over a hundred years ago.” The lyrics they offered were:

What shall we do with the drunken sailor?...

So early in the morning?

Put him in the long-boat and let him bail her;

Ay, ay, up she rises!

So, the dating is speculative. The first actual published mention, in the 19th century, is found in an account of an 1839/40 whaling voyage out of New London (CT) to the Pacific.

...But there are many songs in common use among seamen, of a very lively character, which though bereft of all sentiment and sense in many instances, are performed with very good effect when there is a long line of men hauling together. ...Sometimes they all sing together as I have endeavored to represent, although it must appear very tame without the attendant circumstances. One of the songs is as follows:—

Ho! Ho! and up she rises

Ho ! Ho ! and up she rises

Ho! Ho ! and up she rises,

Early in the morning.

[Source: Olmsted, F.A. 1841. Incidents of a Whaling Voyage. New York: D. Appleton & Co. p. 115-6.]

A tune is given, in Dorian mode, with chromatic neighbor tones.

The second reference of the 19th century comes in non-maritime, fiction literature, 1855. An anecdote is related containing a scene of a woman cook at a home who gets drunk, messes up the kitchen, and is found singing the following:

Hee roar, up she rouses,

What shall we do with the drunken sailor?

[Source: Dickens, Charles ed. 1855. "Two Dinner Failures." Household Words No. 256 (15 September 1855): 164-168.]

Davis and Tozer later included it in the 2nd edition (1890) of their collection. Why not in the first edition (1887), I wonder?

What to Do with a Drunken Sailor

What shall I do with a drunken sailor,

Early in the morning

[Cho.] Aye, aye, up she rises,

Oh, aye, up she rises,

Aye, aye, up she rises,

Early in the morning.

Hoist him up in a running bowline,

Put him polishing the brass work,

I’d stop his grog and keep him sober,

That’s what to do with the drunken sailor,

As usual, I don’t put much faith in the authenticity of Davis/Tozer’s verses after the first one or two. Notably, the melody here is in the major mode.

The literature is silent on this song for the rest of the century.

In 1906, after a slew of writers had been discussing chanties with nary a mention of the "walk-away" method, Masefield mentioned it in conjunction with this chanty.

Strictly speaking, there is a fourth variety of chanty, but it is a bastard variety, very seldom used. ...The bastard variety which I have just mentioned has no solo part. It is a runaway chorus, sung by all hands as they race along the deck with the rope. You hear it in tacking ship. It is a good song to sing when the main and mizzen yards are being swung simultaneously. All hands are at the braces straining taut, and at the order they burst into song and "run away with it," bringing the great yards round with a crash. It is a most cheery kind of chanty, and the excitement of the moment, and the sight of the great yards spinning round, and the noise of the stamping feet impress it on the mind. The favourite runaway chorus is:

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?  

What shall we do with a drunken sailor,  

Early in the morning?  

Way, hay, there she rises,  

Early in the moming.

Chuck him in the long-boat till he gets sober,

Early in the morning.  

Way, hay, there she rises,  

Early in the morning.

It is sung to a vigorous tune in quick time. It is the custom among sailors to stamp with their feet at each "Way, hay." The effect is very spirited.

Later on in this work, A Sailor’s Garland, Masefield gives a version with more lyrics:

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?  

Early in the morning.  

Way, hay, there she rises,  

Early in the morning.

Chuck him in the long-boat till he gets sober,  

What shall we do with a drunken soldier?  

Lock him in the guardroom till he gets sober,

Masefield was definitely influenced by Davis/Tozer’s book, but he obviously didn’t copy lyrics here!

An English sailor of the 1860s-70s, Whall was next to give a version in his 1910 work. He was the first author, I believe, to publish the idea that this was only one of two chanties (along with “Cheerl’y Man”) that was allowed in the Royal Navy. He says that this was particularly the case “in revenue cutters and similar craft,” and, telling us something about the dislike of singing in Navy ships, says it was sung “sotto voce” in larger vessels. He adds that it was sung in the “Indiamen” merchant ships, too. The song went out of usage as a “stamp and go,” Whall says, when crews were reduced and it was no longer possible to "walk away" with anything. He notes that there were only two verses, as follows.

Hoorah! And up she rises [etc…] [chorus, appears before each verse]

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?...

Put him in the long-boat and make him bale her…

What shall we do with a drunken soldier…

Put him in the guardroom till he gets sober….

It was sung entirely in chorus, says Whall. The melody is in D Dorian with one chromatic neighbor tone, similar to the one back in Olmsted’s time.

“Drunken Sailor” was remembered by several other sailors, of the 1870s.

Williams (sea experience c. 1875-1888) (1909) called it a main brace “walk away” chanty.

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

Early in the morning!

Put him in the long-boat 'till he is sober.

Early in the morning!

(Stopper and Belay!)

Belay so soon? I guess it was a short chanty.

Harlow’s (1962), in reference to 1870s on the clipper ship Akbar out of Boston, is designated for hand over hand hauling—that is, for hoisting light sails (incl. topgallant) with 2-3 men on the halyard. Evidently though the “stamp and go” maneuver may have been rather obsolete, this fast chanty could be adapted to the hand over hand action. His verses go through different drunken people to which something should be done, e.g. skipper, chief mate, steward, doctor.

Dick Maitland, a sailor of the 1870s, adds another function. He was recorded by Alan Lomax in 1939, where he explained,

Now this is a song that's usually sang when men are walking away with the slack of a rope, generally when the iron ships are scrubbing their bottom. After an iron ship has been twelve months at sea, there's a quite a lot of barnacles and grass grows onto her bottom. And generally, in the calm latitudes, up in the horse latitudes in the North Atlantic Ocean, usually they rig up a purchase for to scrub the bottom. You can't do it when the ship is going over three mile an hour, but less than that, of course, you can do so. But it all means a considerable walking, not much labor, but all walking. And they have a song called 'The Drunken Sailor' that comes in for that.

So, it seems to have lived on in iron ships—perhaps that is why it is more cited in later days?

Maitland’s lyrics are:

[Now] what shall we do with the drunken sailor, …

Early in the morning?

Oh, chuck him in the long boat till he gets sober,

Ay hey and up she rises,

Oh, what shall we do with the drunken soldier,

Oh, put him in the guardhouse and make him bail her,

Put him in the guardhouse till he gets sober,

Put him in the guardhouse till he gets sober

Way hey and up she rises,

Oh, here we are nice and sober,

Oh, way hey and up she rises,

(He mixes up “make him bail her” and “till he gets sober.”)

Bullen (1914), also of the 1870s, gives this verse, with an interesting eye-dialect that looks like (?) it is supposed to represent African-American English.

What shall we do with a drunken sailor,

what shall we do with a drunken sailor,

Early in de mawnin’

Hooray an up she rises,

hooray an up she rises,

Early in de mawnin’.

Incidentally, the melody here is the closest match to today’s versions. Perhaps even more interesting about Bullen’s presentation is his note,

…I gladly confess that my most pleasant recollections of it are connected with the Savage Club where its fine chorus used to be uplifted strenuously by the full force of the brother Savages assembled.

