Ballads and Sea Songs of Newfoundland- Greenleaf and Mansfield 1933
[The preface, contents (needs editing), introduction (needs editing) and abbreviations (not edited) are on this page. For now I'm putting on the raw text of ballads and sea songs 1-49 on two pages attached to this page. I will eventually put the rest of the texts on. Attached to this page on the left hand column are the first two pages of raw text, slightly edited, which are,
Page 1: Ballads 1-21 (Child ballads)
Page 2: Ballads and Sea Songs 22-49 (two Child related ballads, and assorted ballads and sea songs)
That's it for now, I'll return to this excellent book again,
R. Matteson 2014]
BALLADS AND SEA SONGS OF NEWFOUNDLAND
COLLECTED AND EDITED BY ELISABETH BRISTOL GREENLEAF
MUSIC RECORDED IN THE FIELD BY GRACE YARROW MANSFIELD
AND THE EDITOR HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS 1933
To
MOTHER AND FATHER, ELLEN AND CHARLES BRISTOL
AND MY HUSBAND, WILLIAM E. GREENLEAF
IN LOVING APPRECIATION
PREFACE
THIS book is a by-product of the so-called drudgery of school teaching. No one but a school-teacher could have obtained in so sbort a time a knowledge of the character and habit of thought of the Newfoundlanders, and there are some school-teachers I have met who could not have won the favor of the singers of these songs.
It is a tribute also to Dr. Grenfell's work, for the idea of such a book grew up from work under his summer mission. It could not have been carried out with the care and accuracy that have been shown except under the guidance of Martha W. Beckwith, Professor of Folklore at Vassar College. Other undergraduate courses in literature and in music provided useful technique. The collectors feel under the deepest obligations to Professor George Lyman Kittredge for his aid. The gay enthusiasm with which the venture was entered upon has developed into a very great sense of the honor of such collaboration and of the value of folklore material in ballad form.
The original venture, for which part of the expenses came as a contribution from Vassar College trustees, - Mr. Russell C. Leffingwell and others, - illustrates the attitude of the modern college in placing the product of learning as its main business, not confined merely to classroom routine.
In accepting the invitation of my two friends to write a brief preface, I do so in the hope that their venture may stimulate others to carry on this work, especially where fields equally new and uncultivated can be found. Western culture is not fully conscious of its heritage from the Old World, nor does it properly value the treasure trove in its own soil. There have been attempts in the past few years to assemble this material for undergraduate study, but much remains to he done before our acknowledged debt to the Old World is properly halanced by our own contributions.
H. N. MAcCRACKEN
May 26, 1932
________________
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
MANY people have given aid and counsel in the preparation of this book. We want to extend thanks to them all, and especially to the following: to President MacCracken and the Trustees of Vassar College for financing the Vassar College Folk-Lore Expedition to Newfoundland in 1929; to Dr. Martha Beckwith of the Vassar College Folk-Lore Foundation for help with the manuscript and for continued encouragement in the project; to Professor Dickinson of Vassar College for his invaluable scholarly aid with the music manuscript; to President Parsons and Librarian Blazier of Marietta College, Ohio, for the loan of the volumes of the Journal of American Folk-Lore from the Marietta College Library; to: Miss Jane Quackenbush for the use of the texts she collected in Newfoundland; to Mr. Gerald S. Doyle of St. John's, Newfoundland, for permission to reprint contributions from his pamphlet of old-time songs and poetry of Newfoundland.
To Professor Kittredge we are grateful [or his help in editing the texts. The many interesting references which he has added give the book a completeness otherwise impossible.
Lastly we are indebted to the men, women, and children of Newfoundland who in such friendly and patient fashion sang us their songs and showed us their dances. We shall ever hold in memory our happy days among them.
E. B. G. and G. Y. M.
__________________
CONTENTS
PREFACE . . . . . . Henry Noble MacCracken vii
INTRODUCTION. . . xix
A NOTE ABOUT THE MUSIC
1. LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF KNIGHT (CHILD, No. 4) .
2. LORD ROBERT (CHILD, No. 7) .
3. THE TWA SISTERS (CHILD, No. 10)
4. THE BONNY BANKS O' THE VIRGIE, O (CHILD, No. 14)
s. THE BEGGAR MAN (CHILD, No. 17)
6. FAIR FLOWERS O' HELIO (CHILD, No. 20)
7. LORD ATEMAN (CHILD, No. 53)
8. LORD THOMAS (CHILD, No. 73)
9. LADY MARGARET (CHILD, No. 77) .
10. AN UNQUIET GRAVE (CHILD, No. 78)
11. GIL MORISSY (CHILD, No. 83) . .
12. BARBREE ELLEN (CHILD, No. 84) . .
13. YOUNG BARBOUR; OR, THE SEVEN SAILOR BOYS (CHILD, No. 100)
14. THE BAILIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON (CHILD, No. 105)
15. THE KNIGHT AND THE SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER (CHILD, No. 110)
16. THE DARK-CLOTHED GYPSY (CHILD, No. 200) .
17. LOVELY GEORGIE (CHILD, No. 209)
18. JOAN AND JOHN BLOUNT (CHILD. No. 275).
19. THE GOLDEN VANITIE (CHILD, No. 286) .
20. THE LITTLE YORKSHIRE BOY (CHILD No. 283)
21. THE HIGHWAY ROBBER (CHILD No. 283)
22. WILLY TAYLOR.
23. POLLY OLIVER
24. DROWSY SLEEPER.
25. THE CASTAWAYS
26. ROGERS THE MILLER
27. WEXFORD CITY .. ..
28. THE MAIDEN WHO DWELT BY THE SHORE
29· THE ROSE OF BRITAIN'S ISLE
30. THE GREEN BUSHES
31. As I ROVED OUT
32. THE BLIND BEGGAR.
33· NANCY FROM LONDON
34. THE GHOSTLY LOVER
35· THE BOLD "PRINCESS ROYAL"
36. THE DARK-EYED SAILOR.
37. JOHNSON; OR, THE THREE RIDERS.
38. HANDSOME JOHN
39· THE DUKE OF ARGYLE . . . .
