shipwreck - evergreentrad

10 Jan

Why Don’t My Father’s Ship Come In?

It was on a Christmas evening as I lay down to sleep,
I heard a boy of six years old on his mother’s knee did weep,
Saying “once I had a father dear who did me kind embrace
And if he was here, he would dry those tears flowing down my mother’s face”

Oh where is that tall and gallant ship that first bore him away,
With topsails soft and painted decks born by the breeze away,
While other ships are coming in splitting the icy foam,
Oh why don’t my father’s ship come in, and why don’t he come home?

Oh, dear son, your father has tarried for to cross the stormy sea,
The ocean and the hurricane sweeps he’ll never come back to me,
Dear son your father’s dead and gone to the home of the brave,
The stormy ocean and winter winds sweep o’er your father’s grave

Oh well I do remember when he took me on his knee,
And gave me all the fruits he bore from off that India tree,
He said six months he would be gone and here leave us alone,
But by those stormy winter winds, twelve months are past and gone.

Oh hush my darling little son your innocent life is done,
Now you and I are all that’s left for to lament and mourn,
You are the darling of my heart I will press you to my side,
And they rose their eyes to heaven and the son and mother died.

We return to Beaver Island, Michigan this month for a song from the repertoire of singer Johnny Green recorded by Alan Lomax during his 1938 visit to the island.

This dark and sorrowful lament for a father lost at sea appears in several collections across the north woods from the Canadian Maritimes to Ontario. Lomax’s recording of John Green is accessible via the Library of Congress website under the title (probably resulting from a mishearing of the first line) “Christmas Eve.”

Anita Best and Genevieve Lehr printed a version from Annie Green of Newfoundland in their book Come & I Will Sing You. Annie Green closed the song this way:

“My boy you’re the pride of all my heart,” as she pressed him to her breast,
And closed her eyes to the yonder skies where the weary ones find rest.

21 Oct

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.

02 Aug

When the Manistee Went Down

Farewell, old boat, and precious freight,
McKay and his staunch, strong crew,
No more at home shall the cargo wait,
For loved ones to come with you.
The work she did no other would do,
Success would the effort crown,
But oh! the anguish of waiting hearts,
When the Manistee went down.

CHORUS:
Oh! God, it must have been dreadful,
To freeze and then to drown,
In a storm on Lake Superior,
When the Manistee went down.

Fond memory oft will picture here still,
Her cabins and decks grow dear,
In a storm that made every fiber thrill,
McKay spoke words of cheer.
Farewell, old boat, and gallant crew,
Love will your memories crown,
Bot, oh! the darkness, pain and grief,
When the Manistee went down.

Another scene of horror,
Came when this deep, cold lake,
The schooner M. A. Hulbert, with,
Twenty brave, strong men, did take.
It was next they should lie beneath the wave,
When her ballast above were o’er,
But we long the helpless ones to save,
Whose voices we hear no more.

We have another song this month from the pen of James J. Somers who came to Duluth at age 17 from the Georgian Bay region of Ontario. He was in Duluth in November 1883 when the packet steamer Manistee left Duluth harbor for Ontonagon, Michigan never to return. Tragedy struck again that December when the schooner Mary Ann Hulbert, also out of Duluth, sank near St. Ignace Island at the northern end of Lake Superior.

As with most other songs in Somers’ book, he left us no melody for this one. Andy Irvine’s version of Pat Reilly came into my head when I was looking at Somers’ text so I have tried to adapt it to that melody here. I made a few edits to Somers’ words. The original, along with the rest of his book “Jim’s Western Gems” is available in digital form via archive.org.