So, by the 1910, “Drunken Sailor” was already being sung as a popular shore song. Being well known in this context may have also contributed to its memory being kept alive in the 20th century, even if it had not often been attested in the 19th.

Taking stock of what we have up to this point, the consistent and (if I may) authentic lines appear to be exactly those of Whall:

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?...

Put him in the long-boat and make him bale her…

What shall we do with a drunken soldier…

Put him in the guardroom till he gets sober….

Davis and Tozer ventured a little beyond, with,

Hoist him up in a running bowline,

Put him polishing the brass work,

I’d stop his grog and keep him sober,

The pattern, then, seems to be that one asks what shall be done with a given person (e.g. “drunken sailor” or “drunken soldier”), followed by the answer of what to do with that person. Stan Hugill, in Shanties from the Seven Seas, states that one might also ask such questions as what should be done with “The Queen o’ Sheba” or with “the Virgin Mary.” Only Davis and Tozer’s, so far, suggests a pattern in which one continues on enumerating what should be done to the sailor—and though their verses sound authentic enough, we know that they frequently extrapolated verses according to need and fancy. Is “Drunken Sailor” really about listing punishments?

Sharp (1914) collected the chanty from James Tucker, who seems to have been a sailor of the 1900s or later. He sang,

What shall we do with a drunken sailor?

What shall we do with a drunken sailor

Early in the morning?

Way ay and up she rises,

Way ay and up she rises

Early in the morning.

Put him in the long-boat till he gets sober.

Keep him there and make him bail her.

So, Tucker has used the regulation verses plus one more that might seem to be extending the punishment theme—though it is really just one of the two variations of the “longboat” response (i.e. “bail her” or “till he gets sober”). Not entirely convincing.

I’d argue that the paradigm shifts with Terry’s (1921) presentation. He gives it for hand over hand hauling, taken from Sir Walter Runciman.

1. What shall we do with the drunken sailor, 

What shall we do with the drunken sailor, 

What shall we do with the drunken sailor 

Early in the morning? 

Hooray and up she rises, 

Hooray and up she rises 

Early in the morning. 

2. Put him in the long-boat until he's sober. (thrice) 

3. Pull out the plug änd wet him all over. (thrice) 

4. Put him in the scuppers with a hose-pipe on him. (thrice) 

5. Heave him by the leg in a running bowlin'. (thrice) [Similar to a Davis/Tozer verse]

6. Tie him to the taffrail when she's yard-arm under. (thrice)

The melody exactly matches Bullen’s, i.e. what people also sing nowadays. We know that it is Terry’s collection that served as a source for many of the early commercial recordings and popular performances. Could this have set a new tone for performances?

The game, in the revival era, seems to be to think of as many punishments for the sailor as possible. Whether this was or wasn’t the paradigm in the sailing ship days may be a moot issue, because evidently very few verses were ever needed to get the job done—those jobs being: stamp and go (to raise yards), hand over hand (for lighter yards), or hauling on braces. It would seem, however, that the newer job mentioned by Maitland—scrubbing the bottom of an iron ship—might have needed more time, which would call for more verses.

Popular verses in the revival include a cutesy one (which doesn’t sound like much of a punishment, IMO): “Shave his belly with a rusty razor.” I’ve not seen this in the documentation of actual sailors’ singing, except for this line from one of JM Carpenter’s informants, George Simpson, in the 1920s:

Shave his chin with a red hot rizor.

Hugill’s variation of this sounds more fierce:

Scrape the hair off his chest with a hoop-iron razor.

I’d don’t recall where I read it, but supposedly this involved using a ring such as that goes around/holds together barrels, sharpening it, and dragging a person through it. However, Hugill does not give a specific source for this and some of his other punishment lyrics. Several of them are obviously culled from Terry, and it’s impossible to say whether the others were sung in tradition or whether they were extrapolated by Hugill or his contemporaries. I guess I’m not convinced whether this string of sailor punishments was the common way of singing it “back in the day.”

Another popular revival lyric, of note, is

Put him in bed with the captain’s daughter…

An explanation of this (urban legend?) is that “captain’s daughter” was euphemism for the cat o’ nine tails, i.e. it meant a beating. But this has not been confirmed, and the line does not appear in the historical record AFAIK.

There was some discussion of this over on the Mudcat Café in February 2011, in which “Lighter” mentions that he previously noted having first heard the line on one of Oscar Brand’s radio shows in 1967 or so. On further reflection, he stated that what he probably actual remembers is Oscar Brand mentioning (although not singing) "What shall we do with the captain's daughter?" This is entirely in line with the paradigm of “What shall we do with X?”, and it’s also suggestive of bawdy or obscene lines that Hugill indicates might have been sung. If this is the case, there is no need to read into “captain’s daughter” as a euphemism.

A study of popular recorded versions may be necessary to sort this out! (Not my field, really.)

Perhaps the real question is: what is the answer to what we shall do with the captain’s daughter?!

Hugill presented two versions. Version (A) is the usual one…except, for some reason, the key signature puts it in Mixolydian mode. Perhap that is a mistake. I treated it as one! My recording was an international collaboration with others on YouTube. My idea was that, because this song is so “played out,” for this video, I should do something special. And, because it is a familiar song, it was a great one with which to get others interested in the project.

I dunno where his Version (B) came from, but it’s different! Only appears in the unabridged edition.

Lastly, there is the issue of the “earl-eye” pronunciation. Hugill states that it was “always” pronounced that way. But—guess what?—I don’t see the other authors making any note of that. Hmm.

Sincerel-eye,

Ranzo :{

#74-78 Hooraw for the Blackball Line

2011-12-21T23:23:00.000-08:00

This was a moderately common chanty, for which I have some affection. I guess there’s just something about the idea of “The Black Ball Line”…how it’s presented…that is fun to sing about or inspiring or. in the very least, filled with typical “chanty” sentiments—those that are part of the genre’s charm.

Let’s see…my records note the time-period mapping of this chanty as follows: Once in the 1850s, thrice in the 60s, 7 times in 1870s (the “zenith of chanties”!), twice in 1880s, once in 1890s (dying off?), 3 times in 1900s (now the folkloric collection era begins), and twice in the catch-all “by the 1920s or any time earlier” period.

The Black Ball Line of trans-Altlantic packet ships started in 1916. Though the type of methods and lifestyle in these ships was supposed to have inspired chanties, the modern shanties don’t really get cooking until the 1840s.

The earliest that the direct evidence (well, the evidence that I know of) can suggest this song to have been around is the late 1850s. That’s purely speculation based on the fact that John Short, whose sea career spanned 1858-1875, sang it for Cecil Sharp in 1914. The version presented by Sharp is most likely a composite, combining Short’s tune and some lyrics with lyrics from one or more others. Here’s the text:

In Tapscott's line we're bound to shine ;

A way, Hooray, Yah;

In Tapscott’s line we’re bound for to shine,

Hooray for the Black Ball Line.

In the Black Ball Line I served my time.

We sailed away from Liverpool Bay.

We sailed away for Mobile Bay.

It was there we discharged our cargo, boys.

We loaded cotton for the homeward bound.

And when we arrived at the Liverpool Dock.

We ran our lines on to the pier.

We made her fast all snug and taut.

The skipper said: That will do, my boys.