40. THE FIRST COME IN IT WAS A RAT
41. THE TWELVE APOSTLES
42. TURKISH MEN-O'- WAR
43. KELLY THE PIRATE.
44. BOLD WOLFE . .
45. THE MAN-OF-WAR PIECE .
46. SHORT JACKET . . . . .
47. TARPAULIN JACKET .
48. BROKEN-DOWN SPORT. . .
49. ABRAM BROWN THE SAILOR
50. TARRY SAILOR
51. FROM LIVERPOOL 'CROSS THE ATLANTIC
52. GOLD WATCH .
53. THE BOATSWAIN AND THE TAILOR.
54. THOMAS AND NANCY . . .
55. SQUIRE NATHANIEL AND BETSY .
56. WEXFORD CITY . . . . . .
57. SALLY MONROE . . . . . . . .
58. THE LASS THAT LOVED A SAILOR
59. NEAR TO THE ISLE OF PORTLAND
60. THE MINES OF AVONDALE
61. MARIA AND CAROLINE . . . .
62. THE SCOTCH LASSIE . . . . . .
63. GILDEROY . . . . . . . . . . .
64. THE PRETTY FAIR MAID WITH A TAIL .
65. WILLY VARE .
66. DOWN WHERE THE TIDE WAS FLOWING
67. PADDY AND THE WHALE
68. ERiN'S ISLE . . . . . .
69. ERIN'S GREEN SHORE.
70. THAT DEAR OLD LAND .
71. BURKE'S DREAM .
72. THE WATERFORD BOYS
73. THE DRUNKARD'S DREAM
74. AT THE FOOT OF THE MOUNTAIN BROW
75. THE NOBLEMAN'S WEDDING
76. I ONCE LOVED A GIRL IN KILKENNY . . .
77. THE HUMBLE VILLAGE MAID GOING A-M1LKING
78. MAURlCE KELLY.
79. THE PLOWBOY. . . .
80. SOLDIER BOY
81. WATERLOO
82. NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL TO PARIS
83. NAPOLEON THE EXILE
84. THE BONNY BUNCH OF ROSES
85. THE PLAINS OF WATERLOO
86. GLENCOE . .
87. THE MANTLE 0F GREEN
88. LONELY WATERLOO . .
89. JOHN O' THE MOOR
90. RILEY TO AMERIKY . .
91. WILLY REILLY.
92. MARY NEAL .
93. THE SQUIRE'S YOUNG DAUGHTER
94. HENRY CONNORS
95. THE BONNY YOUNG IRISH BOY . .
96. YANKEE LAD ....
97. RICH AMERICKAY
98. THE LAMENT. . . .
99. THE POOR FISHERMAN'S BOY
100. THE LITTLE SOLDIER'S BOY.
101. LOVELY ANNIE
102. I WAS JUST SIXTEEN
103. SUSAN STRAYED THE BRINY BEACH
104.. THE QUAY OF DtThil)OCXES
105. THE BANKS OF 'DIE DIUY
106. THE OULD PLAID SHAWL
107. THE PRENTlCE BOY
108. BUTTER. AND CHEESE AND ALL
109. THE IRISHMAN'S SHANTY
110. PADDY BACKWARDS ....
111. THE "LADY URI" .....
112. THE SHIRT AND THE APRON
113. THE GENTLE BOY
114. Ta.E FIEEllASON'S SONG . .
115. THE SPIRIT Soxc OP GEORGE'S B.u."X
116. THE BANKS OF NEWFOUNDLAND.
1I7- So.·c ABOl"T THE F:rsm:xc BA~"X.S
118. ThE .. !Am OP ~El\"'F01nt.'l).I..U"D •
119. WAD8AM'S SoXG •••••••••
120. 1'R:E LoW-BACD:D CAR • • • • . •
121. TIlE DtOy.-o OF BOLD SBAIlEllEN •
122. COlO: ALL YE JOLLY Ia:.HIDolEJls •
123. 1'BE EALIXG CRClSE OF THE "Lo~'E FLlEll"
124- CHANGE lSIA.'-ns So.'C . • . • •
125_ lAa WAS EV'av L'iCH A SArtOR. . • • •
126. Lt.-xEY·s BOAT. . . . . . • . . . • • .
127. G.u:EDY liA.R.BOUR . . . . . • • . . . .
128. ThE lJus.u SAnOR Boy. . . . . . . • .
I29. GEORGE'S BANK (SUNG BY D. ENDACOTT) .
130. GEORGE'S BANK (SUNG BY M. WALSH). .
131. JACK IIINKS •.•.....•...••
132: ThE RYANS AND THE PITTMANS .•.••••
133. THE BL001lING BRIGHT STAR OF BELLE ISLE •
134. THE STAR OF LOGY BAY •.••..••
135. ALL AROUND GttLN lsLAND HOR • • •
136. TnE (h.-TII.ulIoR Pu....'\"TD. • • • • • • •
137. THE SPANISH CAPTAIN .
138. 'I'B:E Wu:.ex. OF DIE STEAMSlIIP "ETHIE JI
139. TIn: .. SoL"'TIIDL'\ CRoss". . • • • . • . .
140. TJu: "'UCK: OF THE STE.AMSID.P "FLOIUZEl!'
141. 'I'B:E FISJJ:nKL.'" OP NEl\'TOm.."DLA.:."m; OR, THE GOOD SHIP
142. THE ". 'ORDn:LD" Ali]) THE "R..u.!:Icn" ..
143. 1H:E hTaORWA.LDS:E.s" ••••••••••
144. 'T'1u: BaD ROCKS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
145. CAnAlS' WILLIAll JACIOlAN, A NEWl"Om..'DLU."D HEllO.
146. TnJ: .. GREENLumII DISASTER.14'. 'IRE DOG Sase . . . . . . . . Jor
148. TIm COOKS OF TOUAY .. . . 303
149. 'Ii1.E ?t.fE1l.ca..u.'TS OF FOGO . . . . . . 304-
150. 1'H:E ROV~G N'E'\\-70tJlI,;"])LA."roUS (ADVE...vruu: so."c) 306
151. Tm: FlLu.-= ExPmmo". . 308
152. NEWFOUNDLAND AND SEBASTOPOL • . 311
153. Tm: MUJU>D< OF YOUNG SOLDIERS . . 3'3
154. My DEAR, I'll Bom.'"D Fall CA.."'ADY . 314
155. COD LIVER On. SONG .. . . 3.6
156. ThE ScnOOllo'"ER. "l\!A.Ry ANN". 317
157- DOSAIJ> .MO~""OE • • • • 318
158. Fu:Lo"·G . . . . . . . . 3'9
159· Tm; LUKBEJl CAIlP Saxe. 321
160. ThE BADGEIt DRIVE 324 .6,. Twn; LAns .. 327
16,. FLutay Dt'~'"X • • • 329
163. YOUSG l\IO~"'OE . . 331
164. PETEIl HDmLY • . 334
165. 1I00lEW.uD BOL""":\'"D . 336
166. SALLy BROWX . • . 337
167. HAUL oS nn: BO'LINE . 338
.6& JOLLY POKn . . . . . 339
169. P2ETrY JESSIE OF 1lIE R.m.WAY BAll 340
170. LoXGEST NAll£ 50xG . J.45
17[. LAuCI:ID'G SONG . . . . 346
172, YOUNG QlAlU.OTTE. . . . . . . • 341
173. THE II FLYIXG CLOUD" . . . . . . 349
174. BOLD McCAllTHY •••••••• 354
175. JOHN MORRlSSEY AND ME BLACK. 355
176. Tm: Twu:E OLD JEWS. • • . • • 357
17'1. CALIPOD;lAN BROTB..ERS . . . . . 350
'78. YOUNG Jnorv AND THE OPncu . 36.
179. WHILE THE Boys IN BLUE WERE FIGHTING 361
180. FLORILLA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 365
181. 1'1( LoX.ESOlLE SINCE MY MOTHER DIED 367
182. THE FATAL WEDDING .. . . . . . . . . . 368
183. Tm: ROVlNG NEWFOUNDLANDERS (NEWFOUNDLAND WARS) 369
184· JOHN GILLAll'S SoNG (wrmOUT WOlIDS) 371
185. WOw::E.N'S THE JOY Al\""D 'DIE PIIDE 01' m:£ LAliD 372
DANCE TUNES
186. QCAOlW.1.ES
187. C<mu.o" F.GUIES .
188. JIGS
189. STEP DANCES . .
INDEX OP FIRST LINES
INDEX OF TUNES
1. LADY ISABEL AND THE ELF KNIGHT
4-. THE BONNY BAND 01" '[BJ; VIRGIE, 0 .
S. Tu.E BEpdAlUlAN. . . . . .
6. FAIR FLOWERS OF HELIO. .
10. AN UNQUIET CRAVE, A, B .
13. YOUNG BARBOUR, A, B, C .
16. T8::E DAi.It-cLOTBED GYPSY .
20. TIn: l.rrn.E YORKSHIRE BOY
22. WnLY TAYLOR .••
23. POLLY OUV£R., A, B.
24. DROWSY SLEEPER • • . • .
25. THE CASTAWAYS ••
27. W£XF02D CITY ..•....
28. Tm: :1.Lun£N 'WHO DWELT BY THE BOltE
20· T8.E ROSE OF BRITAIN's lsu
30. ThE G.R.E..E."J BUSHES . . .
31. AS I ROVED OOT.
33· NANCY nOM LoNDON, AlB.
34. 1'uE GHOSTLY LoVER .
35. TaE BOLD H PuxCESS RoYAL JJ
3;· JOII-,"5O.·; o.a, THE Tmt.n: Rmus, A, B
39· 1B:E DUD: 01" AICVLE . • .
44· BOLD WOLFE
46. SnORT JACKET. .
49- AuILUf. BROWN 'DIE SA.u.OR •
50. TAIlRY SAu.oa _ . •
SI. FROM Ln'EllPOOL 'CROSS TEl: .'\TIA..'JIC
52· GoLD WATQI . . . . . . . . .
54· THOUAS A.'ID NA.'lCY •
55· SQUlR.E NATBANIEL A1\'l) BETSY •
58. TUE LAss TllAT LOVED A SAILOR
6,. Tm: ScoTOI LAssIE, A, B ....
63· CUJ)EIf.OY . . . • . . • • • . •• .
64. Tm: Purry FAIt MAm WITH A TAIl..
66. Dows "'"HERE THE TmE WAS FLOWING
67. PADDY AND THE WIlALE .
-60· ERIN'S G.R.EEN SHORE ••
70. l'nAT DEAR. OLD !.AND .
11. B11a.Ia.'s DJl.E.U(. . ..
73· 'l.lm DaID-"EAm's DRJ'..A}(. • . . • • • •
74· AT THE FOOT OP DIE MOID."TAIN Baow •
75. TID: ?\'OBI.E.MA......S WEDDING •...••...•
77. TuE HUYBLE VILLAGE .M.Am GoING A-?tfu.K.ING
78. MAURICE KELLY. . . . . . .
81. WATE.II.OO •••••••••
83· NAPOLEOY 1lIE EXII.E • . . .
