Quentin Bega

The Snowy River Men

There’s no fool like an old fool, they say, so what happens when a bunch of oul’ coots gather together to make music? The next batch of posts may enlighten you as to the question just posed and may also, perhaps, enrage or entertain. Anything’s better than a yawn, I guess. And everything that is not that bloody virus is a plus. At the moment we can’t meet as a group, as we are in lockdown, so I have set out a version of songs that are in our repertoire but which have not yet been recorded. With any luck (and, as three of us are north of 70, we’ll need it!) we will be able to resume our normal practice of meeting weekly and playing tunes, singing songs and generally enjoying the crack.

I do not, as a rule, post the lyrics of songs I have recorded. If they are not comprehensible on listening then there is no point in printing them. It’s a bit like having to explain a joke after the punch-line. But I will make an exception in this case- and here are the reasons why: first, this is one of the finest songs ever written about the Great War and Australia’s involvement in it from the point of view of the soldiers actually doing the fighting. Second, my great-uncle, Private John Joseph Mitchell (5141) of the 22^nd Battalion, Australian Infantry, A.I.F., died on 18 September, 1917, near Polygon Wood. This was the day before Hal Archer, the subject of the song, was killed (also by an artillery round). This killing ground was where one of the Snowy River Men, Private Ernest Albert Corey, a decorated Military Medal and three bars recipient, was a stretcher bearer during that horrific period of time. Third, Kevin Baker, the writer of this fine song has been a long-time friend of mine. And, finally, it is a much longer song than those I generally present in these posts. It is AAB in form, with ten separate verse quatrains and five identical chorus quatrains ( / = line divisions; // = verse divisions )

Dear Mrs Allen, I write to you today, / To say that I was with your son just before he passed away / I trained with him at Goulburn and we travelled on to France / And I was there when he got hit in the German advance.// It seems so long ago now since we marched into your town / and all the young men heard the call and signed their names straight down / and the girls and the children proudly cheered us all along / Ah, Bibbenluke that day was a feast of speech and song.

Chorus But The Snowy River Men just couldn’t march today / There’s far too many of them dead for the rest to feel that way / The cold ground of Europe has been watered with their blood /There’s a strange new crop of crosses rising in this foreign mud

From Goulburn to Sydney then a ship from Circular Quay, / A spirit of adventure stood and filled both Les and me / It was great to be with comrades true and travelling abroad / For a while the war seemed far away, and the world was to be toured // In Durban, the natives took us travelling in style / In rickshaws that they pulled along at a shilling a mile / In Cape Town we watch the black boys diving in the bay / The Snowies had a good time there and would have liked to stay Chorus

When we landed at Plymouth, we’d spent eight weeks at sea / And entrained straight way for Wilton where our camp turned out to be / They treated us well there so we really can’t complain / That the sky was grey the weather bleak and it always seemed to rain // When we set sail for France the weather had turned fine / And it wasn’t long before the call to reinforce the line / Then a shell whined above us and we were raked with stones and mud / And I turned and saw Les sitting there in a pool of his own blood Chorus

He stared as the blood poured out of his legless thigh / And I carried him back to the aid post close nearby / His blood soaked my uniform, but he never breathed a sigh / And I had no idea then that he was going to die // When I left him he spoke of a pain inside his chest / I suppose that’s what killed him I just don’t know the rest / But I know that we all miss him and can’t help but wonder why / So many Snowy men so quickly had to die Chorus

We hear the king’s grateful for all the men who’ve died / And is sending home a photo of the graves in which they lie / Well I still think the cause is right but it’s not clear anymore / Why so many Australian men should die in Europe’s war / We hope with our hearts that time will ease the pain / Of never once to see his face or hear his voice again / But I’ve seen so much death now since that day on which he died / That I can’t now be the Snowy Man that once I was inside. Chorus

Have you ever heard of the “SNOWY RIVER MEN” Recruitment march? This was one of many recruitment drives which took place around Australia circa 1916 to boost the number of enlistments into the AIF during World War One. The march was organised by a Captain by the name of F.R. WEDD and started on the 6th of January, 1916. A small group of 14 men proceeded to walk from the small country town of Delegate in southern New South Wales. Their route would take them through many other localities within the Monaro District – to conclude at the AIF Training Depot in Goulburn. A distance of roughly 350 kilometres. It was hoped that at least 200 men would join up as a result, but to the dismay of Captain WEDD, this number fell well short.