The funny thing is that he has it as a heaving chanty.

Cecil Sharp also got it as a capstan chanty from a Charles Robbins of Liverpool in 1908. Best guess is that Robbins’ career was sometime in the 1860s-80s. Anyway, it looks like some of these lyrics were probably mixed into the 1914 text, above. Robbins sang:

O the Black Ball Line I served my time,

Haul a way, Haul away O,

The Black Ball Line I served my time,

Then Hurrah! for the Black Ball Line.

O the Black Ball line is the line for to shine, etc.

We sailed away from Liverpool Bay, etc.

We sailed away with spirits light and gay, etc.

We sailed away for Mobile Bay, etc.

It was there we discharged our cargo, boys, etc.

And we loaded cotton for the homeward bound, etc.

We sailed away with spirits light and gay, etc.

Up aloft this yard must go, etc.

And when we arrived at Liverpool Docks, etc.

We ran our lines unto the pier, etc.

We have around with the same ordle (old) song, etc.

We made her fast all snug and taut, etc.

Now the skipper said, " Now that will do my boys," etc.

Whall, who started his career in the 1860s, didn’t present it until his 1920 expanded collection. For windlass (heaving again!):

In the Black Ball I served my time

To my way, hoo-ro-ya!

In the Black Ball I served my time

Hoorah for the Black Ball Line!

1868’s “On Shanties” article is the first actual mention of the chanty in print that I find.

For the 1870s, we have Capt. Robinson’s memory (looking back from 1917)—again a heaving chanty:

I served my time in the Blackball line.

To my way…Hurrah yah!

In the Blackball line I served my time;

Hurrah! for the Blackball line.

I've crossed the line full many a time,  

And have seen the line both rise and shine.

You will surely find a rich gold mine,  

Just take a trip in the Blackball Line.

The ships are fast, they make good time.  

With clean long runs and entrance fine.

I’ve sailed the seas full many a mile

In wintry cold and sultry clime.

A few more pulls, and that will do.

A few more pulls to pull her through.”

Symondson, 1876, related an episode of the anchor being weighed to,

“I served my time in the Black Ball Line”.

In 1883, W. Clark Russell phrased it as,

“I served my time in the Blackwall Line”.

And in 1887, Davis and Tozer had the following. It’s likely that after the first few verses the rest was made up for publication.

In the Black Ball Line I serv'd my time

Hurrah for the Black Ball Line!

In the Black Ball Line I serv'd my time

Hurrah for the Black Ball Line!

The Black Ball ships are good and true,

They are the ships for me and you.

For once there was a Black Ball ship,

That fourteen knots an hour could slip,

Her yards were square, her gear all new,

She had a good and gallant crew,

One day whilst sailing on the sea,

They saw a vessel on their lee,

They knew it was a pirate craft,

All armed with guns before and aft,

She fired a shot across their bow,

Which was not kind you must allow,

They did not fear as you may think

But made the pirates water drink,

They gave that vessel their sharp stem,

And cut her through; more praise to them,

They seized the pirates' wicked mate,

He was so bad they broke his pate,

The skipper and his wicked crew,

They sunk beneath the waters blue,

It was a plucky thing to do

To cut the Pirate vessel through,

Then drink success to the Black Ball Line,

Their ships are good, their men are fine.

The melody for the above

Luce’s version from Naval Songs (revised, 1902) had the regulation verse about “served my time,” but the melody has quite a variation that does not turn up in any other print or recorded version I know of—a bit like Foster’s “Dixie.”

Whitmarsh (1903), finally, clearly indicates it as a halyard chanty.

All these have varations in the melody, which Stan Hugill sought to note in Shanties from the Seven Seas. The following video demonstrates each of the sample variations that Hugill offered.

The “Liverpool” variation, as I noted in the infobox when I posted the video, is similar to what Colcord had in her 1924 collection. Comparing it now to Robinson’s, above, I think that may have been the original source, as we know Colcord to have made great use of Robinson’s articles. Further, I believe that Ewan MacColl and company (on the album The Black Ball Line, 1957), in creating their Revival rendition, may have used Colcord’s text to prepare what we hear here.

I don’t know the source of “variation (a).”

“Variation (b)” matches the version in Sharp’s English Folk-Chanteys, mentioned above.

“Variation (c)” corresponds to Whall’s.

Hugill’s main version has yet another melody, not found in prior texts. Sounds a bit like "Sacramento" at the beginning.

The above was a revision, my attempt to render Hugill’s version more accurately. However, I had first recorded this chanty much earlier—one of the first in this project. At that time, I was more interested in working up versions using the lyrics offered by Hugill, and didn’t mind so much when my melodies, as in this case, slipped into the popular revival forms!

Hugill got his version from an actual sailor who had once shipped in the Black Ball Line, Paddy Delaney. Delaney said it was a windlass or capstan song. However, for some reason I’ve gotten the impression it was more of a halyard song—probably because it has the typical halyard form. I’ll end with an excellent visual of the song being used as a halyard chanty. Here’s Bay Area chantyman Peter Kasin leading it on the Joseph Conrad at Mystic Seaport.

Direct from that Yankee School,

Ranzo :{

#65-73 Goodbye, Fare-Ye-Well (series)

2011-12-18T03:48:00.000-08:00

This being one of the more popular chanties, Stan Hugill’s Shanties from the Seven Seas includes several different versions, including borrowings into foreign languages.

“Goodbye, Fare You Well,” though it has the binary, solo-refrain-solo-refrain form of many a halyard chanty, strikes me as a song originating from the side of Euro/American culture. Though it certainly could have existed earlier, we don’t get a sense that it was necessarily prevalent before the 1860s. As I noted in the discussion of “Rio Grande,” I feel that whereas earlier “chanties” had the air of Black American songs, by the time the genre had become ubiquitous in the 1860s—and so, “generalized” or “liberalized” or “shared” or whatever you would call it—new chanties of a “White” character were free to develop (at least for the work outside of halyards). This was a windlass chanty with a jaunty 6/8 feel, a temporary melodic modulation, and a particular style of language that, I think, makes it more likely to have belonged to that category. If it means anything, Frank Bullen would have agreed. For whereas he stated that most chanties were of Black origin, and his comments on chanties in his collection (Songs of Sea Labour, 1914) further detail this belief, for the notes of “Good-bye, Fare-you-well” he says,

…an old, old favourite with the white sailor, but it is full of melancholy…probably more frequently sung than any other Chanty when getting under weigh either outward or homeward bound.

The one verse he gave was as follows:

I thought I heard our old man say

Good bye fare you well , good bye fare you well

I thought I heard our old man say

Hurah my boys we’re ho-omeward bound!

By coincidence, the first recorded version I made of this chanty is a bit like Bullen’s.

Several sailors who were active in the 1860s offered versions of this chanty later on.

Buryeson (ca.1861-1880s)

(sans tune)

We are homeward bound, come, let us all sing.

Good-by, fare you well; good-by, fare you well.

We are homeward bound, strike up with a ring.

Hurrah, my boys, we are homeward bound.

Then I thought I heard our old man say

That our store of grog gave out yesterday.

So heave her up, we are bound to go

Around Cape Horn through frost and snow.