4 Tm: Bo~-"y BUNOI 0' ROSES
85· Tm: Pun... 0' WATERLOO
SQ. JENl'o'IE ON TIlE Moo». 180
91. WII.LY REILLY. 184
93. 1'KE SQUaE'S YOUNG DAUGHTEJl IS9
95. ThE BO~'NY YOUNG 1JusH BOY 192
96. YA.~ LA..NO. • • • • • 194
97. RIOI A.lr:DuxAv . . 195
10.;. TJu; QuAY Of' D1TNDOCXEN • 208
lOS. 1'B.E BANKS OF THE DIZZY • 2tO
I IS. THE SPlRIT SoNG OF GEORGE'S BA1o"X 227
uS. 'IKE MAID 01' NEWPOm."D[..A1.,"I) • . . 233
121. TaE c..OWD OF BOLD SB:AIE.xL"'i' • . 240
IJ:J. 'I'B:E Suu.....c CRUISE O:F THE uLo1lo"E FUEJr." 246
124. CB.A.sCE lsu..'''DS SoXG . . • '5°
125. JAa "'AS EV'.RY L...ca A SAILoR . 'st
126. Luuy's BOAT. '2
J 27. Gu:EDY HAR..aOUlt
128. THE !JusB: SArLoa Boy. . • • .
IJO. GEORCE'S BA.''I. .......•
IJ2. TIm Rv,cos A..W THE PI:rnlA.'s • •
133- T'H£ BLOO:wIXG BRIGHT STAR 01' BELlE IsLE .
134. THE STAR OF Looy BAY ••••
J37. THE SPAl\'lSH CAPTAIN .• . •••...•
138. TIlE Wa.ECX OF THE 5TEAKSHIP II ETHlE II • •
139. TIu "SotI'TIJDtN CRoss" .....••.••
140. ToE WRECK OP TIlE STE.UISBIP "FLo2J.Z£L" .
141. Tm: FIsKEallES OF KEWFOUNDLA.'''D; OR, THE GooD SHIP
U )UBIL£.E II • • • • • • • • •
14'. Tnr.: uNORDFEU>" AND THE lIRALEIGH".
144. TnE BIRD ROCKS • • . . •
146. '1"'Iu; .. GREENLAND" DISASTER
1St. TnE FJt.A.."l1a.IN ExPEDmos ..
156. TRE SCHOONER. u:\wv ANN"
roo. 'DiE BADG.£.R DRIVE
r61. TwIN LAKES ••.
r63. YOUNG MOr..'"ROE .
r65. HOM.:EWARD BOUND •
166. SALLY BROWN
167. HAUL ON THE Bo'IJ1.;""E
r68. JOLLY POUR ....
16g. PllETrY JESSiE OF mE RAn.WAY BAll, A, B .
I1J. Tu..E "FLYING CLOUD" ..•
176. THE TllJl£E OLD JEWS.
18J. THE ROVING NEWFOID;"DLANDDS
184. JOHN GIl.LA..K'S SoNG.
186. QUADIllLLES •••
187. COTlLLOS FIGUUS •
r88. JIGS.
ISg. STEP DANCES
-----------------
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIO S
1. ThE VASSAR COLLEGE FOLK-LORE ExPwmoN TO NEWPOUND-
.FOUNDLAND. 1929 . . Opp.
2. Twn.uNGATE . xxviii
3· TIlE uSAGONA II A1I;"I) HER CAPTAIN . xniv
4· N'E\',"'FOtJ1l,:"DLAND SIXGERS
5· Sr.~GE1S OF Fun DE Lvs 142
6. TaE SEALL~G CRtiISE OF TB.E .. LoSE FLIER" 248
7- HOUSE·:W:Ovn;C BY ?tIA......-POwu. M;]) Soxe 340
8. ~ -E,,"YOL"'1\"DLA.'"D DAn:ns 376
--------------
INTRODUCTION
TEN years ago it was my good fortune to be a summer volunteer teacher for Dr. Wilfred Grenfell's Mission. I was assigned to a school in an isolated fishing village on tbe West Coast of Northern Newfoundland. The experience was so novel and delightful that I went again the next summer. Among the many attractions of life there, was that common form of entertainment among Newfoundlanders even to-day - tbe singing of ballads and folk-songs which finally furnished the material of this book.
One night I came home from evening school and found the family as usual waiting up in the glow of the little wood-burning stove, with its low fire-box and its round oven up above in the chimney. Aunt Fanny Jane brought me a delicious pork bun and a glass of milk. While I was eating, Uncle Dan Endacott offered to sing me a song. I listened without particular interest, until it suddenly dawned upon me that he was singing a real folk-song, one handed down by oral tradition. At college I bad listened delightedly to ballads as I bad heard them sung by the Fuller sisters, Professor Jobn Lomax, and others, not expecting ever to bear them sung by one of the folk.
From that night I never bad a chance to be lonely or homesick, for I spent my leisure time listening to the songs and writing them down. No pupils of mine worked harder learning to write than I to record the tunes they sang.
That fall I mentioned my discovery to President MacCracken of Vassar College, and sang him "Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight." He sent me to Dr. Martha Beckwith of the Vassar Folklore Foundation, and they both urged me to go on collecting during the next summer. I did so, and gathered about thirty songs, one of them "Hind Hom," rarely recorded from this side of the Atlantic. Then, in the words of the song, "Cupid did my heart beguile," I married, and school teaching and ballad collecting retired to the background of my thoughts. At last, however, the time came when I could carry out my wish to visit Newfoundland again, and make a morecomplete collection of the ballads and songs known there. Dr. MacCracken and Miss Beckwith aided in every way, both as experienced and able scholars and as personal friends. Miss Grace Yarrow (who is now Mrs. Harvey Mansfield), a trained musician (Vassar, 1927), consented to accompany me to record the music-- a task for which I did not feel fully competent. The result was the organization of the Vassar College folklore expedition to Newfoundland in the summer of 1929, and the publication of this book of Newfoundland ballads and sea songs.
It was at the tiny harbor of Port aux Basques that I first set foot on the island of Newfoundland. We landed early one June morning after an overnight voyage from North Sydney on Cape Breton island. I gazed at the hazy blue sea and horizon, at the low gray weather-beaten rocks which formed the harbor and most of the country, and at the wonderfully brilliant green which showed wherever there was any soil at all. The air was fragrant and incredibly still. I felt a long, long way [rom New York and noise and rush. It was the summer of 1920, and I was one of forty members of the Grenfell party to take the narrow-gauge train to Curling, where four of us young teachers bound for the West Coast stations were to leave the workers who went on to the East Coast and Labrador. We proceeded up the lovely valley of the Codroy River, one of the best salmon and trout fishing districts on the island. Mile after mile we stared at the flat expanses of marshlands which fonn so large a part of the surface of Newfoundland j hour after hour we passed among evergreen trees on hill slopes, repeatedly crossing clear-running trout rivers, alluring to the imagination. At last, with a double twist and shake, the train ran out along the side of a hill, and slowed down as if to enjoy the marvelous panorama of Bay of Islands, spread below.
Curling was an important town, even then, as a tourist resort for trout and salmon fishers, as a railroad and steamship centre for all West Coast commerce, and as headquarters for the herring fleet. It was a fairly old settlement, with well-kept schools and churches, wealthy trading establishments and stores, a bank, and several hotels. Since then, a huge mill for manufacturing newsprint paper has been built at Cornerbrook, two miles up the river, and Curling now has electric lights, an electric commuting train, taxicabs, a golf course, and an American air of quick movement and prosperity. Like many villages on the West Coast of North Newfoundland, Sally's Cove has no harbor where even one wharf can be built. The shore is straight and exposed to the heavy west winds which pile the waters of the Gulf of St. Lawrence upon the land. Each of the houses built in a row along the cohble heach has a boat drawn up in front by means of a rope, pulleys, and a wooden windlass. The whole family line up on the capstan bar - usually the peeled trunk of a
[pics]
small fir-tree - and walk it round until the boat is heaved up. When it blows, as it may for a week. at a time, the boats can neither be launched nor landed through the heavy surf. The only road from the safe harbor of Bonne Bay; thirteen miles to the south, is a swampy mucky trail, quite impassable for wagons until frozen and covered with snow, when teams of dogs draw the comatiks up and down the coast. Thrown thus upon their own resources, the villagers of the northern peninsula maintain to this day the modes of thought and many of the customs of their old homes in England and Ireland, meeting lires problems with traditional rather than scientific knowledge, and enjoying life's pleasures in time-honored folkways, and this statement with some modifications is true for all Newfoundland. I was carried ashore through the surf, that first night at Sally's Cove, in Uncle Dan Endacott's arms, and fell asleep that night in a tiny room of New England simplicity and comfort with the strange bright stars of the North glittering on the horizon and the sea and the evergreens scenting the air. Bands of young men who had come to take a look at "teacher" marched up and down outside singing "Thomas and Nancy" in strange and thrilling cadences, marking the rhythm with the clumph, clumph of heavy boots.
