The Half Hitch- Atwood (Vermont) 1919 Sturgis
[My date. From: Songs from the Hills of Vermont, 1919 Sturgis. This is the earliest collected text of The Half- Hitch, a ballad well-known in Vermont. It was was recorded by Pete Seeger on "Story Songs," 1961. I've included a verse of the music below. according to a chart at Ancestry.com, Atwood (see picture below) was born c. 1845 and would be around 70 years old when the picture was taken. I've assigned a date of 1875 when James was young, although it's likely his father learned it before then.
R. Matteson 2012, 2014]
James and Mary Atwood with Aunt Jenny Knapp
Songs from the Hills of Vermont
PREFACE
In a pleasant sunlit valley lying close up to the Green Hills of Vermont is a tiny village so small that its only connection with the outer world is by an old stage which rumbles in once a day from the railroad eight miles off. There are hardly more than a dozen houses in the town, one small store, and the Post Office, which is one room in a family dwelling house. A real Vermont trout brook, typically brown and clear, runs along one side of the village road, reflecting in wide, quiet spaces the blue of the sky and the big shadow of Pisgah Mountain that stands on guard as it were over the town. Pisgah is nearly four thousand feet high and forms a climax to the range of smaller mountains which surround the little valley. Bear and wildcat often roam these hills, and the gentle folk who live here the year round tell many tales of the wild animals seen and heard—tales which one can verify if one has woodcraft. This is God's country, unmolested, undisturbed by the hand of man; it lies far enough out of the beaten track to be sweet and clean and quiet. You have only to climb high up on any of the smaller hills through the natural garden of blue gentians, everlasting, and pink steeple-bush, and turn around, and there is all the world before you;—great wide stretches of sky, the blue distant mountains, a hemisphere of hills and valleys to delight the eye;—and you feel as if Heaven were very near.
There are many quaint and delightful characters in the village, as it is a community of unusual people of the good old Vermont stock. Many of them have never gone out of the state. We number them all among our friends. But the poet and his wife, James and Mary Atwood, are the two that are now uppermost in our minds, as they and their intimate friend, "Aunt Jenny" Knapp, who spent the summer with them last year, gave us all the songs in this little book.
Mary and James are farmers in their everyday life, cultivating their little farm and living off its produce. They belong in their simplicity to the rugged strength of all that hill country, the pointed fir, the brooks and the abundant wild flowers. Mary is a delightful character, full of a generous, open-hearted hospitality and affection, with a whimsical side that makes her excellent company. She has a truly delicious sense of the ridiculous and yet a real appreciation of songs and poetry (especially James's poetry). For, besides singing the old songs learnt from boyhood up, James makes verses of his own to suit every occasion. Nothing is too lowly or too high for his pen. He keeps a continuous "Current Events" in verse. History is always in the making for these two dear people, whether it be the straying of a neighbor's hog into their precious garden and the resulting destruction of their potato patch, the arrival of a new visitor at one of the adjacent houses, or an unusual purchase at the village store.
Theirs is a real home: there is a marvellous feeling of contentment with life and with each other which impresses you the moment you step across the threshold of their orderly little house. "Love alters not here, nor bends with the remover to remove." They still behold each other in the light of romance and affection, and as Mary sits by James's side and gently reminds him of a word or verse in his song over which he may be hesitating, one feels that one is far away from unhappiness and discord, that here is peace. Surely it is a privilege to be counted as their friend.
James has always sung, and is above everything else a Folk-Singer, just as his father and grandfather were before him, and one of the delightfully modest remarks with which he is apt to preface his singing is, "I'm not what you'd call a regular singer, you know, for I never learned by book nor never saw nothin' writ down. But—" and there comes over his face a gentle smile, "I've alius sung just 'cause I can't help it. My father was the same way and my grandfather too. Guess you'd call us of the old school of singing."
Years ago he must have had a fine baritone voice. Even now, while the strength and quality may be lacking, it is as true as ever and never quavers or hesitates, whether it be in the strange old minor ballads in the ancient modes or in the early American songs—may we not call them American Folk-Songs?—which have been handed down from father to son in this country. Fixing his eye on space James sings for the love of the song, for the story it tells, often stopping to laugh gently to himself, often ending with tears in his eyes. He cares not at all for the effect he makes, but he dearly loves you to love the song too, and will often enter into a dissertation on its history and probable origin. Each character in each song has for him, and for Mary, too, a personality of its own, and it is typical of him to end one of the ballads, perhaps that of "Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor," with a soft twinkle in his eye and "I wonder now if he'd a been as happy if he'd a married Fair Eleanor from the start as he thought he would. You know, I kinder think she wan't all she might ha' been, after all. She had a pretty sharp tongue, I'm thinkin'." It is this absorbing interest that keeps the songs always fresh and beautiful to them; they do not need moving pictures or vaudeville to amuse them, for the songs of many years back are always with them, and the people live again for them.
