Ireland - evergreentrad

01 Nov

Nellie Greer

It was in the month of August in eighteen forty-four,
My parents they transported me far from my native shore,
Because I would not break the vow I swore unto my dear-o,
They forced me from the arms of my darling Nellie Greer.

To leave my home and Ireland where my first breath I drew,
They sent me to America my fortune to pursue,
For three weeks on the ocean no danger did I fear-o,
For my heart was with the girl I left, my darling Nellie Greer.

The raging seas rolled mountains high, which tossed us to and fro,
Our ship she struck upon a rock and to pieces she did go,
Of three hundred fifty passengers, but thirteen reached the shore-o,
The others to the bottom went, we never saw them more.

We lay on St. Paul’s Island, for four long days, or five,
Our bed it was the cold, cold ground our covering was the skies,
Our money and our clothing gone from off that doleful wreck-o,
Now weren’t we a dreadful sight when we landed in Quebec?

I’d rather have my Nellie than riches, land or fame,
For riches are so fleeting and fame is but a name,
Though many miles divide us true love can never die-o,
I seem to hear her voice as I hear the night wind sigh.

I chose another song this month that depicts an Ireland to Canada immigration story. Unlike last month’s song, “Carnanbane,” “Nellie Greer” (Roud 4084) appears exclusively in North American collections so it could be that it was composed on this side of the Atlantic.

The destination here is Quebec (presumably Quebec City) which was the other main Canadian port of entry for Irish immigrants along with St. John, New Brunswick. St. Paul Island is a remote and extremely rugged island 15 miles northeast of Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Edwin Guillet in The Great Migration wrote that St. Paul Island “has been the site of numerous shipwrecks; many vessels, carried out of their reckoning by the currents, having been dashed against it when concealed by fog, and instantly shattered to atoms. Human bones and other memorials of these disasters are strewed around its base.”

The above text is my own composite drawing on versions from Carrie Grover (Nova Scotia/Maine), Lena Bourne Fish (New York/New Hampshire), Mary Ann Galpin (Newfoundland) and Martin McManus (Ontario). There are other versions collected by Helen Hartness Flanders in New England. Most singers had the woman’s name as “Sally Greer” but Grover sang Nellie. The melody above is a very slightly tweaked take on that used by Carrie Grover and for it I am indebted to the wonderful Carrie Grover Project website created by Julie Mainstone Savas at carriegroverproject.com. You can see Grover’s full version there.

01 Nov

Carnanbane

When I was young and foolish still, Amerikay ran in my head,
I from my native country strayed, which caused me many a tear to shed.
I left that place was nate, complete, where gently blossoms the hawthorne,
On the twenty-sixth of Ap-er-ile, it being on a Friday’s morn.

My friends and comrades convoyed me to near a place called Claudy town,
And when our parting did draw near, the tears from them came trinkling down.
With courage stout I stepped out and down the Faughn took my way,
And in the space of two short hours my course I stopped on Derry Quay.

It’s down the Foyle we then did steer and dropped our sails on Moville strand.
And as the sun was going down I lost the sight of Paddy’s land.
Our seamen stout they stepped out while the headwinds did softly blow,
Still hoping for a pleasanter gale; next morning we to sea would go.

But when I’m landed in St. John’s, I’ll fill my glass and grieve no more,
Still hoping for the pleasant hours when I’ll return to the Irish shore,
And when I’m in the fields alone or wandering o’er Columbia’s land,
I’ll often think of going home to the girl I left in Carnanbane.

We stray from the formula a bit this month for a song that has was not collected in North America at all but that does tell the type of Ireland to Canada immigration story that is at the root of how Irish songs came to be sung in the north woods. Carnanbane is a townland in County Derry and the above melody (with some adaptation by me) and text were collected by Sam Henry from William Laverty who got it from James Young of Dungiven.

The song’s protagonist leaves Derry quay and sails for “St. John’s.” St. John’s is the capital of Newfoundland and St. John is an important port city in New Brunswick. Folk song scholar John Moulden has argued convincingly that Irish songs of emigration frequently confuse St. John with St. John’s and that a story of emigration from Derry was almost certainly referencing St. John, New Brunswick. Moulden quotes Sholto Cooke’s book The Maiden City and the Wester Ocean saying St. John, New Brunswick was “…the cradle of Derry trade with North America and the destination of great numbers of emigrants for Canada or in transit to the United States.” Ships did not typically carry passengers from Derry to Newfoundland.