Hurrah, my boys, we are homeward bound;

We are homeward bound to Liverpool town.

And when we get there we'll have money to spend,

With lots of good cheer, boys, and lashings of rum.

The landlord will greet us with a bow and a smile,

A-saying, "Get up Jack and let John sit down."

But when your money it is all gone

Then in comes the landlord with a frown.

A-saying, "Young man, it is time you were gone,

1 have a ship for you bound out to Hongkong."

So shake her up, bullies; let us be gone,

And sing the good news, we are homeward bound.

[Buryeson, Fred H. [‘El Tuerto’]. 1909. “Sea Shanties.” Coast Seamen’s Journal 22(40) (23 June).]

Buryeson’s version has some verses that evoke the theme of the forebitter, “Outward and Homeward Bound” (to be discussed later), which does seem to get crossed a bit with this chanty due to the “Hurrah! We’re homeward bound!” trope. Or perhaps, as Hugill says, the forebitter is simply being used for material—which would also explain the tendency for the language/lyrics to be more “English” sounding. The earliest known detailed printing of the chanty, which comes in 1968’s “On Shanties,” also has this theme in the lyric:

To Liverpool docks we'll bid adieu,

Good-bye, fare you well;  

To lovely Poll, and pretty Sue;

Hurrah, brave boys, we're outward bound.

A version along these lines is Hugill’s (B):

For variety (and because Hugill only offers one melody for all his versions), I used the unique melody given in Harlow’s collection for that one.

Whall (ca. 1861-1872)

The opening few bars of melody in this version are distinctly different than those of most others in print version.

O, fare you well, I wish you well!

Good-bye, fare you well; good-bye, fare you well!

O, fare you well, my bonny young girls!

Hoorah, my boys, we’re homeward bound!

O, don't you hear our old man say

We're homeward bound this very day?

We're homeward bound, and I hear the sound,

So heave on the capstan and make it spin round.

Our anchor's a-weigh and our sails they are set,

And the girls we are leaving we leave with regret.

She's a flash clipper packet and bound for to go.

With the girls on her tow-rope she cannot say no.

[Whall, W.B. 1913. Ships, Sea Songs and Shanties. Third edition, enlarged. Glasgow: James Brown & Sons.]

Some of the versions from sailors of the 1870s are as follows.

Robinson

As in some versions (but unlike Hugill’s), its melody’s first bar begins on a high and descends.

Oh Homeward Bound is a joyful cry,

Goodby, fare you well, Goodby fare you well.

We wish you all well, in this hearty goodby.

Hurrah my boys, we’re Homeward Bound.

[Robinson, Captain John. “Songs of the Chanty-Man: IV.” The Bellman 23(577) (4 Aug. 1917): 123-128.]

Dick Maitland

"We're homeward bound!" I've heard them say;  

Good by, fare you well, good bye, fare you well!  

We're homeward bound to Mobile Bay.  

Hurrah, my boys, we're homeward bound!   

When we get there, won't we fly round!  

With the gals we find there we will raise merry hell.  

When we are hauling in the Waterloo Dock,  

Where the boys and the gals on the pier-head do flock,   

And one to the other you'll hear them say,  

"Here comes jolly Jack and his eighteen months' pay!"   

Then we'll go up to the Dog and the Bell,  

And the landlord he'll come in with his face all in smiles,   

Saying, "Drink up, Jack, for it's worth your while!"  

But when you money is all gone and spent,   

There's none to be borrowed nor none to be lent.  

Then you'll see him come in with a frown,   

And then you'll hear him to the other man say,  

"Get up there, Jack, and let John sit down!"   

When your pocketbook's full and your name it is John,  

But when you are broke then your name it is Jack.

[Doerflinger 1951]

That one also has shades of the “Homeward Bound” forebitter. Calling home as “Mobile Bay” seems to have just been the result of rhyme and the place’s general ubiquity in chanties, since the rest of the “narrative” would indicate Liverpool.

American sailor Capt. Leighton Robinson, on a 1939 recording, sang of an equally popular destination,

We're homeward bound for 'Frisco town.

And in James H. William’s (c. 1875-1888) version, it’s said,

We're homeward bound, from Hong Kong town,

We're homeward bound, heave up and down.

[Williams, James H. “The Sailors’ ‘Chanties’.” The Independent (8 July 1909):76-83.]

Yet still it was “Liverpool” that was most commonly documented, as in this:

We’re homeward bound, ah! That’s the sound!

Good-by, fare you well, Good-by, fare you well,

We’re homeward bound, to Liverpool town.

Hurrah! My lads, we’re homeward bound.

[Whitmarsh, H. Phelps. “The Chantey-man.” Harper’s Monthly Magazine 106(632) (Jan. 1903): 319-323.]

This straight-up version is represented by Hugill’s (A). This was my second go at recording it, to better match what Hugill wrote (my earlier attempt, above, being more personalized and whimsical).

Versions documented while chanties were still in wide use include the one in the shipboard newspaper of the steamship Parramatta, from London to Sydney in the fall of 1879 (noted by Haswell, later reproduced in LA Smith’s 1888 collection). It borrowed the narrative theme from “The Dreadnaught”. It’s on the basis of this evidence, I believe, that Hugill decided to offer his Version (D):

(For variation, again, I chose a different melody for the above—this time, Bullen’s.)

When Luce came out with his Naval Songs (1883), he gave one verse. The funny thing is, he indicates it was a halyard chanty. Not surprising, perhaps, but unusual

FOR “SHEETING HOME” TOPSAILS

We're outward bound this very day.

Goodbye, fare you well, Goodbye fare you well.

We're outward bound this very day.

Hurrah! My boys we're outward bound.

Hugill claimed that, similarly, the “Milkmaid” theme was spliced to this chanty. I’ve not seen that elsewhere. Here’s my rendition of Hugill’s Version (C).

Moving on to the 1920s era of popular chanty collections, there is the version presented by RR Terry in his first book (1921). Terry’s note that this popular song was never debased with vulgar lyrics is contradicted by Hugill’s above “Milkmaid” version.

1. I thought I heard the old man say 

Good-bye, fare ye well, Good-bye, fare ye well. 

I thought I heard the old man say, 

Hooray my boys we're homeward bound.

2. We're homeward bound, I hear the sound. (twice)

3. We sailed away to Mobile Bay. (twice)

4. But now we're bound for Portsmouth Town. (twice)

5. And soon we'll be ashore again. (twice)

6. I kissed my Kitty upon the pier

And it's oh to see you again my dear.

7. We're homeward bound, and I hear the sound. (twice)

Finally, Hugill notes that there was one other melodic form he’d heard. This is it:

Then come non-English versions, two Norwegian and two French. They retain English-language choruses.

The first Norwegian fragment was lifted from the Norwegian songs section of L.A. Smith’s The Music of the Waters.

The second comes from Brochmann’s 1916 Norwegian shanties collection.

The first French version keeps the usual form, but replaces the second chorus with a “hourra oh Mexico!” This was the first full French chanty I recorded, and the pronunciation is particularly shoddy, as I was still getting used to the even-more-ridiculous-than-English French orthography!