In Sally's Cove the men earn money by fishing in spring and summer and by working in the lumber camps in winter. They do some hunting and trapping and help with the berry-picking. They harvest enough hay to keep a few animals over the winter, principally cows, horses, and sheep, - and they bring in wood to keep the little wood-stoves glowing through the cold months. They build their own houses and barns, make their own boats and occasionally furniture, work on the roads, - with little apparent result, - and fashion snowshoes, which they call "raquets," fishing gear, and lobster traps. They get a small catch of codfish in the spring and of herring in the fall, but lobstering is the chief fishery. Each family has its own cannery, a mere unpainted wooden shed with fireplace and kettle, a workbench for packing the cans, and a patent sealer for closing them. The government licenses and inspects these canneries to see that sanitary conditions are maintained. I have met two of these inspectors, and they were fine men with a keen sense of their duty and a kindly manner of enforcing their standards.
Women contribute greatly to the support of the family. They milk the cows and do the gardening, with some help from the men in the heavy spading. Plots are too small in Newfoundland to make plows efficient. They shear the sheep and spin the woolen yarn and knit it into "inside clothes," Guernseys (which we call Jerseys), stockings, or mittens. They make quilts for the beds and hooked mats to cover the floors, and some of the designs are really beautiful. They also help the men with the haying, berry-picking, and lobster canning.
Soon after my arrival at Sally's Cove a girl was married and I was asked to be one of the "bridesgirls" at the wedding. The Church of England clergyman was brought by the groom from eighteen miles away. Each of us bridesgirls wore her best dress and pinned on a "bride knot" (pronounced "brim knot") of silver leaves and flowers given her by the bride. The bridesboys wore similar sprays in their lapels. The procession started at the bride's home and proceeded to the schoolhouse. First carne the bridesgirls and bridesboys in pairs, and then the bride and groom and their families. Other villagers and young men carrying guns walked beside the procession. Round-eyed children stared and ran ahead to stare again. After the ceremony the bridal party was the last to leave the church, and we paced slowly back to the bride's home between two lines of people who were laughing and calling out to each other, while the young men made the air hideous by shooting of their guns as close to the bride and groom as they could get. This old-time marriage custom, Alice Earle says, is due to the fact that, in the old country, using firearms was a privilege granted exclusively to Protestants hence the Protestant Scotch-Irish loved to fire off guns at such occasions as weddings, just to show that they could.
To raise money for the schoolhouse and the church, the Sally's Cove people held a "toime" on Orangemen's Day, which took the form of an all-day fair and was held in the schoolhouse. It had been widely advertised, and, as the day by good fortune was calm and fair - "Please God, we'll have civil weather for our toime," they said - motor boats brought loads of men, women, and children from other villages up and down the coast. A feature of the fair which brought in a substantial sum was that of the "guess cakes." Each unmarried girl in the village made a cake, in which she concealed some object. At intervals during the day, an auctioneer would hold up a guess cake, announce the name of the fair baker, and call for guesses as to what it contained. The men and boys paid five cents for each guess, and the one who guessed correctly got the cake. Some girls were so clever in putting in something unusual that the auctioneer was able to collect a couple of dollars or more before giving up the cake to the lucky guesser.
The first dance I attended in Sally's Cove was held in the from room of a house cleared of furnishings because the family was moving to Bonne Bay. It was lighted by two lanterns hung high on opposite walls. The men and boys moved about in the room or out in the yard until there was a call for the first dance to begin. Then the young men took their positions for the square dance and called for the girls to join them. After much hesitation and giggling, partners were lined up, the singer began his drone, and the dancers their figures.
Newfoundland square dances are similar to our old-fashioned reels, so popular just now, and are full of vigorous movement and rhythm. They can be very graceful when the four, eight, or sixteen dancers know their parts and have a sense of form and finish. When there is no one to play even on a jews-harp, some man has to furnish "chin-music." As a "set" may take half an hour to dance, endurance is one of the essential qualities of a good singer. The technique of the singing is something entirely dillerent from that of any other kind I ever observed. The singer thinks of the rhythm required for the first figure and commences to tap it out with heels and toes of both rubber-booted feet. Many people say that, if you tied a singer's feet down, he could not sing at all. A suitable tune soon comes to mind and he begins it, sometimes singing words, but more often vocables to carry the tune and mark the rhythm. The tunes are complicated with syncopations, rapid notes, slides, and turns, and the singer takes breath when he cao. Their effect is mesmeric and of all the dance tunes I heard, I was able to record but one correctly. The pitch is always true, and the masters of dance-song can sing for every other dance all the evening, conclude by favoring the company with a long ballad, and show no sign of hoarseness at the finish!
Of these singers for the dance Uncle Dan Endacott was the best. His voice was powerful enough to be heard without shouting. He kept a steady rhythm and had a stock of tunes large enough to furnish variety even for a long figure. Uncle Dan had once known upwards of three hundred songs. His father - "old Mr. Anty," as they called him - had also been a great singer in his youth. He was a lay reader and held the Sunday services when the minister was not in the village. He also kept the post-office and Uncle Dan carried the mail from Rocky Harbour, where the steamer left it, to Sally's Cove and to the scattered families en route. At Rocky Harbour lived Aunt Fanny Jane's mother and brothers, very strictly and soberly in the Puritan manner. Mrs. Walters senior was a beautiful woman with a face serene though deeply lined. Her husband had been drowned just before the birth of her last son, and the family had a hard struggle. Their little gambrel-roofed house was built by her eldest son when he was just sixteen.
Meals at the Endacott's house always hegan with the well-known Church of England grace said by Thomas, the youngest boy:
Be present at our table, Lord,
Be here and everywhere adored;
These mercies bless and grant that we
May feast in Paradise with Thee.
Just to write this brings to mind the picture of Uncle Dan, Joan, Thomas, and me round the little table with its white cloth, while Aunt Fanny Jane bowed her head as she stood behind us ready to fetch the food from the stove at its conclusion. There would be boiled salt codfish with excellent pork-and-onion sauce, potatoes from the garden, boiled turnip or cabbage tops, tea, bread and butter, and rhubarb pie or steamed pudding with "figs" as they called raisins, and molasses "cody" (sauce). At the end of the meal, as each one pushed back his chair, it was the custom to say, "Thank the Lord."
Newfoundlanders eat about five times a day in the summer time, when the days are long and they may be at work till all hours of the night. Iodeed, the Newfoundland national ceremony is the "mugup," by which they mean any little food eaten between meals, and I have never seen an American who did not know and practice the rite after a week or so on the island.
A few folk-ways came under my observation at Sally's Cove. One night the heavens were covered with broad bands of light purple, rose, white and even green - waving to and fro like gorgeous theatre curtains blown out over the footlights. Aunt Fanny Jane told me that no one should sing or play music when the Northern Lights were out, or the Lights would come down and strike the player dead. A drunken fiddler once presumed to go outside and fiddle right in the face of the aurora. The Lights swooped closer and closer, till, with a cry of terror, the man threw away bis fiddle and dove in among the sheep which were huddled under the building.
The people showed me a letter, supposed to have been written by Christ, which must have been the same mentioned as puzzling the Newfoundlanders in 1895.
In very old days an officer and two seamen from a man-of-war had been attacked by bears and killed while filling water-casks at a cold spring on Bear Point. Uncle Dan had seen the ghost of the officer dressed in a handsome blue cloth uniform.
As the nearest doctor was fifteen miles away, home remedies were used except in extreme cases. The skin disease known as the "arsipelas" was treated by spreading parched wheat flour on a pad of fleece from a black sheep and applying it to the affected parts.
Weather is of the utmost importance to the dwellers at Sally's Cove. Besides the usual signs for its forecast, they consulted the Milky Way, called "Maiden Vein" (or Vane or Vain), saying, of the fork at the southern end, "Well, we must see where the Maiden Vein opens tonight, so we'll see where the wind will come from in the marnin'." They also listened to the waves along the beach; if they sounded at the north end, the wind would be "down" the next day, if at the south end, on the bar, it would be "up."
The people of Newfoundland are descendants of emigrants from Ireland and tbe South of England, with a smaUer number of Scotch and Welch, and a few settlements of French and part-French people. A village is usuaUy either all Protestant or all Catholic, according to the faith of the families who settled there first. In the larger towns both religions are represented. Intermarriage makes nearly all the population related. All British Newfoundlanders, except those who have been sent away to school in Canada or the United States, use an old form of the English language, which sounds strange but yet not unfamiliar to an American. They still use commonly expressions obsolete elsewhere which I recognized with a queer shock of pleasure as phrases explained in footnotes to Shakespeare. They would say "Come in, Tammas, and hapse the door, ies a bit airsome tonight." So, too, "wapse" is used for "wasp" "maid" for "girl" - or rather for"woman" as I have heard a grandmother addressed as "maid." Many of their names showed the effect of generations of oral rather than written usage. Uncle Dan Endacott was commonly called "Dan Anty," and Charles Maynard was "Char-les Mi-ner." A woman in Bonne Bay who spelled her name Cullihell was always spoken of as Mrs. Curryall.