Emigration to Canada was especially common in the pre-Famine years with the two main destinations being St. John and Quebec City. Of the over 750,000 Irish that sailed for the New World between 1828 and 1844, Canadian ports welcomed about 55% of all arrivals (409,000 total over those 17 years). Many Irish immigrants continued on to urban centers in the United States. Those that stayed in Canada tended to fall into more rural patterns of life. Men took outdoor seasonal laboring jobs digging canals, building railroads or working in the lumber woods. Wherever they went, they carried songs.

02 Feb

Wearing of the Green

Oh, Paddy, dear, and did you hear the news that’s going ’round?
The shamrock is forbid by law to grow on Irish ground;
Saint Patrick’s day no more we’ll keep, his color can’t be seen,
For there’s a bloody law agin’ the Wearin’ o’ the Green.
I met with Napper Tandy and he tuk me by the hand,
And he said, “How’s poor auld Ireland, and how does she stand?”
She’s that most distressful country that ever you have seen,
They’re hanging men and women there for wearing of the green.

Then since the color we must wear is England’s cruel red,
Sure, Ireland’s sons will ne’er forget the blood that they have shed;
You may take the shamrock from your hat, and cast it on the sod,
But ’twill take root and flourish still, tho’ under foot ’tis trod;
When the law can stop the blades of grass from growing as they grow,
And when the leaves in summer time their verdure dare not show,
Then I will change the color I wear in my caubeen,
But till that day, please God, I’ll stick to wearing of the green.

But if at last our color should be torn from Ireland’s heart
Her sons in shame and sorrow from the dear old soil will part,
I’ve heard whisper of a country that lies far beyant the say,
Where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom’s day;
Oh, Erin, must we lave you, driven by a tyrant’s hand,
Must we seek a mother’s welcome from a strange but happy land!
Where the cruel cross of England’s thralldom never shall be seen,
And where, in peace, we’ll live and die, a-wearing of the green.

We have a Minnesota text this month for the long-popular Irish patriotic song “The Wearing of the Green.” Dublin-born stage singer and theatrical innovator Dion Boucicault composed this song in 1865, borrowing the “wearing of the green” refrain, the last half of the first verse and possibly the melody from an existing song dating to the 1798 rebellion. The earlier song, as printed by H. Halliday Sparling in Irish Minstrelsy (c. 1887), has the protagonist fleeing to France where Napoleon himself asks “How is old Ireland and how does she stand?” Boucicault moved the land of refuge to America: the land “far beyant the say, where rich and poor stand equal in the light of freedom’s day.”

Though lovers of traditional songs sometimes lose interest when a song is revealed to have originated on the commercial stage, there is much to be learned and appreciated from the context of these songs. The late, great scholar of Irish-American song Mick Moloney says Boucicault, an international superstar in his day, “single-handedly upgraded the popular image of the Irish male in this country during the 1860s.” At a time when stereotypical, buffooning Irish characters dominated American popular theater, Boucicault was on a crusade against this brand of what Dr. Eoin McKiernan would dub “shamroguery” a century later. Stephen Watt quotes Boucicault as saying:

The fire and energy that consists of dancing around the stage in an expletive manner, and indulging in ridiculous capers and extravagances of language and gesture, form the materials for a clowning character, known as the ‘Stage Irishman,’ which it has been my vocation to abolish.
Watt Stephen. 1991. Joyce, O’Casey and the Irish Popular Theater. 1st ed. Syracuse N.Y: Syracuse University Press.

Minnesota singer Michael Dean sang a few songs that reveled in stereotypes denigrating Irish immigrants alongside many other songs that preserved the dignity of his fellow Irish-Americans. His repertoire is a fascinating blend of older traditional songs and stage hits from his lifetime. He left only the above text for his version of this one so I have adapted it to a version of the usual melody as printed by Alfred Perceval Graves in The Irish Songbook.