song - evergreentrad

09 Mar

The Peddler

Oh of all the trades that’s going sure a peddler’s my delight,
For if he rambles all the day he’ll comfort you at night,
With his little pack upon his back he’ll travel to and fro,
And he’s called the jolly rover wherever he will go.

He roams throughout the nation his pleasure to divert,
With youthful recreation for to delight his heart,
And courting pretty fair maids through market-town and fair,
His life it gaily passes free from all strife and care.

He’s a weaver in Londonderry-o, a shoemaker in Strabane,
Hair merchant in Limavady and a brewer in Coleraine,
Where he does brew good humming ale and love a pretty maid,
And when he gets in to Belfast, he’s a butcher by his trade.

In Lisburn he’s a joiner, a glazier in Lurgan town,
In Dromore he’s a brazier and a smith in Portadown,
In Armagh he’s a piper, a merchant in Newry town,
And when he comes to Drogheda he draws good ale that’s brown.

Oh as he does roam the nation, his fancy to pursue,
Changing his occupation for every place that’s new,
Oh kissing pretty fair ones wherever he will roam,
And still at night his love is true when he’ll return home.

This month’s song comes from a 1938 recording of Andrew E. Gallagher (1878-1939) of Beaver Island, Michigan. There were multiple Gallagher families on the island including that of the great singer Dominick Gallagher whose songs I’ve written about before and whose father came from Arranmore Island, Co. Donegal. Andrew’s father and mother (a Roddy) both came from Rutland Island (aka Inishmacadurn), a smaller island between Arranmore and the mainland. The musical Bonner family on Beaver Island also originated from tiny Rutland Island.

“The Peddler” appears as “The Jolly Rake of All Trades” in a London broadside published before 1844 and was printed later in the 1800s in Dublin. I have found no evidence of the song being collected from a singer anywhere other than Beaver Island. It is similar to, and may even have been the inspiration for, the more popular “Dublin Jack of All Trades.” Unlike that locally-focused song, the “Jolly Rake/Peddler” travels, works and womanizes all around Ireland. Gallagher only sang verses one, three and five above. Several more verses covering the breadth of Ireland appear in broadsides available online through the Bodleian Library and I chose two (“He roams…” and “In Lisburn…”) to fill out the version here.

09 Mar

George Riley

When I arrived in the County Antrim,
To view the banks of sweet harmony,
I espied a damsel so fair and handsome,
You would really have thought she was the queen of May.

I stepped up to her, I did salute her,
I gently asked her to be my wife,
Most modestly she made me an answer,
“Kind sir, I choose a sweet single life.”

“You fair young creature, you pride of nature,
What makes you differ from all female kind?
Your cherry cheeks, your eyes like amber,
It seems to marry you must incline.”

“’Tis youth and folly makes young folks marry,
And when you’re married, then you must obey,
Since what can’t be cured must be endured,
So farewell, Riley, I am going away.”

We have another song this month from the fascinating repertoire of Carrie Grover (1879-1959) of Maine. Grover learned this song from her Irish-Canadian mother while growing up in Nova Scotia. The above transcription is my own based on a recording of Grover made in 1941 by Sidney Robertson-Cowell that is archived at the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress.

Grover’s “George Riley” is a pared down variant of a relatively common Irish song “O’Reilly from the County Leitrim/Kerry/Cavan” (the county changes from version to version just as Grover’s version moves it to County Antrim). Most Irish versions include the man’s wish to have his beloved “in Phoenix Island” or to sail her “over to Pennsylvania.” The only other North American version I have tracked down is one from a remote fishing village in Labrador which is similar to the Irish texts. Grover’s is short and to the point and she uses a melody unique from what I found in Irish collections.

22 Nov

The Gallant Brigantine

As I rode ashore last Sunday from my gallant brigantine,
In the island of Jamaica where I have lately been,
And carelessly I wandered, not caring where I went,
And toward a rich plantation my steps I slowly bent.

And the orange trees decorate the field with green and yellow buds,
And occasionally my mind is filled with melancholy thoughts,
That when I get tired of rambling I would sit me down and rest,
And I was thinking of the little ones at home, the land that I love best

Now my parents live in harmony, they are laboring at their ease,
But I am doing my foolishness to plough the raging seas,
And I am doing my foolishness to ramble night and day,
Now I’ll sing a song of old Ireland for to drive dull care away.

And when my song was at an end, I was a-feeling at my ease
I arose to pick some oranges that grew upon the trees,
And there a female form I spied that filled me with delight,
She wore the robes of innocence, her dress was snowy white.

Her dress was snowy white, my boys, bound round and trimmed with green,
And a silken scarf around her neck her shoulders for to screen,
Her hair hung o’er her shoulders as black as any sloes,
And her rolling eye attracted me, her cheeks were like the rose.

I modestly saluted her saying, “Good morning, my pretty fair maid,”
And with a kind reception, “Good morning sir,” she said,
I told her I was a sailor that lately came from sea,
And that I belonged to that brigantine that laid anchored in the Bay.

And we both got down together and we chatted for a while,
And I told her many a hard old yarn which caused her for to smile,
But when I arose to leave her, she gave me this address,
“You call in and see my husband, he will treat you to the best.”

Then I was kindly introduced to a noble-looking man,
Who kindly saluted me and took me by the hand,
And the wine was on the table and the dinner was served up soon,
And we all sat down together, spent a jovial afternoon.

The “Old Songs That Men Have Sung” column that ran in the October 20, 1922 issue of the pulp magazine Adventure (pictured) included the following request sent in by one of the column’s many avid readers:

Michael Dean (the same Irish-Minnesotan featured often in this column) was one of hundreds of American and Canadian readers of “Old Songs” who sang and pursued traditional folksongs with the help of the far-flung community of singers and amateur collectors brought together by the column and its enthusiastic editors. Dean corresponded by letter with “Old Songs” editors Robert Frothingham and Robert Winslow Gordon as well as other “Old Songs” readers and contributors (the column ran song texts sent in by readers responding to published requests). In addition to published requests and contributions, Dean swapped songs with these people directly by mail. It was this correspondence that ultimately led to Gordon travelling by train with his wax cylinder recording machine to record Dean’s singing in 1924.

We do not know if Dean ever tracked down a complete version of “The Gallant Brigantine” (he did manage to get a version of “Paul Jones, the Privateer” and sing it for collector Franz Rickaby the following summer). The version above is transcribed primarily from Alan Lomax’s 1938 recording of Beaver Island, Michigan singer Johnny W. Green with a few tweaks inspired by other versions found in the Canadian Maritimes. It is a peculiar song with an almost punchline-like ending. Not the typical conclusion to a story like this!