People of one village will say that they can tell a man's district from his speech, but I was not able to distinguish these variations. The French inhabitants, whose district remains unvisited, apparently speak and sing either in French, if they have been sent to France for an education, or in a mixed dialect of French, English, and Indian called "Jack-a-tar." The songs and folklore of the aboriginal Indians, who belonged to tbe Micmac tribe, and of the early Spanish and Portuguese settlers, seem to have been lost in those parts of the country we visited. There are several settlements of Scotch who maintain their own songs and customs. Most of the villages, however, consist of the second or third generation of descendants of emigrants from England or Ireland. Many a sailor lad, rehelling against ship's discipline, has preferred the bleak and forbidding coast of Newfoundland to further hell afloat. Many an Irish family has chosen the emigrants' trail in order to escape famine or political trouble in Ireland, or in hope of owning their own homestead in Newfoundland, where land is still free to anyone who will fence and clear it. Visitors to the island in fishing vessels, especially of the English, have explored its coast and picked out sites for future homes, to which later they have brought over their wives and families, lured by the prospect of a life of self-reliance and independence. Passing one day in a motor boat a little sea islet, a gray rock, set like a gem in brilliant greens against the cold lead-colored ocean, we waved to some ragged children and a thin solitary figure of a woman. "There you are seeing the real Newfoundland," remarked Dr. Parsons. Not in St. John's, not in the cosmopolitan lumber towns, but on a lonely rock where firewood and even drinking water present serious problems, can we sense their passion for independence, which seasons their monotonous food and wraps their bodies against the chill air.
It was nine years later on the fourth of July, 1929, that Miss Yarrow and I, composing the Vassar College folklore expedition, stood on the top deck of the ship Fort St. George and gazed at the impressive but utterly barren cliffs which form the east coast of Newfoundland. The morning was very calm, brilliantly clear, and bitingly cold. A procession of dazzling icebergs paralleled the shore, as far as the eye could see, and here and there dark-sailed "skiffs" were making their way over the bright blue waters to the fishing grounds far off-shore. A deep narrow channel between towering cliffs forms a dramatic entrance to St. John's harbor. Many a despairing seafarer has tried in vain to gain that passage, only to be driven upon the cliffs by an easterly storm, or out to sea by a gale from the west. Gallant adventurers have been reported to the waiting world from the lookout in Cabot Tower on massive Signal Hill, - Brown and Alcock, the pioneers, flinging their tiny airplane towards Ireland in 1929, and Lindbergh taking his last bearings on this side of the Atlantic on that May evening in 1921. Some seventy years ago, another thrilling achievement was announced here, the laying of the first Atlantic cable, one of the great adventures of the last century. But of these world-famous events not a trace did we find in Newfoundland song. Is it because the ideas involved are too abstract, the machinery too complicated, and the actors not Newfoundlanders, that the song-composers are not inspired to sing? Or is it simply because folk-song follows traditional paths and cannot change its direction to celebrate alien marvels?
5t. John's is the seat of government for Tewfoundland, and it is there that one is most aware of the true Newfoundlander's feeling of patriotism and love for the island. We attended a War Memorial service in the Church of England cathedral and saw the parade of Newfoundland veterans who had volunteered for the cause of Old England in the World War. For an bour or so out of the city the railroad skirts the shores of the beautiful Concepcion Bay. The views are superb, though they give the impression of a wild, barren, and remote country. These long, sheltered bays are the nurseries for Newfoundland's deep-sea fishermen and sailors, men who, when blown half-way across the Atlantic in a gale, come home by way of the Barbados, bringing a cargo which makes a profitable voyage out of a disaster.
Here in Concepcion Bay was pointed out to us the steep-sided Bell Island, on which is the entrance to the largest iron mine in the world. The shafts run out under the fioor of the Bay, so that the miners work, not only under ground, but under water as well. Twillingate, on the east coast of North Newfoundland, was our base for collecting (or the next three weeks. From there we visited the northeastern coast centres - Fogo, Fleur de Lys, and Fortune Harbour. Twillingate is called the "capital of the north," and it deserves the name. It is a lively, up-to-date town, with a bank, a telegraph office, a wireless station, several large trading establishments, and a fair-sized fishing fleet. It has schools, churches, and the Notre Dame Bay Memorial Hospital, a large modem plant first imagined by Dr. Grenfell and become a reality hy the united effort of the people of Notre Dame Bay under the able leadership of Dr. Charles Parsons. There is a large fireproof main building with seventy beds, operating room, X-ray room, and so forth, and a nurses' home, a cottage for Dr. Parsons and the other staff doctors, a farm with vegetable gardens and high-bred stock, two boats, - one for carrying hospital freight and one a sailboat for recreation for doctors and nurses, - and, best of all, a dam which makes a lake to furnish an adequate water supply to provide the electricity for lighting the hospital and running the X-ray machine.
Dr. Parsons tried to take us over every mile of road on the two islands, from the lighthouse on the four-hundred-loot cliff to the marshlands on the opposite side, from which the dog-teams start out with the mail over the frozen bay in winter. The common sledge dog of Newfoundland is not a Newfoundland dog, nor yet an Esquimaux husky. He is a smaller dog, black and white, smooth-haired, but with a thick coat of hair something like an Airedale. He is usually friendly and well-behaved. It is the law in Newfoundland that each dog must be shut up. or else have a seven-pound clog of wood fastened by a chain to his collar. This is to prevent their fighting, killing sheep, getting into gardens, or taking fish off the Oakes. It gives them a funny lop-sided wall, but when they are excited they jump about as if it did not exist. On the Labrador, huskies are used. The fishing villages in East. 'ewfoundland are usually built very close together. with all the houses clustered on a point or at the bottom of a steep-sided cove. The green turf roadway is tightly fenced with peeled saplings, nailed upright to horizontal timbers, and the cows, sheep, dogs, pigs, and other animals live in the roadway. No one else but Dr. Charlie ever thinks of taking a car through these narrow lanes. Sometimes we would get through with less than six inches to spare, all the animals Oeeing before us with protesting noises, and sometimes we had to stop while a sledge-dog leader with great dignity roused himseli from his slumbers in the middle of the road.
How to convey the flavor of the warm sunny days at Twillingate. As I skipped along the rocky sheep-path to tbe hospital, I could hear brilliant music wafted to me from where Miss Yarrow was practicing in the sun-porch. At other times we dove off the wharf into the waters of the harbor with an iceberg in the offing. We walked miles to get the "Sealers' Song" from the lips of two of its twenty-nine composers, and every night we repaired to the cottage to sing over our finds. One day the noon hour found us on the wrong side of the harbor, and as Skipper Andrew Young rowed us across he asked, with the kindly interest in our work which was quite commonly shown us, if we had got the song about "Lukey's Boat." A man in St. John's bad spoken of it as "the funniest song ever I heard," so we told the skipper we were looking for it. He and his wife recited the verses they knew. The simple words "Lukey's boat" brought attention and a grin from several men at the hotel table, and they added a few lines. So here we have the words of the song considered the most humorous in Newfoundland the only song of its kind we collected), and the intriguing little tune that carries it. Our first side-trip from Twillingate was to Fogo, a fascinating place of considerable wealth and commerce, at the same time it retains
[pics]
many traditional customs. The harbor is deep and safe, two trading establishments dominate its shores, and as it lies right on the main sailing route between St. John's and the Labrador, Fogo has a very up-to-date and "sea-gain'" atmosphere. In the spring an airplane makes its base on the frozen ice of the harbor and scouts seals for the Fogo fishing fleet. A quarter of a mile away, the women are shearing sheep, carding wool, and spinning yarn, just as they have done for centuries. At the cod-oil refinery they turn out a superior product which they sell to Squibb & Co. I know it is superior, because I drank a spoonful and was not seasick, although we went right out of the harbor into a nasty lop with cross currents before making the quiet waters of the tickle at Change Island. On the return trip to Twillingate we visited Herring Neck, the Venice of Newfoundland, where they go to church in boats.
We felt a curious reluctance to start on our trip "down north." Our destination seemed remote, and the people were perfectly unknown to us both. But as we went along, we met, as usual, the same delightful courtesy and friendliness I had been shown when a stranger on the West Coast. On board the Clyde, which had brought us to Twillingate, we were surprised by the hearty welcome given us by officers and men. Through emerald tickles and around exposed headlands we steamed, with only the slightest swell to mark the sea. Gulls wheeled in clouds round their nests on the seaward cliffs, and Miss Yarrow sang to them from the bridge:
All day long o'er the waters I fly,
My white wings beating fast through the sky.