The second French version is well known. Evidently it became popular after being spruced up and presented in Capt. Armand Hayet’s 1927 Chansons de Bord collection. As soon after as 1932, it had been recorded by popular French singer Lys Gauty.

There is much to wonder about here, with regards to how authentic this form may have been. It appears to fuse “Goodbye, Fare you well” with melodic phrases of “Blow the Man Down.” Incidentally, this is one of the few (only?) foreign songs I’ve heard on recordings of Stan Hugill (here).

Here’s my go at it—a great melody, and the French really just rolls off the tongue nicely!

For a last, comparable version, see “Those Girls from Bermuda,” sung by the whalefishers of Barrouallie and documented in Roger Abrahams’ Deep the Water, Shallow the Shore (1974).

Faring well,

Ranzo :{

#64 Hurrah, Sing Fare Ye Well

2011-12-15T23:19:00.000-08:00

One more to bridge the gap over to the popular "Goodbye, Fare You Well" series...

This is a halyard chanty with a single pull per each refrain. Hugill got his version from a Liverpool seaman.

Before that, the chanty is rarely mentioned. The 1868 article "On Shanties" from Once a Week may have been referencing this with the song title, "Nancy Bell," but there's no way to know for sure. It's Capt. Whall who first mentions it definitively. In the 1920 4th edition of his collection, he added this item, which he said was "a favourite in London ships":

O fare you well, my bonny young girls
Hurrah! sing fare you well!
O fare you well! I wish you well
Hurrah! sing fare you well!

O fare you well, we're bound away;
We're bound away this very day.

In the melody that Whall gives, the "-rah" of "hurrah!" is held out on a pitch.

R.R. Terry collected this chanty as well, from John Short, and published it in his Shanty Book, Part II. The tune was like Whall's. Being that this is found in the manuscripts of chanties collected from John Short, the recent Short Sharp Shanties recording project (vol. 1) includes a rendition, by Keith Kendrick. That rendition, put out by Wild Goose Studios, can be sampled here.

(Evidently Sampson [1927] also gave a version, but I don't have that at my disposal right now. My experience has been that most of Sampson's chanties were culled from elsewhere, so I'm not sure what to say about it at the moment.)

Hugill's melody is almost identical to Whall's, except it does not hold out the second syllable of "hurrah." Both versions seem to "work" fine, in my opinion, and it is hard to say which, if either, was more correct or whether something funny happened at the documentation stage. (If there was an error, and not simply a variation in oral tradition, my money is on Hugill's text as the one containing a notational error, given his poor track record for notation errors as compared to the musicologist Terry.)

These two nearly identical versions of the tune can make for some confusion in the revival context! At one of the evening chanty-sings at Mystic Seaport a couple years back, I remember someone led this chanty (I believe it might have been Peter Kasin). He was singing the version after Hugill. Not many in the gathering, I think, were actually familiar with this under-performed chanty, but evidently some people that are familiar with it know the Whall/Terry-style tune. We were all joining in on the chorus (with those that didn't know it following as best they could). I was singing along rather loudly (as I tend to do, ha), but at least one other participant was also singing along loudly—the Whall/Terry-style chorus! It went on and on, each of us choristers staying firm in our stance that what we were singing was right! There was a sort of hocketing effect.

This is a typical chanty in which improvisation and personalization was the thing, so I followed Hugill's cue and extended or tinkered with the verses, playing on the "Callao" or "South American port "theme in my lyrics.

(Hopefully I didn't sound like a "pirate" there. That's what someone told me after I sang a sea song at an open mic coffee house gathering tonight. Ironic, perhaps, because the song I sang emphasized how wicked and inglorious piracy was.)

Hasta la próxima vista,

Ranzo :{

#63 Goodbye, My Love, Goodbye

2011-12-13T22:41:00.000-08:00

Another short one between the major pieces of repertoire-This one turns up just twice, in the 1870s and 1880s.

In the first case, it is set as a rowing song, appearing in a work of fiction. Katherine Foot included it in a story, "Marcia's Fortune," that she wrote for Scribner's, April 1877. Here's the passage.

Just then the sound of a voice singing reached her ears, and she turned her head to see a little boat, with two men in it, row past—as near in shore as was safe. One was a gunner, and the other a man she knew well,—a broken-down sailor who had once shipped “able-bodied seaman,” but whose day for that had long been over. As he rowed he trolled out an old sea-song, sung by many a sailor as he weighed anchor or reefed top-sails, outward bound. It was this:

“I'm bound away to leave you;
Good-bye, my love, good-bye!
Don't let my absence grieve you;
Good-bye, my love, good-bye!”

Then in 1882, in his famous article for Harper's, W.L. Alden quoted the song, calling it a pulling song:

I'm bound away to leave you
Good-by, my love, good-by
I never will deceive you
Good-by, my love, good-by...

Davis and Tozer picked this up for their collection—seemingly directly from Alden—and created a bunch of extra verses. It was also passed down to Joanna Colcord and C. Fox Smith. This stream is what appears in the second part of my video, preceded by Hugill's offering.

That's it!

Goodbye, my love,

Ranzo :{

#62 Bound to California

2011-12-12T21:25:00.000-08:00

This will be brief, as this song appears just twice, in fragments, before Stan Hugill picked it up for his Shanties from the Seven Seas.

The first appearance comes in one of the earliest "folklore" articles on chanties, a 1906 piece by P.A. Hutchison in The Journal of the American Folklore Society, called "Sailors' Chanties." It is implied from the discussion that the following is an original collection he made in the field:

Good-bye, my love, good-bye,
I cannot tell you why,
I 'm off to Californy
To dig the yellow gold.

I've not seen this in print prior to this date, and wonder if it was a rare chanty. However, Hutchison followed it with this:
On the very same ship from which this was collected, another sailor gave this version:-

Blow, boys, blow,
For Californy, O!
We're bound for Sacramento
To dig the yellow gold.

The second lyric seems to be some form of "Sacramento" (recently discussed)...and if it was a "version," that implies the first lyric was also a form of "Sacramento." The tune would not fit it beautifully, but it could be made to fit OK. Unfortunately the author offered no tune.

The only other time a verse like this (the first) turned up, that I can see, was in C. Fox Smith's A Book of Shanties (1927). Many of Fox Smith's chanties come from prior publications, but in this case she notes a personal source.

Captain J. L. Vivian Millett, from whom I had it, remembers hearing it sung at Algoa Bay [South Africa], in the days when the anchorage off that port was still crowded with sailing ships. A big vessel was just getting up her anchor; she had a good shanty crowd, and the chorus roared out by a score of voices came over the waters of the open roadstead with an unforgettable effect.

Captain Millett could only give me the chorus: perhaps someone who reads this may be moved to recollections of the solo part.

BOUND TO CALIFORNIA
(Capstan Shanty)

Good-bye, my lads, good-bye,
No one can tell me why
I am bound to California
To reap the shining gold!