The route took the marchers through many small towns and localities:- from Delegate through to Craigie, Mila, Bombala, Bibbenluke, Holt’s Flat, Nimmitabel, Summer Hill, Rock’s Flat, Cooma, Bunyan, Numerella, Billylingera, Bredbo, Colinton, Michelago, Williamsdale, Queanbeyan, Bungendore, Deep Creek, Tarago, Inveralochy, Tiranna and finally through to Goulburn after 23 days of marching.

They marched under a banner, made by the women of Delegate. By the time they reached Goulburn on the 29th of January, 1916 – one hundred and forty-four (144) men had joined the procession. The majority were then enlisted into the 55th Infantry Battalion, Australian Imperial Forces and sadly – many would later lose their lives in the bloody battles which occurred between 1916 to 1918.

Perhaps the most famous of the marchers, was Private Ernest Albert COREY who, as a stretcher bearer – was to be awarded the Military Medal a total of 4 times. He was born and bred in the small town of Numerella but he is said to have enlisted from Nimmitabel. It was from this town, that the war would take him to the other side of the world. His first award of the M.M. was for his actions in rescuing wounded comrades at Queant near Bullecourt during the horrific fighting on the 15th of May of 1917. He would be awarded his first ‘bar’ to the Military Medal for similar actions on the 26th of September, 1917 at Polygon Wood. The second ‘bar’ would be won at Peronne roughly twelve months later, for his work as a stretcher bearer on the 1st & 2nd of September, 1918. His third ‘bar’ being awarded for his actions at the Hindenburg Line north of Bellicourt on the 30th of September 1918. One may consider it unique – that all of his awards were given as a result of “saving life” and not “taking life”.

The song by Kevin BAKER is in my opinion – one of the most moving songs to be composed with regards to the First World War. His voice is very ‘Australian’ and lends itself to the subject matter. It is hard not to feel the emotion that would have been behind the letter written by Private Hal ARCHER (2121 Private Halloran ‘Hal’ ARCHER from Tarcutta). His mate, 2124 Private Samuel Leslie ‘Les’ ALLEN of Bibbenluke had been fatally wounded by artillery fire on the 19th of May 1917. Les had been a school teacher and was 27 years of age. During the actual march; when the volunteers approached the town of Bibbenluke, Les and the school children had travelled out to meet them. When the two groups met, the children “fell in” behind the marchers and joined the procession into the village. Les later accompanied the group when he joined them at Holt’s Flat. So after his mate’s death, Hal Archer takes it upon himself to write the letter to Mrs Elizabeth ALLEN – the mother of Les. I believe that Kevin BAKER was inspired to write this song, so many years later after reading this letter – which would lead one to believe that this letter still survives. I have made numerous attempts to contact Kevin, with a negative result. If any reader may be able to assist – I would like to ascertain from Kevin his motivation and sentiment in composing this song which I believe, is exceptional. (source, from medalsgonemissing.com administrator, Gary Traynor)

Yes, Gary, Kevin did have the letter. (I have tried to contact Gary through the site above) Kevin had gone on a song-collecting journey to the Snowy Mountain area. It must have been after he returned to Australia from Germany and Ireland (where he stayed with us for several weeks in 1981 during the Republican Prisoners Hunger Strikes).

I first met Kevin in 1973 or 1974- I was sent to Warrawong High School by the NSW Department of Education after being recruited from Northern Ireland where I had graduated the year before from Queen’s University, Belfast. Kevin transferred to Warrawong High from Berkeley High School in the adjacent suburb in 1974, as I recall. We generally played music together on Friday nights where Kevin played a fine mouth organ, flute or piccolo (accompanied by a goblet or three of wine…) We also played in various groups until I left Wollongong to return to Northern Ireland at the end of 1978.

When I returned to Australia in 1988, I re-established contact with Kevin in Wollongong where he told me of his song- collecting in the Snowy Mountain area and the letter written to Mrs Allen by Hal Archer. In the early 1990s he toured up the east coast of Australia to play at folk venues and I met him again in Ayr, N. Queensland when he was passing through to Townsville and Cairns. We met several more times in the late 1990s and early ‘noughties at festivals such as Gulgong, a 19th-century gold rush town in the Central Tablelands and folk clubs, such as the temperance venue in the western Sydney suburb of Toongabbie (we had a drink afterwards!)