Seated there on the deck we partook of such fresh-cooked lobster as habitues of night-clubs have never tasted. From the boat-deek, as we lay once at a wharf, Miss Yarrow made a perfect dive into the water twenty feet below, then struck out for the wharf with a stroke that clove the waters like a flash. "Fastest I ever saw anyone swim," was Captain Butcher's tribute. Captain Butcher is a steadyeyed Newfoundlander who deserves a chapter all to himself. He has commanded the Clyde for years, and so successfully that some people boast she can smell her way round the bay in the heaviest fog without missing a port. Another morning we woke to find the Clyde running along a bleak coast of gray rock. Icebergs lay grounded near shore, the sun flashed on others farther out. Their chill struck through leather coat and fur collar. Vie were approaching Tilt Cove, a copper mine not actively worked at present. Between Tilt Cove and Shoe Cove we sat on the forward hatch and took down a song from a sailor. The result was "The Maid of the Mountain Brow," words and music recorded in less than one half hour. It was quick work, hut Shoe Cove is the last port on Notre Dame Bay, and we were to leave the Clyde there for Fleur de Lys, which was our final destination.
When we reached Sir Patrick Lewis's house, where we were to stay in Fleur de Lys, we found him and all his family hard at work cleaning and salting a record catch of cod he had taken on his trawls that day. He estimated it at eleven barrels, and this, at seven dollars a harrel, was a pretty good day's work. During the five days we stayed he caught about a hundred and fifty dollars' worth of fish. When the codfish run, the men work cruel hours. They rise about midnight and go out to the fishing grounds in their motor boats. First they catch a tuhful of a little sardine-like fish, called "capelin," for bait. Then they tie up the motor boat to an anchor and take the dory to work the trawl. This is a long line of light rope to which are fastened, at intervals of four or five feet, three-foot lengths of twine, each with a codhook at the end. The line is secured to anchors at both ends, so that it rests near the bottom where the cod feed. Usually a trawl fisherman has two or three lines out and goes hack and forth over them all day. If the cod have been running, he may have ten harrels of fish in the boat hefore starting for home about four or five o'clock. Every one of these must be split open, the livers thrown into a barrel, the other viscera through to the animals or tossed overboard. The cod are then washed, sprinkled with salt, and laid skinside up in great piles like cordwood lo corn for a few days. At the proper time they must be taken from this pile and spread out lo dry. The drying flakes, or platforms made of wood and floored with small tree-trunks from which the bark has been removed, and strewn with evergreen boughs, give the characteristic appearance to Newfoundland fishing villages.
All Fleur de Lys is perched on granite ledges, and there is not much soil. The harbor was named lrom three round cliffs which lrom a ship out at sea appear like the Iamous emblem of France. When they look most like the fiower, the ship is abreast of the harbor entrance and can come straight in. The French had fishing rights on this shore lor many years. Their ships would arrive early in the spring, they would fish and dry their catch during the summer, and, on a certain day filed by law, set sail again for France. Sometimes a French lad would lose his heart to one of the Fleur de Lys girls and desert his ship rather than leave her behind. The Newfoundlanders are the happiest people in the world," said Mrs. Noftall to me one day, and, in spite of the poverty evident in many villages, I think she has grounds for her statement. The men are free to begin work and to quit work when they please, without a boss or a time-clock; they pay no land-tax, as the revenue of the country is raised on imports; the standard of living is low, so that a man of twenty can give his bride a home built by his own hands and thus satisfy both her own and her parents' expectations.
Friends are always asking how we went about it to get people to sing for us. We found them generally ready for the asking. A group of small boys in Fleur de Lys entered into negotiations to find out if the rumor was true that we were paying money for songs. When we emphatically negatived the report, young Dennis Walsh sang us a song himself, just to show that there was no hard feeling about pay or no pay, and rendered "As I roved out fair London City," a type of song rarely sung to us by adults. When his mother protested, he defended himself, saying " 'Tis not a blackguard song, but an ould comical song." The whole Walsh family were singers. The eighteen-year-old sister Agatha sang "Greenwood Siding," the words of which I had heard years before. Mr. Walsh sang us "The Plains of Waterloo," one of the most heautiful melodies we heard. People are usually proud of the good singers of a village and will mention them and their particular songs. Having heard in this way about Stephen John Lee's and his song "The Spanish Captain," we walked round the head of the harbor one evening to ask him to sing it. His voice, though worn with use, was true and powerful, and the music carried over the calm harbor and echoed back from the cliffs. I wrote down the last words almost in darkness, while the brilliant stars twinkled again from the water, the dogs howled a little, lazily, and the wonderful fragrance of a Newfoundlaud summer night drifted round us.
Another of the good singers of Fleur de Lys was Mr. John Noftall. He was an elderly man who lived with his wife on a bill back from the water. He no longer needed to work very hard for a living, as their children were all grown, married, and getting along well. It was a climb to their house, and Mrs. Taftall saw us coming and was at the gate to meet us. She was a channing little woman with the most deep-seated content shining from her eyes. The house was built on stilts and the land fell away sharply in front of it. Cabbage roses grew in profusion in the yard, and trees like poplars and aspens made a pleasant rustle in the breeze. From the unrailed veranda the view looked down the harbor, between the high clifls and out to sea. Mr. Noftall was of the old school of ballad-singers and put in a variety of slides. trills, grace notes, unexpected accents, and other variations, all of which add greatly to the elIectiveness of rendition but reduce the music writer to despair. Miss Yarrow rallied to the task, and her record of "The Maid of Newfoundland" is, I believe, as close a representation of this old ballad style as can be made. Then at last it came Sunday, and we heard Pat Lewis sing, of whom Stephen John Lewis had said, "He's the best in this place. No dance is worth going to unless he's there!" He did not know the words of many songs, but others recited them, and Pat, in a very soft sweet Irish tenor, gave us the tunes. Some of our loveliest melodies will be found under his name.
This part of the coast has some widespread traditions of buried treasure, of a graven rock, of a phantom ship. At one place not far from Fleur de Lys they say six cannon can be seen lying under the clear water. The story goes that one is filled with gold, but no one has dared risk the anger of the guardian spirit by disturbing the cannon. As for the rock, which, they say, lay for years with the words carved upon it "Roll me over and I'll tell you more," and which when turned over showed on the under side" Roll me back as I was before," we inquired for it everywhere we went, but no one could ever precisely locate it. It was always somewhere else! The phantom ship has been seen at different points along the coast and is regarded as a warning of a heavy gale. Sometimes it is seen as a small boat, called a punt, rowed by two men. Stephen John Lewis said in response to my inquiry, "The sperrit punt? Yes, I've seed it meself. Sometimes people bas seed it close enougb to count the buttons on the men's coats. But I never seed it like that. It was about a quarter of a mile away, and it was a boat where it was not possible for a boat to be. How many was in-to it? Well, I couldn't tell ye that. It was a dull day - and it grew duller, There was men in a little dark boat, rowing away from the land, and it was not possible for them to get back, yet we never heard that anyone was drove out, so it was a sperrit boat. That boat have been seen from cape to cape on this coast. I suppose this can't be so, but I seed it just the same."
Folk-song in Newfoundland owes a great debt to the people of Irish descent. They have a genius for music and learn not only the Irish songs, but any other lovely airs they hear, and they render them most sweetly. I am inclined to credit the Irish with a large share in keeping the Newfoundland folk-music so melodious. In Fortune Harbour we found a rich harvest of Irish songs expressing the Irish passions of love of nature, love of Ireland, and love be tween a young man and a maiden. The villagers are of Irish descent, ninety-nine and a half percent Roman Catholic. Every member of the Lahey family was musical, and they were all good dancers. In the quadrille the men filled out the measures with intricate stepdancing and the women swung on their arms as light as thistledown, though one was a sweet-faced grandmother with white hair. Newfoundlanders love to hear the ballads, and a crowd always gathered for our evening sessions. Our last night in Fortune Harbour we went to the home of a noted singer, Mr. James Day. The kitchen was full when we arrived, and more and more kept coming in until every inch of wall-space was occupied. \Ve had a glorious session, which ended only at midnight after four hours of steady concentration. At six the next morning, for the second time during our travels in Newfoundland, women stood on the dock, weeping as we left, for fear lest our boat would be swamped in the driving storm that was lashing the bay to whitecaps.
August found us going down tbe West Coast aboard the S. S. Sagona, under a captain introduced to us by the engineer of the Clyde as "a divil of a man for a song." We lived on the Sagona for four days on that trip and added fourteen songs to our collection. One night we bad gathered in the smoking room for a song session. Captain Gullage placed himself behind us where he could watch us write. The handsome young sailor who was going to sing for us, tired from his long day of heavy work, reclined on the seat, propped up in a corner. In a very clear forthright voice he gave us the spirited Newfoundland song, "The Crowd of Bold Sharemen If and followed it with the fine old English song, "The Bold Princess Royal." Delighted, we asked what song he would like us to sing in response. "Please if you would sing 'The Wreck of the S. S. Ethie'," he replied. At once the atmosphere became electric. The Ethie had been the West Coast steamer. Caught in a wild storm in December, 1919, she had been run ashore at the only spot for miles along the coast where she could have been grounded near enough shore to save the passengers and crew, and every person on her had been taken safely to land. It was a thrilling tale of stout hearts and superb seamanship. Her captain, Mr. English, received a medal- "The only time ever I 'card of a captain's getting a medal for losing his ship," chuckled Captain Gullage. Right in the cabin with us were the two real heroes of the struggle, Mr. Walter Young, who boldly directed the course which brought them to safety, and the then First Male Gullage, who controlled the wheel with his own hands until the ship struck and then, with fingers swollen like thole-pins with the cold, tied every passenger into the bos'n's chair, making sure that no knot would slip during the short but terrible journey to tbe shore. I doubt if ever again I shall have a chance to sing such a song under such circumstances. I realized then that the precious "literary quality" which we collectors seek. in ballads is a very secondary thing to the folk who compose and sing them to recall to mind the brave deeds nf their heroes.