The tune she gives is not that of "Sacramento." And, being no other sources for this, Hugill reproduced Fox Smith's presentation in SfSS. Here it is, brought off the written page:

In California, but not reaping any gold (no one can tell me why!),

Ranzo :{

#60-61 Oh, Susanna / Susannavisan

2011-12-11T00:56:00.000-08:00

There's a fairly commonly voiced idea in chanty discussions that many common popular songs were used as chanties. This is not referring to the idea of popular song phrases being developed into chanties, but rather taking the songs just as they are or only with a change in lyrics (for example, parody versions). And it implies (I think) we are talking about songs that are first and foremost not associated with the chanty genre. In addition, all this essentially means that all but capstan chanties are excluded from this sort of wholesale borrowing, as the forms of most other chanties really can't match popular songs exactly.

I think there is truth in this idea. However, the evidence that I've collected from the 19th and early 20th century references to chantying do not indicate that this practice was necessarily widespread. Perhaps they simply don't mention it because they think it is not worth mentioning—but that would be speculating. In my list of songs mentioned up through the 1920s, the number of such songs fitting the description are actually quite small. They include "John Brown's Body," "Marching Through Georgia," and "Johnny, I Hardly Knew Ye." I'm inclined to thing—though it would take too much time to search right now—that a particular author or authors popularized the idea. This idea is voiced, for example, in this video I shot of a demonstration in which Glenn Grasso enjoins a group of capstan-working demonstrators to sing "Yellow Submarine" as a chanty . In it, he states,

After the Civil War, as many anchors were probably raised to "John Brown's Body" and "Marching through Georgia"... [cuts off]

Again, I think the idea is a good one, but it would appear to be speculation. There is really little evidence to say this. "John Brown's Body," by far the one mentioned more times, will be discussed in a later post. As for "Marching through Georgia," I can say the following.

A New York Times article from January 1884, discussing chanties, states,

One or two land songs have of late years been transformed Into shantys. “Marching Through Georgia” is becoming a great favorite with Jack, although the air of this does not compare with those of several of his shantys.

Hmm, "one or two", only? "Recent years"? "Becoming a great favorite"? I don't know where the author got his/her information from, but it suggests that the song was only becoming popular for chanty use almost 20 years after the war.

Another mention of MTG is in Walter Jeffery's American maritime history, A Century of Our Sea Story (1900). He makes a general statement, unsupported by references.

Sea chanties are peculiar to the merchant service. Some of these songs go back to the time of the French War, but many of them have an American origin—the New Orleans cotton trade, when niggers were "screwing cotton all de day," having taught our sailors many good choruses. The American Civil War inspired several other songs, or rather, as for example, in "Marching through Georgia," the sailors finding the adaptability of a marching chorus to a capstan tramp, took to singing soldiers' songs on shipboard.

It certainly rings true, but unfortunately the empirical evidence is not there.

In 1906, PC Hutchison wrote about chanties in The Journal of American Folklore. After presenting the texts of several, he makes a summary note:

In short, any song not too complex to march by can be used for a capstan chantie, and the conditions imposed upon the windlass chantie are not more rigid…A favorite capstan chantie is "Marching through Georgia."

Perhaps, if MTG was so popular, one reason why it does not appear more in the chanty literature is that many of the early collectors were British, collecting from Britons, who may not have been in the habit of singing this American song and who certainly would not have offered it when prompted for "English folklore."

Stephen Foster's "Oh! Susanna", the present chanty, was one of these wholesale-utilized songs that seems like it would have appeared more in the historical record, but does not. Hugill notes likewise in Shanties from the Seven Seas. The song appears only in his unabridged edition. Hugill first quotes a fo'c'sle song parody that appeared in Joanna Colcord's collection.

The only chanty (capstan) form he found was a Swedish version in Sång under Segel. It's melody varies from Foster's song, and its Swedish text is original, not a translation of the English.

The close proximity to this popular song to chanty-singers is evinced in a 1893 work A Tale of Two Oceans. The author, E.I. Barra, is relating anecdotes of

An Account of a Voyage from Philadelphia to San Francisco, Around Cape Horn, Years 1849-50, calling at Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, and at Juan Fernandez, In the South Pacific.

The passage is as follows.

When the top-sails were mastheaded, the pilot sung out to cast off the bow line. "Now run up your jib, Mr. Mate. Now ease away on your spring line;" and the vessel began to move from the wharf. Then the pilot sung out, "Let go your spring and stern lines!" Then the good ship began to forge ahead; and the last cord that held the ship tied to the land was cast off and she was as free as the bird that flew around her masthead. Just then a number of the passengers mounted the quarter-deck and struck up a song that was then quite in vogue in minstrel exhibitions, changing a few words of the chorus to suit the occasion. It ran thus:

"I dreamt a dream the other night when everything was still;  
I dreamt I saw Susanah, a coming down the hill.  
She had a pancake in her mouth; a tear was in her eye;  
Says I, ' O Susanah, dear; Susanah, don't you cry.'"

CHORUS. "O! Susanah, don't you cry for me!   For I'm bound to California with my washbowl on my knee."
Alas, the song itself was not being used as a chanty here. The search continues!

Tills jag kommer hem igen,

Ranzo :{

#59 The Sailor Fireman

2011-12-09T23:18:00.000-08:00

This is one song's discussion where we can easily add a bit to Stan Hugill's in Shanties from the Seven Seas. The song appears only in the complete edition of the collection. Hugill had merely republished this English-language song that was in a Swedish chanty-collection (Sång under Segel).

It seems that the Scandinavians had preserved a work song that Hugill had not encountered in his experience, nor had the well-read chanty-collection editors. The Swedish editor, Sternvall, noted the song's appearance in an 1850 (Google Books says 1851?) volume called Nigger Melodies. We can add more.

The song seems to belong to an era in which Black laborers on the steamboats of American rivers had developed a rather distinctive working culture. Those that tossed fuel into the boilers, to provide steam for the boats, were known as "stokers" or "firemen." White writers on African-American song described the singing of these boat hands as something of great emotional expression, if not "wildness."

An ca.1832/3 observation (Latrobe, The Rambler in North America, 1835) on a steamboat on the Ohio noted, "the wild song of the negro fire-men." Also set on the Ohio, a story published 1842 (Ingraham, “Trials and Triumphs; or, Struggles of Early Genius”), describes:

The half-naked negro firemen busily casting huge sticks of wood into the mouths of the row of yawning furnaces beneath the serried boilers, accompanying their labor by a loud and not unmusical song;

And for Mississippi, ca. 1843-46 (Regan, The Western Wilds of America, 1859), there's this:

The fires, as is usual, were upon this lower deck, served by negroes. As we lay with our hats drawn over our faces in a half doze, the firemen struck up one of those singularly wild and impressive glees which negroes alone can sing effectively. By turns the singer would break out into measured tones of laughter, followed by an outburst of musical salvoes, very singular and very commanding, coming as they did from the lungs of half a dozen or more. This would be succeeded by a sharp, piercing, “desolate howl,” and this again by the full chorus of negro voices, aided by the black cook, who, captivated by the strains, would lean his breast up against his galley door, and grin out his satisfaction in true character, To describe in writing, however, the singular effect of this strange medley of sounds, would be impossible.