Mary has a deep and powerful voice, although she doesn't pretend to be a singer. Of the fifty odd songs we got from these three dear people she gave us only a few, but she sang them with gusto and fine emphasis.
I cannot end without a word about "Aunt Jenny," a dear and quaint old lady who came to live with James and Mary. She was not a "singer" like James, but her memory was unfailing, and she sang after a fashion of her own, so that it was always possible to get her tunes. She, no less than the Atwoods, lived her real life in the bygone romances and stories she had learned in her youth and middle age.
It might be raining the proverbial menagerie outdoors, but once inside the little cottage, life became intensely interesting. With our chairs drawn up around the open fire, and a preliminary
remark from Mary of "Rest your hat, Eduth; I'll go call in James from the potato patch. He wouldn't like to miss your visit. Aunt Jenny's thought up a new song for you," we were off in a cloud of dust, entering a world of fancy, fun, or love, as the case might be, much more real than the raging of the elements outside.
In most of the songs we have adhered strictly to the original script; but in a few of the oldest ballads we have thought it best to make some slight alterations to render the text suitable for present-day publication. In our generation we do not deal quite so frankly with all subjects as writers formerly did, and certainly we could not sing the original versions of some of the ballads with the unconscious simplicity of James and Mary. They accept these ballads in their entirety and feel in no way obliged to apologize for them, although James will occasionally prepare the hearer with some such remark as "There ain't nothin' bad about this song, so fur ez I can see, 'ceptin' its criminality."
E. B. Sturgis
Groton, Massachusetts, June, 1919.
HALF HITCH- Text from 1919 Songs from the Hills of Vermont w/ music (piano and voice). [Sturgis: I have been unable to find a printed version of the unique and interesting old ballad, The Half-Hitch (sung by James Atwood).]
1. A noble rich man in Plymouth did dwell
He had but one daughter, a beautiful girl
A handsome young farmer with riches supplied
He courted this fair maid to make her his bride
2. He courted her long and gained her love
And then she intended this young man to prove
When he asked her to marry she quickly replied
And told him right off she would not be his bride
3. He vowed then that home he quickly would steer
And by a sad oath to her he did swear
How he'd wed the first woman that e'er he did see
If she was as mean as a beggar could be
4. She ordered her servants this man to delay
Her jewels and rings, she laid them away
She put on the worst of old rags she could find
She looked like a teapot before and behind
5. She rubbed both her hands on the old chimney back
And then blackened her face from corner to crack
Then around to the road she flew like witch
With her petticoats hoisted all on the half hitch
6. The young man came riding and when he did see her
He cried out 'alas' for his oath he did fear
But being so faithful to keep his words true
He soon overtook her, saying "Pray, who are you?"
(Spoken) "I am a woman"
7. This answer did suit him as well as the rest
It lay very heavy and hard on his breast
"How can I bear for to make her my bride?"
But still he did ask her behind him to ride
(Spoken) "Your horse will throw me, I know"
8. "No", he replied, "My horse, he will not"
So then she climbed up and behind him she got
He wished himself well from his promises free
But he turned to her saying, "Will you have me?"
(Spoken) "Yes I will"
9. My heart it doth fail me, I dare not go home
My parents will think I am sorely undone
I will leave you here with my neighbor to tarry
Within a few days with you I will marry
(Spoken) "You won't, I know"
10. He told her he would and home he did go
He soon told his father and mother also
Of his woeful case and how he had sworn
His parents said to him, "For that do not mourn"
11. Oh, ne'er break your vows, but bring home your girl
We'll soon snug her up and she'll do very well
They asked his old spark to the wedding to come
Her servants replied that she was not at home
12. They invited her maidens to wait on her there
And then for the wedding they all did prepare
Published the banns and invited the guests
And then they intended the bride for to dress
(Spoken) "I'll just be married in my old clothes"
13. When they were married, they sat down to eat
With her fingers she hauled out the cabbage and meat
As she stood a-stooping some called to his bride
Saying pray go along and sit by his side
(Spoken) "I'll just sit in the chimney corner like I'm used to"
14. She burned all her fingers in the pudding, I fear
Then licked them and wiped them all on her old rags
They gave her a candle, what could she want more
And showed her the way to the chamber door.
(spoken) "Husband, when you hear my shoes go "clunk", you may come along"
15. Upstairs she then went and kept stepping about
His mother said to him, " What think is the rout?"
He cried out, "Dear Mother, Pray don't say a word
For ne'er any comfort can this world afford"
16. A little while later, her shoes they went "clunk"
They gave him a candle and bade him go along
Upstairs then he went and quickly he found
As handsome a lady as e'er stepped the ground
17. All dressed in the richest of clothes to behold
She was finer and fairer than pictures of gold
He greatly rejoiced at this end to his fears
For he had married the lady he courted for years
18. Downstairs they went and a frolic they had
Which made both their hearts feel merry and glad
They looked like two flower that pleased the eye
With many full glasses, all wished them great joy