Late one pitch-black night, the Sagona came to anchor in Red Bay, Labrador. At once there came the bustle of passengers preparing to leave, the sputtering of motor boats putting out from
shore, the rattle and screech of the winch handling freight from the
forward hold, and the creaking of the after-winch as the mail-boat
was lowered. But in the main cabin where I was working it was
warm and bright and peaceful, and presently Captain Gullage came
in from the bridge, with a sigh of relief that the ship was safely
anchored and he might relax a little. We ran over a few songs together,
and then I asked him if he would sing me "Sally Brown."
I knew it as a chantey song, but the words as sung in Newfoundland
were apparently too broad, and none of the men would sing it to us.
After thinking a bit and evidently rearranging the words, the Captain
gave it in his beautiful tenor voice, and to me that haunting
melody will always stand for the endless labor of ships, as evidenced
by the sounds we heard outside, and for the peace of ships, as we felt
it in that bright cabin, and for the charm of the true seaman who was
its singer.
We left the Sagona at Flower's Cove, the last steamer stop in
Newfoundland, whence we could see Greenely Island, where the
airplane Bremen. came to earth after the first non-stop fiight from
easl to west across the Atlantic. Four miles north "down" the shore
was the village of Sandy Cove, where we found families of pure
English descent, who knew and sang some of the oldest ballads we
heard. At Flower's Cove the cod season had been almost a failure,
and the young men had gone over to try their luck in Labrador. The
old men were busy about the sealskins. The seals are killed in the
spring and tbe hides brought to shore and soaked in the ponds until
the hair and flesh are loosened, when the men lay them on a slanting
tree-trunk. and scrape off everything down to the hide. The smell
at this stage is vile, but the cleaned skins are then placed in huge
vats with quantities of fragrant evergreen bark and plenty of water,
out of which, after the proper length of time, they come with a brown
color and a sweet bark smell. Then they are nailed to the side of a
house or shed to dry, or laced into a frame of logs and put on the
[pics]
roof out of reach of the dogs. When thoroughly dry and weathered,
they are taken down and rolled up like a sheet of blotting paper.
After that the women cut them out into neat patterns, and sew
them elegantly with a strong linen thread, thus fashioning boots or
slippers which are water-tight and will keep the feet from freezing
even through snow or slush or bitter winds. The fine work of
Flower's Cove women in pleating the skins can be recognized at a
glance, and their handiwork is much in demand all over the island.
Miss Yarrow left me at this point, but before leaving Newfoundland
I decided to visit one more section of the island, the Port au
Port Peninsula, which juts out some thirty miles into the Gulf on
the southern part of the West Coast near St. George's Bay. Summer
was over and the fall rains had begun. Blinding torrents of rain
wet me while merely getting to the train, and hid all the lovely views
of Curling and the trout country. This part of Newfoundland was
settled by Frenchmen from the northwest of France, who for years
had fished and traded here, and by Scotchmen from Scotland and
from Antigonish, Nova Scotia. It was reported that I could find
"Jack-a-tars," or people who spoke a mixed dialect of French, English,
and Micmac, but to my surprise, the songs that I heard were
sung in literary French which I could understand. The Scotch
people spin yarn and knit it as other Newfoundlanders do, but, in
addition, they know how to weave it on looms. I was told that they
still sing work-songs in Gaelic to keep rhythm and unison in their
weaving and that the older Scotch settlers know long narrative songs
in Gaelic, one of which, for instance, tells of the perils and hardships
which a shipload of emigrants endured on the way to Newfoundland.
This brief visit to a new and interesting section of Newfoundland
opened vistas of further study and effort, always so alluring to a
collector. On that part of the coast are to be found ]ack-a-tar,
Gaelic, and French songs, only waiting for a collector with knowledge
of these tongues. On the southeast coast live the "Bankers,"
wbo evidently have a store of chanteys as yet unrecorded. And so
it goes! The horizon in folk-collecting, as at sea, moves onward as
you move.
With the storm still roaring and the rain still pelting, I stood on
the upper deck of the fine new steamer, the Caribo.., which now
makes the run between Port-aux-Basques and North Sydney, Nova
Scotia. As she dove into the troughs of the waves with tremendous
impact, accurately nosing her way among the reefs though fog lay
thick over the waters, I felt that pang of regret which we all feel
when some wonderful, pefect experience comes to an end; the added
thrill of being "homeward bound"; above all, once againJ respect
and admiration for the Newfoundlander.; who face these wild nights
at sea witb such courage and skill, and wbo exhibit towards their
fellowmeo such good temper, kindliness, and hospitality.
Newfoundlander.; get hold of their songs in different ways. Family
tradition is one of the most important sources, as the editors of
British Ballads i" AIaim also found to be true. Six of the Child
ballads in this collection come from one singer, Maude Roberts
Simmonds, and many other the old songs were recorded from the
sweet singers of three generations of her family. It was perfectly
astonishing to me to note bow accurately tbe songs were remembered.
Several times I asked men to sing again songs I had recorded
from them nine years before, and the only variations would be in
two or three unimportant words out of a song fifteen or twenty
stanzas long. Next in importance are the fishing and sealing voyages,
where the younger singers add to their store from their cider
shipmates. 'Many American songs current in Newfoundland were
learned from the crews of Gloucestermen during "fishermen's holidays"
in Newfoundland ports. More recently the lumber camps
have become important for the spread of song, They attract men
from every part of the island, and American and Canadian foremen
have brought in the songs of their native lumber camps. The songs
sung are legion, and men from one section of the island thus leam
songs from all the other sections. A fourth source of ballads is becoming
a snare for the unwary collector - the phonograph. Records
of such popular ballads as "Barbara Allen" and such dance tunes as
"lTurkey in the Straw" have a great vogue, and may be rendered
again as native material. The schools, far from aiding in the preservation
of folk-song, are working in the opposite direction. It is easy
to see why they do so, for the custom is to sing the Newfoundland
ballads as solos, and long ones at that, and tbe schools need shorter
songs arranged for group singing. :Moreover it requires perspective
to ascertain what belongs to an enduring tradition and what is
purely ephemeral. In the United tates, the movement is well under
way to use the wealth of lovely simple folk-melodies in elementary
school leaching, instead of composing special exercises for each
grade. May the day soon come when Newfoundland realizes its unequalled
opportunity to do the same!
Newfoundland songs are diverse in origin. Many of them come
from the British Isles, especially from England and Ireland; many
are composed in Newfoundland, usually on English or Irish models; a lesser number of American, Canadian, and French songs are current.
The ballads to be found in the Child collection are probably
the oldest now sung. Then there are many seventeenth- and eighteenth-
century broadside ballads, particularly English, and vast numbers
of nineteenth-century compositions. Most of the Irish, Canadian,
American, French, and Newfoundland songs now sung belong
to that century, I believe. There is a growing body of modern twentieth-
century songs from the British Isles, Canada, and the United
States, as well as the very interesting songs daily being composed
in Newfoundland.
These last are of exceptional interest. A complete collection of
them would, I am sure, give a complete history of the island, from
the early Ilgams" aboard the fishing vessels of all nations who came
to fish the Banks and to dry their catch ashore, through social movements
like the emigration of the nineties, to politics, wars, sea
disasters and everyday life, including folk-motifs, and of a tone quite
different from the historical ballads composed by the ruling classes.
Compare, for example, with Tennyson's HCharge of the Light Brigade"
that song of the Crimean war called "The Russian Shore":
There's many a tender mother and many a sisler dear,
And many a handsome fair one, in salt and briny tear,
That's mourning for their own true love, the lad they do adore,
That lies dead and ghastly wounded, allan the Russian shore.
And this also with a point of view not tolerated in formal history:
o a ship in distress, me love, is a wonderful sight,
Like a reg'ment of soldiers just going to fight,
Where a soldier can heave down his fire-arms and run,
But a sailor he must yield to whatsomever may come.
The Newfoundlanders make up a song about any happening, usually
tragic, which affects them. The surprising thing is that they will
use, and apparently understand, words which never appear in their
daily speech. In "The Greenland Disaster," composed by Mrs. John
\Valsh of Fleur de Lys, occur such expressions as H Boreas blew with
vengeance," and "It crowned their labors with delight, the prospect
been so great."