Evidently this sort of labor (and, one understands, the songs as well) was on the wain for Black men by the 1850s, as an editorial from 1851 claims,

The firemen on the steam-boats on the western waters are now whites, where they used to be free coloured men; and the negro's song, as he filled his furnaces, has ceased on the Ohio and Mississippi. [Quoted in Bright, Free Blacks and Slaves, 1853]

Indeed, the references to this genre/practice peter out in the 1850s, save for perhaps the most famous reference of all, in Allen's Slave Songs of the United States (1867). The work includes African-American songs from before the Civil War, including a Mississippi steamboat song and a Savannah firemen's song. Allen says in the intro,

These are the songs that are still heard upon the Mississippi steamboats—wild and strangely fascinating—one of which we have been so fortunate as to secure for this collection. This, too, is no doubt the music of the colored firemen of Savannah, graphically described by Mr. Kane O'Donnel, in a letter to the Philadelphia Press, and one of which he was able to contribute for our use....

The firemen's song being referred to is "Heave Away," which appears to be directly related to the famous sailors' chanty, "Heave Away, My Johnnies," and which was often quoted/reprinted in later works of the 19th century.

But wait, not so fast—there's another reference, in the 1860s. And yet it also acknowledges the dying out of the phenomenon:

For many years the steamboats on Western and Southern rivers were, almost without exception, manned by crews of negro slaves. Even after white labor began to encroach upon the occupation of the “deck-hand” and “roustabout,” the vocation of “fireman” was peculiarly the negro's. He basked in an atmosphere insupportable to whites, and delighted in the alternation of very hard labor and absolute idleness. It was not uncommon for large steamers to carry a crew of forty or fifty negro hands, and it was inevitable that these should soon have their songs and peculiar customs. Nine-tenths of the “river songs” (to give them a name) have the same refrain, and nearly all were constructed of single lines, separated by a barbarous and unmeaning chorus. The leader would mount the capstan as the steamer left or entered port, and affect to sing the solo part from a scrap of newspaper, “the full strength of the company” joining in the chorus...
[Brown, “Songs of the Slave,” McBride’s Magazine 2(39) (Dec. 1868).]

A song snippet is then given:

What boat is that my darling honey?
   Oh, oh ho, ho ay yah yah-ah!
She is the “River Ruler”; yes my honey!
   Ah a... yah a...ah!

There is more that can be said about the relationship between these "stokers" (steamboat fire-men), actual firemen (i.e. who put out fires!), and stevedores—all of African-American stock and all singing songs that were observed to be similar. The cross-utilization and vagueness are perfectly represented by the chorus, "Fire down below," which can refer to fire that needs to be put out, fire that needs to be stoked below deck, or even (in the sailors' case) a bawdy metaphor...and which crops up in other sailor songs.

I have located four unique references to the present song, the so-called "Sailor Fireman."

1. A dramatic scene published in 1839 (Bentley’s Miscellany vol.6), subtitled "Hudson River Steam-boat Dialogues," contained the following "stoker's chaunt":

The ebben tide ib floating past,
   Fire down below!
The arrival time ib coming fast.
   Fire down below!
Racoon cry in de maple tree,
   Fire down below!
The wood ib on fire, and the fire a sea,
   Fire down below!
Oo a oo oh! fire down below!

African-American songs of this period seem to have been often refered to as "chaunt"—perhaps the predecessor of chant and chanty.

2. Obviously a work song belonging to the trade, like "Stormy" this too was adopted by White's Serenaders, a minstrel troupe from NYC, by 1848. Here are the published lyrics of their version (probably the version refered to by the Swedish editor, Sternvall, noted above):

I'll fire dis trip, but I'll fire no more
   Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!
Oh, pay me my money , and I'll go on shore
   Fire down below.

Miss Fanny Bell, oh, fare you well
I'm gwine away, p'r'aps to — [Hell]

A bully boat, and a bully crew
An' a bully ragin' captain, too

De possum jump, and de panther roar
I woke dis mornin' at half-past four

I crept out safely from my hive
An took a dram at half-past five

Says I, “ole boat, let's have no tricks”
Her biler bust at half-past six

So now we trabbel under sail
'Kase Jonah's de man dat swallowed de whale

I'll fire dis trip but I'll fire no more
Pay me my money, an I'll go on shore

3. The song remained in traditional use in 1853, according to the observations of F.L. Olmsted (A Journey in the Seaboard Slave States, 1856), who heard it sung by steamboat hands on the Red River (Louisiana).

We backed out, winded round head up, and as we began to breast the current, a dozen of the negro boat-hands, standing on the freight, piled up on the low forecastle, began to sing, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and shirts lashed to poles, towards the people who stood on the sterns of the steam-boats at the levee. After losing a few lines, I copied literally into my note-book:

“Ye see dem boat way dah ahead.
   Oahoiohieu.
De San Charles is arter 'em, dey mus go behine.
   Oahoiohieu.

So stir up dah, my livelies, stir her up; (pointing to the furnaces).

Dey's burnin' not'n but fat and rosum.

Oh, we is gwine up de Red River, oh!

Oh, we mus part from you dah asho'.

Give my lub to Dinah, oh!

For we is gwine up de Red River.

Yes, we is gwine up de Red River.

Oh we must part from you dah oh...”
4. Elijah Kellogg's 1869 novel The Ark of Elm Island contains a scene with Black sailors doing a walk-away manoever—a shipboard connection.

“Walk away with it, my boys,” said the captain; and, taking the warp on their shoulders, they walked along the deck, still keeping step to the song.

WALKING SONG.

“Take de line, an' walk away,
Ho-o; ho, ho, ho.
Gwine to leabe you; cannot stay,
Fire down below.

Gwine to leabe you, Johnny Bull,
'Cause yer dunno how ter pull,

Like as do dis Yankee crew,
Warpin' ob de ballahoo...”
So...here's the song as it appeared in SfSS. Something ripe for "revival"?

oh-oh, oh-oh, oh,

Ranzo :{

#54-58 Sacramento (series)

2011-12-09T01:27:00.000-08:00

Seemingly the ultimate "Gold Rush" (American) chanty, "Sacramento" appears to evince an explosion of chanty-singing with the great rush of clipper ships 'round the Horn. Unfortunately, it is not attested until the 1860s, so much is guesswork and interpretation.

As Stan Hugill notes in Shanties from the Seven Seas, the song has the feel of a Black American folk song or a minstrel song. As is often the case, it's really hard to tell what the direct influence may have been. There was just too much similar stuff going on at the time to say what all came at what time. Did the chanty "come first"? And if not, did the sailors imitate a particular song or did their chanty emerge from multiple influences...or simply just the common musical language of the time?

Putting aside any attempt to create a timeline of cause and effect, the chanty can be compared with several songs with which it shares similar phrases or melodies. One of these is the phrasing and chorus of a song attributed to the Hutchinson Family Singers, "Ho! for California!", which goes:

Then, ho! Brothers ho!
To California go.
There's plenty of gold in the world we're told
On the banks of the Sacramento.

Another is the famous "De Camptown Races" by Stephen Foster, which was published in February of 1850. The main similarity here is to the "doodah" refrain. However, the first half of the chorus melody in "Camptown" also sounds like "Ho! for California!"—which was, as far as can be determined, composed earlier (Feb. 1849). Richard Jackson, editor of one of the Stephen Foster collections, suggested that Foster may have heard stevedores singing about "camptowns," which were shantytowns for Black laborers. On one hand, the tremendous popularity of "Camptown Races" makes one think that sailors would have adopted it, I think there is enough other info to raise doubt of that trajectory and to suggest, rather, that "Sacramento" and "Camptown" came from a common source (e.g. stevedores).

