Tag Archives: song

21 Nov

The Irish American Club

From the hills of County Kerry to the shores of Londonderry,
And from Galway Bay to Dublin and their numbers were not small,
Came each youthful boy and maiden, with health and beauty laden,
To uncles, aunts, and cousins who were settled in St. Paul.
We figured then quite clearly, there’d be others coming yearly,
So an Irish club was formed that our legends might survive,
Irish music, dance, and singin’ with mirth the hall was ringin’,
Gaelic football every Sunday we also kept alive.

It was healthy, wholesome living–music, dancing, taking, giving,
We were always looking forward, eager for the next event,
Telephones kept hummin’ about doings’ that were comin’,
We kept the boys and girls feeling happy and content.
Old timers watched us proudly and proclaimed in accents loudly
We were the best they ever saw in any park or hall,
With gestures and with glances they supervised the dances,
While sittin’ on the benches lined up along the wall.

And what with all the dances there was quite a few romances,
The wedding bells kept ringing through the summer and the fall,
And I know the angels blessed them as friends and kin caressed them,
When the ceremonies was over and we gathered at the hall.
There were some we watched them nightly, looking bashful talking quietly,
But a little drop of poteen worked magic I declare,
The shyful blush it vanished, the feeling blue was banished,
And they would exhibit talents we never knew was there.

With the officers commanding our club began expanding,
We did a mighty lot of good in a quiet and humble way,
The mission house was cherished, and the orphan house was nourished,
We shared the joys and sorrows of our people day by day.
But half the pride of living is the heart-felt joy of giving,
Our club has been rewarded with treasures more than gold,
We are known and are respected, and by rich and poor accepted,
And Christian Irish people keep flocking to our fold.

We all feel quite elated at how high our club is rated,
The part that I donated I feel is rather small,
It will always give me pleasure, fond thoughts I’ll always treasure,
Of friendships true and wholesome, cultivated in St. Paul.
We will prove our reputation to our people round the nation,
Let no jealousy or discord within our ranks prevail,
We’ll show our hospitality to every nationality,
And our fame will be re-echoed to the shores of Innisfail.

We bring things home to St. Paul, Minnesota this week for a fascinating local song composed by Irish immigrant Patrick Hill (1900-1980) who came to St. Paul from County Tipperary (by way of Canada) in 1923. Hill was one of the founders of the Twin Cities Irish American Club that was active here from the post-World War II years through the 1980s. He was also a fiddle player and a prolific poet.

The Eoin McKiernan Library, of which I am the director, is working on an exhibition on The Irish American Club. From newspaper research, we know the club held weekly, Saturday night dances at the Midway Club (1931 University Avenue) starting in 1949, moved most events to the Uni-Dale Commercial Club at 345 ½ University Ave. in 1953 and then moved again to Ford Union Hall at 2191 Ford Pkwy in 1962. Their activity seems to have tapered off after the 1960s though they were instrumental in some of the first Irish Festivals organized in the early 1980s.

Hill’s song captures the mission and story of the club quite well—painting a picture of Irish immigration in the post-war period that matches well with accounts I have read from Boston and other American cities.

If you or someone you know has knowledge or photos of the Irish American Club, please contact me (Brian Miller) at 651-245-3719 or library@celticjunction.org

21 Nov

Learning McFadden to Waltz

Clarence McFadden he wanted to waltz,
But his feet were not gaited that way,
So he saw a professor and stated his case,
And said he was willing to pay;
The professor looked down in alarm at his feet,
And he viewed their enormous expanse,
So he tucked on a five to his regular price,
For learning McFadden to dance.

One, two, three, just balance like me,
You’re quite a fairy, but you have your faults,
While your left foot is lazy, your right foot is crazy,
Now don’t be unaisy, I’ll learn you to waltz.

He took out McFadden before the whole class,
And he showed him the step once or twice,
But McFadden’s two feet they got tied in a knot,
Sure he thought he was standing on ice;
At last he got loose and struck out with a will,
Never looking behind or before,
But his head got so dizzy, he fell on his face,
And chewed all the wax off the floor.

