Tag Archives: Charles Finnemore

25 Oct

Farewell to Caledonia

My name is Willie Rayburn, in Glasgow I was born,
The place of my residence I was forced to leave in scorn;
From home and habitation was forced to gang awa’,
So fare-you-well, you hills and dales of Caledonia.

The crime that I was taken for was robbery and fraud,
I lay the blame on nae one upon this earthly sod;
I lay the blame on nae one, but comrades I had twa,
So fare-you-well, the hills and dales of Caledonia.

It was early the next morning before the break of day,
Our turnkey came to us, those words to us did say,
“Rise up, you pitiful convicts, I warn you one and a’,
This day you leave the hills and dales of Caledonia.”

Then I arose, put on my clothes, my heart was filled with grief,
My friends they gathered around me, but could grant me no relief;
They bound me down in irons for fear I’d run awa’,
So fare-you-well, you hills and dales of Caledonia.

Here is to my old father, he is one of the best of men,
And also to my own true love, Catharina is her name,
No more we will roam by Cylde’s green banks or by the brim awa’,
This day I leave the hills and dales of Caledonia.

Goodbye to my old mother, I am sorry for what I have done,
I hope it ne’er will be cast to her the race that I have run;
I hope the Lord will protect her when I am far awa’,
So fare-you-well, you hills and dales of Caledonia.

We return to the deep and fascinating repertoire of Irish-Minnesotan singer Michael Dean this month for a Scottish song that has a long history in Ireland. Like “Highland Mary” and other songs, “Farewell to Caledonia” likely came from the pen of a Scottish song maker and went to the north of Ireland with the flow of itinerant workers and immigrants between the two islands. It was printed as a broadside in Scotland in the mid-1800s as “Jamie Raeburn’s Farewell” (the song’s narrator is Jamie in most versions). Sam Henry printed a variant from Strabane, County Tyrone in his Songs of the People newspaper column in 1926. The song appears in several Scottish song collections and has been popular with many singers and bands since the folk revival of the 1960s.

Across the Atlantic, the song turns up in Mike Dean’s Minnesota-printed Flying Cloud songster as well as in the repertoires of two New England singers recorded by Helen Hartness Flanders: Sidney Luther of Pittsburg, New Hampshire and Charles Finnemore of Bridgewater, Maine. We have no record of what melody Dean used. Luckily, Finnemore is one of my favorite New England singers so I was delighted to discover the recording of him singing his version in October 1945. Finnemore’s melody is quite close to that sung by Ontario/North Dakota singer Arthur Milloy for the song “Mines of Cariboo” which is a favorite of mine. The above is a combination of Dean’s text and Finnemore’s melody.

Woodcut from a 19th century broadside printing of “Jamie Raeburn” held by the Bodleian Library at the University of Oxford. See: http://ballads.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/view/sheet/26720
20 Jun

Moorlough Mary

When first I saw my dear Moorlough Mary,
 ’Twas in a valley in sweet Strabane,
Her smiling countenance was so enticing,
All other females she would tramp on,
Her smiling glances bruised my senses,
No rest will I find neither night nor day,
In my silent slumber, I’ll wake in wonder,
Crying “Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?”

Was I a man of good education,
Or Erin’s Isle all at my command,
I’d lay my head on your seething bosom,
In bands of wedlock, you’d join my hand,
I’d entertain you both morning and evening,
In robes I’d dress both neat and gay,
With kisses sweet, love, I would embrace you,
Kind Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?

I’ll away, I’ll away to some lonely valley,
Where recreation is in full bloom,
Where the rivers mourning and salmon sporting,
Each sound and echo brings something new,
Where the thrush and blackbird is joined in chorus,
The notes melodious on each stream bound,
I would sit and sing ’til my heart’s contented,
Dear Moorlough Mary, if you was with me now.

I’ll press my cheese while my mules* are teased,
I’ll milk my ewes by the eve of day,
I’ll sit and sleep ‘til my heart’s contented,
Crying “Moorlough Mary, won’t you come away?”

*most Irish versions refer to the teasing of “wools” here

This month we have a north woods version of the well-loved Irish song “Moorlough Mary” that some may know from the singing of Paddy Tunney, Cathal McConnell, Kevin Mitchell or other singers from the north of Ireland.  A version from Co. Tyrone appears in Sam Henry’s Songs of the People with the note that it was composed by Tyrone man James Devine around 1876. If Devine wrote it, it must have gained popularity quickly as it appears in the Bodleian Library’s broadside archive on a London-printed song sheet from before 1885.

New England song collector Helen Hartness Flanders collected two versions in northeastern Maine. Both field recordings are available online via the Helen Hartness Flanders Ballad Collection on archive.org. The above melody is my transcription of what Charles Finnemore of Bridgewater, ME sang for Flanders in 1941.  Finnemore’s text was only a fragment so I transcribed the text based on Flanders’ 1942 recording of Jack McNally or Staceyville, ME. Both singers have wonderful traditional styles. McNally’s singing is more full-throated and intense where Finnemore is light and lilty. They are both great examples of Irish style singing transplanted to the North American woods.

20 Jun

Hiring Time

My chum and I we left Belfast for Dubilin town we took our way,
And all along the road was strewn with lads and lassies fair and gay,
‘Til drawing nigh one did I spy as she walked slowly by hersel,
And for fear the rain her clothes would stain I did display my umberel.

“Where are you going my pretty fair maid how far do you intend to stray?”
“To Antrim’s town sir I am bound for this they say is hiring day,
The clouds they do look something wet although the morning did look fine,
I fear my love” she then did say, “we won’t be in for hiring time.”

“O cheer your heart, my pretty maid for by and by the rain will pass,
And don’t be sad when with a lad, a roving baker from Belfast,
Then if you will accept a drink of whiskey, brandy, ale or wine,
We’ll have a drink and then be there to Antrim’s town by hiring time.”

She gave consent and in we went to an alehouse that stood by the way,
Glass after glass around did pass and we both forgot it was hiring day,
The clock struck three she smiled at me saying “Roving baker the fault is thine,
For the day’s far spent, night’s coming on besides I’m late for hiring time.”


We have another song this month from the wonderful repertoire of Charles Finnemore of Bridgewater, Maine as recorded by Helen Hartness Flanders in the 1940s. I have found versions of “The Hiring Time” (aka “The Hiring Day” or “The Strabane Hiring Fair”) sung by Eddie Butcher of Co. Derry, Michael Gallagher and John Maguire of Co. Fermanagh and Dick Flynn of Co. Wexford (also Jimmy Grant). It seems to have been a well-travelled song in Ireland. In Scotland, it was “The Feeing Time” and versions show up printed on broadsides there as early as the 1840s.

Finnemore’s version leaves off the ending typically sung in Ireland where the couple gets married in the morning and lives happily ever after. Finnemore also sang the song twice for the Flanders collection and did a different second verse each time. His drifting second verse split well into two verses with some help from one of the Scottish broadsides I found online through the National Library of Scotland so this is what I have printed above. To hear Finnemore’s varying versions, visit the Flanders Ballad Collection on archive.org.

The pattern of attending seasonal hiring fairs in Ireland and Scotland persisted in new forms in Maine and other north woods communities where lumber companies would send out agents, (“preachers of the gospel” one Michigan song calls them) each fall to hire enough men for their crew.