One of these is the "Ho! for California!" chorus. I think that if sailors had adopted the "Camptown" hit, they'd have basically stuck to the same chorus propagated by it. Another thing to consider is that sailors sang "hoodah" (versus "doodah" of Foster). Again, I think the influence of the mass-disseminated minstrel song would have made the sailors sing "doodah" as well. Yet another thing is the solo/verse melody of "Sacramento," which in most documented versions is unlike the "nyah-nyah nyah-nyah" melody of "Camptown" (nor is it like "California"). That melody is similar to the one in a chanty that Hugill called "The Sailor Fireman" (to be discussed in the next post). In sum, the only really significant similarity, in my opinion, between "Camptown" and "Sacramento" is the hoodah/doodah correspondence—a correspondence that may simply reflect a common work-song refrain. (However, we are told also by Hugill that the regular "Camptown Races" was also sung as a capstan chanty.)

Now for a quick hop along the song's trajectory, to sample some lyrical variations.

Capt. Whall may have learned his version in the 1860s, though he did not publish it until the 1920 edition of his work. In earlier editions, he prejudicially avoided what he called "nigger shanties", but it seems by this time he was pressed to add these popular songs. The version he offers is simply "Camptown Races" with the sailor chorus added. So there is some doubt, in my mind, whether this is what Whall would have actually heard or sung, or if he was putting in something he could scrape up, for formality.

The earliest print attestation does come in the 1860s, in the (by now familiar) "On Shanties" article. Chorus only is given:

Blow, boys, blow, for California, O,  

There's plenty of gold in the land, I'm told,  

On the banks of Sacramento.

Buryeson's (Coast Seamen's Journal, 1909) version may date from the 1860s. It had the "sailor meets gal"/fireship theme.

We're bound for California I heard the old man say;

To me hoodah, to me hoodah.

We're bound for California this very good day.

To me hoodah, hoodah day.

Blow, boys, blow for California;

there is plenty of gold, so I've been told,

on the banks of the Sacramento.

As I was a-walking one day up and down

I spied a gay damsel she seemed outward bound.

I fired my bow-chaser, the signal she knew;

She backed her main topsail, for me she hove to.

I hailed her in English, she answered me thus:

My name is Sally Gubbins, and I'm bound on a cruise.

Then I gave her my hawser and took her in tow,

And into an alehouse together we did go;

And drank ale and brandy till near break of day,

When I went a-rolling down home Tigerbay.

She had rifled my lockers while I filled my hold,

And aboard of my packet I had for to scull.

With a hookpot and pannikin I got under weigh

Seven bells in the morning, the very next day.

And when I have finished a-singing my song

I hope you'll excuse me if I have sung wrong.

She was a fine frigate you must understand,

But one of those cruisers who sail on dry land;

A reg'lar old fire-ship, rigged out in disguise,

To burn jolly sailors like me, damn her eyes.

We're bound for California this very good day;

We're bound for California I hear them all say.

Davis and Tozer had this in their 1887 collection—the next published mention:

As I was walking down the street, 

Hoodah, to my hoodah, 

A charming girl I chanced to meet, 

Hoodah, hoodah day, 

Blow ye winds, heigh-ho, For California O, 

There's plenty of gold, so I'm told. 

On the banks of Sacramento.  

The girl was sweet and fair to view. 

Her hair so brown, her eyes so blue. 

I said, 'Fair maiden, how d'ye do?

'Quite well, sir, no thanks to you!' 

I asked then if she'd take a trip

A-down the docks to see a ship   

'No thank you sir, I will not go,

I thank you, but must answer 'no!   

'My love is young, my love is true; 

I would not leave my love for you   

So, quickly then I strode away, 

I'd not another word to say.    

Sing and heave, and heave and sing, 

Heave and make the handspikes spring,

It's a cleaned-up version of the familiar theme.

As many of the late 19th century and early 20th century versions are copy-cats or seem somewhat contrived, I'll skip ahead to Bullen, 1914, who offers an interesting verse:

New York City is on fire

With a hoodah an a doodah!

New York City is on fire

hoodah doodah day.

Blow boys blow for Californyo

There’s plenty of gold, so I’ve been told,

on the banks of the Sacramento.

The "fire" lyric suggests a possible connection to the "Fireman" song which will be discussed in the next post of this blog.

Hugill offers four different lyrical themes and two melodic forms. One of the melodic forms is the "Camptown" one. In one video, I sang three of the lyrical versions, (A), (B), and (D), to this melody.

Version (A) is a bawdy one with the "sailor meets gal" theme. Although Hugill bowdlerized the chorus, it's clear that "plenty of grass to wipe your ass" is the authentic lyric. The verse lyrics in the video (again, they were bowdlerized in SfSS) owe much to Jerry Bryant's (as "Salty Dick") presentation (though perhaps also to some Oscar Brand stuff?). Bryant participated in an unexpurgated song workshop with Hugill at Mystic Seaport in 1988, and I believe most of the verses are derived from what Hugill actually sang then. (I may have added or adapted other verses in this interpretation.)

Version (B) is another "sailor meets gal" theme, however it is unrealistically "clean," I think. It seems like Hugill took it from Davis and Tozer's collection.

Version (D) is straight up "Camptown Races." Here's the set:

Version (C), then, uses what would seem to be the "proper" chanty melody—though by no means does the available documentation confirm this. It's solo lyrical theme concerns going around Cape Horn, that is, it is in accord with the chorus lyrics.

Not surprisingly, this popular chanty was adapted into other languages. The Low German version is "De Hamborger Veermaster" ("The 4-masted barque of Hamburg"). My guess is that it originates in a much later period than "Sacramento"; I don't think there's any evidence of it in the 19th century. There is only one, consistent version of it, that I know of, which follows a rather clear narrative—perhaps deliberately composed by an individual and propagated.

This was actually the first "foreign language chanty" that I learned/recorded. I had finished with all the English-language ones, and was not sure if I would continue, being somewhat daunted by the idea. But I was bored/free and alone around last Christmas, in an empty house, and I thought I'd try this!

Doodah/hoodah/ho-day,

Ranzo :{

#53 California

2011-12-07T22:18:00.000-08:00

Stan Hugill's Shanties from the Seven Seas contains numerous song examples that are not chanties or even sea songs really, but rather there to support discussions of the possible origins of the chanties. Here is one of them, which figures into the discussion of the famous chanty, "Banks of the Sacramento."

The New England-based Hutchinson Family Singers introduced this song in 1849, during the California Gold Rush. Well, to be precise: a collection of their songs (The Hutchinson Family's Book of Words), dated 1851, says about "Ho! for California!":

A song composed for a band of overland emigrants, who left Massachusetts, in the spring of 1849.

Composed for them? Interesting. This, however, would not eliminate the possibility that the song was based on (or a parody of) an earlier existing song.

In any case, the significance here is that, if a chanty did first not inspire "Ho! for California!", then it was this song that may well have inspired the chorus section of the "Sacramento" chanty.

Ranzo :{