In the way they are sung, as well as in subject matter, the Newfoundland
songs are more like the Nova Scotian than like those of
any other region I have been able to examine. Mackenzie's vivid
and channing description of the Nova Scotian traditional style of
singing (in Tlte Quest oj tlte Bollad) indicates something closer to the
Newfoundland style tban either the English style or that described
by Cecil Sharp from the Appalachians. The traditional mode of
singing used by the older men differs from the straight-ahead rendering
employed by the younger. The traditional singer half reclines on
the raised end of the typical wnoden sofa and, after protesting
modestly that he "has the cold" and "never could sing anyway,"
he gives judicious attention to the little movable spitbox, filled with
sawdust and conveniently placed under the sofa. Then, fixing his
eyes on vacancy, he begins his song. He sings with unchanged volume
of tone, without effort at impersonation. The chief characteristic
of his singing is the embellishment of the basic melody with the
greatest possible variety of turns, slurs, grace notes, quavers, unexpected
accents, and subtle syncopations. His audience listen with
sympathy and kindled imagination, just as Americans listen to
"Home, Sweet Home," and as the story develops, emotion is roused.
When he comes to about the middle of the last line, he stops singing
and mumbles the rest in his speaking voice, thus indicating the conclusion
of the song and his descent to earth from the heights of
Parnassus. Although a perfectly familiar convention to a Newfoundland
audience, this conclusion is so surprising to Americans
that they invariably laugh, however tragic the song.
It is probably impossible to reproduce such a song on paper. The
basic melody and the most constant embellishments can be shown,
but even Cecil Sharp's careful notation cannot convey the flavor of
the style to one who has not heard it. It is a true style, just as
"crooning" or "bel cantoH are styles, and its essence must be conveyed
to the mind through the ear not through the eye. In "The
Maid of Newfoundland" Miss Yarrow has done her best to represent
it. Perhaps future ballad books will be illustrated with a phonograph
record in an envelope, just as histories are to-day with
facsimiles. The traditional style is more generally preserved in the
dance tunes than in the songs. Youngsters of even eight or ten
years are singing dance tunes to-day in Newfoundland in exact imitation
of the older men's rendering.
Although Newfoundland song composers model their verses after
the words of other songs they know, without acknowledgment,
when they compose a new tune to fit the words they always say
what tune they used as a basis. Frequently they expressed surprise
at our taking the trouble to record the air. "You can make your
own tune, can't you?" they objected. Mr. Tom White, the singer
of Sandy Cove, rebuked the children when they grew restless as
Miss Yarrow labored with a fine but difficult tune. "Come, now,
and seel" he commanded. "Them scratches is the h'air." But we noticed that in many cases the tune used for the rendering of a song
varied no more in any ballad than the text; so I do not believe that
they IImake up their own tune II every time, any more than we do.
When the words of a new ballad are printed without music in the
papers, the tune varies with the locality. Some airs seem to be
carryalls for many diverse occasions. Such a tune is that of "The
Lumber Camp Song," which I recorded in 1920. We found in 1929
that the Twillingate men used it for the words of their sealing song,
and we heard it on the Strait of Bell Isle as a dance tune, with most
interesting changes of accent.
Not so much study, apparently, has been given to the age of the
ballad tunes as to the age of the texts. Prohably the oldest tunes
in our collection are those in the various modes and "gapped scales,"
such as are also common in the Appalachians and the British Isles.
In the tunes, as in the texts, the law holds true that the older the
composition, the more it varies in different localities. The tunes
for" The Drowsy Sleeper" furnish good material for the study of
this process of variation. Some Newfoundland tunes retain the
mood and rhythm, though not the melody, of their Old World
counterpartsj compare the airs for "The Unquiet Grave" with
Cecil Sharp's air for this song from England. Other tunes retain
enough of their characteristics to be recognized. Thus "Vilikins
and his Dinah" may be recognized in the air for" The Crowd of
Bold Sharemen." The tunes for "The Dark-Eyed Sailor" and a
few of the recent nineteenth-century songs were the only ballad
tunes we found diffused without change. The dance tunes seem to
preserve their identities more perfectly than the ballad tunes.
HKeel Row," "Darling Nellie Gray," "Johnny, Fill up the Bowl"
(which I know as "The Three Crows", and many others may be
recognized in spite of the unfamiliar style of rendition.
There are hosts of lovely airs now heing sung in Newfounclland.
I wish that this record might serve as an inspiration to the use of
these well-loved melodies in compositions reflecting the spirit of
the twentieth century.
ELISABETH BRISTOL GREENLEAF
MARsHALL COLLEGE
HUNTINGTON, WEST VIRGINIA
ABBREVIATIONS
BARRY, ECKSTORM, AND SMYTH. Phillips Barry, Fannie Hardy Eckstorm, and Mary Winslow Smyth, British Ballads from Maine. New Haven, 1929.
BELDEN H. M. Belden, A Partial List of Song-Ballads and Other Popular Poetry known in Missouri. Second edition, 1910.
CAMPBELL AND SHARP Olive Dame Campbell and Cecil J. Sharp, English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians.
New York, 1917.
CHILD Francis James Child, The English and Scottish Popular Ballads. Boston, 1883.
COLCORD Joanna C. Colcord, Roll and Go. Songs of American Sailormen. Indianapolis, 1924.
COMBS Josiah H. Combs, Folk-Songs du Midi des Etats-Unis. Paris, 1925.
COX John Harrington Cox, Folk-Songs of the South. Cambridge, 1925.
DAVIS Arthur Kyle Davis, Jr., Traditional Ballads of Virginia. Cambridge, 1929.
DEAN M. C. Dean, The Flying Cloud, and '50 Other Old Time Poems and Ballads. Virginia, Minnesota, 1922.
EcKSTORM AND SMYTH Fannie Hardy Eckstorm and Mary Winslow Smyth, Minstrelsy of Maine. Boston, 1927.
FINGER Charles J. Finger, Frolltier Ballads. Garden City, 1927.
FLANDERS AND BROWN Helen Hartness Flanders and George Brown, Vermont Folk-Songs alld Ballads. Brattleboro,
[1931].
FUSON Harvey H. Fuson, Ballads of the Kentucky Highlands. London [1931].
GRAY Roland Palmer Gray, Songs and Ballads of the Maine Lumberjacks with Other Songs from Maine. Cambridge, 1924.
GREIG Gavin Greig, Folk-Song of the North-Scotland, Peterhead, 1914.
HUDSON Arthur Palmer Hudson, Specimens of Mississippi Folk·Lore. Ann Arbor, 1928.
JOAFL The Journal of American Folk-Lore.
LOMAX John A. Lomax, Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads. New York, 1910, 1922.
MACKENZIE W. Roy Mackenzie, Ballads and Songs from Nova Scotia. Cambridge, 1928.
McGiLL- Josephine McGill, Folk-Songs of the Kentucky Mountains. New York [1917].
KEITH- Alexander Keith, Last Leaves of Traditional Ballads and songs, collected in Aberdeenshire by the late Gavin Greig. Aberdeen. 1925.
OCONOR Manus O'Conor, OM Tjrru: Songs and Ballads of Iond (also called lris4 C<>OHJIl-Y"'s).
New York, 1001.
ORD John Onrd, TM Bothy Songs and Ballads oj
A Mrdun, Banff alld Mor~y, A.ngus and tire Mearns. Paisley, 1930.
POUND (with page reference only) Louise Pound, Folk-Song of Nebraska And the Central West, A Syllabus. Nebraska Academy
of Sciences, Plublications. vol. IX, NO. 3.
POUND (with number reference) Louise Pound, Amnerican Ballads a,ul SOIIfIS.
New York, 1922.
RICHARDSON Ethel Park Richardson, Amuican },folmkJin
Songs, edited by Sigmund Spaeth. New
York [1927].
RICKABY Franz Rickaby, &JloJs and Simg of lJIe
Sllallty-Boy. Cambridge, 1926.
SANDBURG .... Carl Sandburg, The American Songbag. New
York [1927].
SHEARIN AND Combs. Hubert G. Shearin and Josiah Combs, A
Syllabus of Kentucky Folk songs. Trollsyloonia
Studies ill English, vol. n. Lexington,
Kentucky, 1911.
SHOEMAKER Rent)' W. Shoemaker, Jfou"/iJill. Minstrelsy of Pennsylvania. Being a. Third Edition of lite North Pennsylvania Minstrels). Philadelphia, 1931.
SMITH Reed Smith, South Carolina Ballads. Cambridge, 1928.
THOMAS. Jean Thomas, Devil's Ditties being Stories of the Kentucky Mountain People with Me Songs li,y Sing. Chicago, 1931.
WILLIAMS Alfred Williams, Folk Songs of Upper Thames, London [1923],