When Clarence had practiced the step for awhile,
Sure, he thought he had got it down fine,
He went to a girl and asked her to dance,
And he wheeled her out into line;
He walked on her feet and he fractured her toes,
And vowed that her movements were false,
Poor girl went around for two weeks on a crutch,
For learning McFadden to waltz.

McFadden soon got the step into his head,
But it would not go into his feet,
He hummed “Maggie Murphy” from morning to night,
And he counted his steps on the street;
One night he went home to his room to retire,
After painting the town a bright red,
He dreamed he was waltzing and let out his leg,
And kicked the footboards off the bed.

Song collector Margaret MacArthur extended the amazing work of Helen Flanders with her collecting work in Vermont in the 1960s. I came upon this Irish music hall gem in amongst the digitized MacArthur recordings available through the Vermont Folklife Center. She recorded it from Winfred Landman of Brattleboro in 1963. Another more complete version (without its melody) appears in Ballads and Songs of Southern Michigan from the singing of Mrs. John Lambertson of Belding, Michigan just northeast of Grand Rapids who sang it for collectors Gardner and Chickering in 1931.

The earliest printing of the music hall original from 1890 lists M.F. Carey as its composer and is viewable online through the New York Public Library digital collection. In addition to entering into folk tradition, the song was recorded by several artists and was even sung by child star Shirley Temple in the 1939 film Susannah and the Mounties as she tries to teach a mountie to dance with a book balanced on his head!

My transcription above is a blend of the Lambertson text, the original song sheet and a rousing recording of Irish entertainer Patrick Kavanagh (no relation to the author?) who recorded it on a 78rpm record in the 30s.

20 Nov

The Three Hunters

Three men they went a-hunting, a-hunting went one day,
’Til they came to a monkey, as they were on their way.
Says the Englishman “A monkey!”
“Oh no,” says Scot, “Oh nay!”
Says Paddy, “That’s your grandfather and his hair is turning gray”

Look-a there, O there! Whack fol the day,
Look-a there. O there! Whack fol duh diddle-oh day.

Three men they went a hunting, a hunting went one day,
’Til they came to a haystack, as they were on their way.
Says the Englishman “A haystack!”
“Oh no,” says Scot, “Oh nay!”
Says Paddy, “That’s a Protestant church and the steeple is blowed away,”

Look-a there…

Three men they went a-hunting, a-hunting went one day,
’Til they came to a hedgehog, as they were on their way.
Says the Englishman “A hedgehog!”
“Oh no,” says Scot, “Oh nay!”
Says Paddy, “That’s a pincushion with the pins stuck in the wrong way”

Look-a there…

Paul Lorette of Manchester Center, Vermont told collector Helen Hartness Flanders that he learned this song in a lumber camp in East Wallingford, Vermont. He sang it for Flanders’ recording machine in April 1931 and that recording is now available via archive.org.

Songs based on the meeting of an Irishman, Scotsman and Englishman and their contrasting reactions to events (not unlike the many jokes built on that scenario) seem to have been popular throughout the North American woods. Like “The Three Nations” from Minnesota (Northwoods Songs #41) and “The Three Dreams” from New Brunswick (Northwoods Songs #99), Paddy gets the last word here.

This particular song is traced by folklorists all the way back to the 1600s where a version even appeared in the play The Two Noble Kinsmen co-authored by John Fletcher and William Shakespeare. Early versions (and a variant found in Eau Claire, Wisconsin in the 1920s by Franz Rickaby) don’t associate the three men with different ethnicities. Another Irishmen/Scotsman/Englishman version was collected in County Wicklow by Hugh Sheilds in 1960.  Flanders, in her book The New Green Mountain Songster, recalls hearing it sung “in Boston by an Irish youth in July, 1911. The singer was entertaining a group of professional ballplayers; after smoking six cigarettes at once, he burst into the song… He sang in so rapid a tempo that it was impossible to take down words or music.” The above transcription is my own based on the Lorette recording.