My lockdown version features Band-in-a-Box/RealBand with n-Track 9. The slow ballad combo of drums, bass, acoustic piano and dual guitars drives the song along with verse/chorus roles respectively for mandolin, accordion, fiddle and organ. The vocals are doubled in the choruses. But, search out and listen to Kevin’s classic 1982 original for the authentic take.

The Snowy River Men

One of the Has-beens

Notes to One of the Has-beens (tune, “Pretty Polly Perkins of Paddington Green”)

…Polly Perkins…is the title of a famous English song, composed by the London music hall and broadside songwriter Harry Clifton (1832-1872), and first published in 1864. It was almost universally known in England until around the mid-1980s and was commonly taught to school children. The title refers to the district of Paddington in London. The song gained a place in the canonical Oxford Book of Comic Verse, and the original manuscript of “Polly” is now held in the Bodleian Library.

It was adapted for the USA by Clifton during the American Civil War, re-titled “Polly Perkins of Abington Green”. Presumably the new title referred to Abington Green, Georgia, in the USA.
Most of Clifton’s songs adapted their tunes from old folk songs, and it is possible that a folk tune is also the origin of the tune for Polly. A folk song in the English county of Northumberland, called Cushie Butterfield, is sung to the same tune as “Polly” – although the “Cushie” tune was always claimed by one Geordie Ridley (1834-1864), a Tyneside comedian and miner. Ridley and Clifton’s death dates mean that both the song and its tune are now firmly in the public domain.

[Below are three verses from Polly Perkins to give a sense of the comic song from the 19^th Century]

POLLY PERKINS OF ABINGTON GREEN written by Harry Clifton, 1864.
1. I am a broken-hearted milkman; in grief I’m arrayed/Through keeping of the company of a young servant maid/Who lived on board wages, the house to keep clean,/In a gentleman’s family near Abington Green.

CHORUS: Oh! She was as beautiful as a butterfly and as proud as a queen,/Was pretty little Polly Perkins of Abington Green.

4. When I asked her to marry me, she said, “Oh what stuff!”/And told me to drop it, for she’d had quite enough/Of my nonsense. At the same time, I’d been very kind/But to marry a milkman she didn’t feel inclined. CHORUS

7. In six months, she married, this hard-hearted girl,/But it was not a ‘Wicount’ and it was not a ‘Nearl’./It was not a ‘Baronite’, but a shade or two wuss./’Twas a bow-legged conductor of a twopenny ‘bus. CHORUS

The tune, with new lyrics, found its way into the Australian bush culture, among outback farmers and sheep shearers, in the song “One of the Has-beens”

A.L. Lloyd sang One of the Has-Beens in 1958 on his Wattle album, Across the Western Plains. He commented in the album’s sleeve notes:

I first heard this one New Year’s Day, in the late 1920’s, in hospital in Cowra, N.S.W. The matron was away, and the patients had a party in the ward. A teamster from Grenfell sang the song, and one or two of the old bushwhackers took umbrage, because they thought the stranger was getting at them. I now learn from [Douglas] Stewart and [Nancy] Keesing’s Old Bush Songs [Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1957] that One of the Has-Beens is the work of a former horse-breaker, shearer and gold-digger named Robert Stewart, born 1833 in N.S.W. The tune is that of the familiar early nineteenth century stage song, Pretty Polly Perkins [of Paddington Green]. (source, mainlynorfolk.info)

Parody below composed by Don Henderson, folk-singer, composer, poet, and musical-instrument maker. [Aficionados of Aussie folk music will be able to relate to the lines below.]

I’m one of the has-beens/A folksong I mean. In oral tradition/I once was serene.
Illiterate agrarians my worth would avow, but you may not believe me/ ’cause they don’t do it now./Chorus
I’m as awkward as a new one,/much more cap and gown/than a blithe air of arcadia;/I’ve been written down

Eluding the Banjo,/Vance Palmer, Bert Lloyd,/Jones, Durst and O’Connor/I did likewise avoid./Manifold, Meredith, Tate, de Hugard,/both Scotts, all found/ finding me was too hard./ Chorus (Source, Mudcat.org)

I reckon that the Australian lyrics that you hear on this post are superior: they perfectly capture the loss of vitality, strength and skill that even the gun shearers would suffer should they live long enough to experience the inevitable effects of ageing. Of course, as a septuagenarian, conscious of my own decline, the verses may reflect where I’m at in- (What is that cliché, again?)- my journey.

I first heard this song in Wollongong in the 1970s, sung a capella by Kevin Baker, a noted Illawarra poet and songwriter with whom I had a long association.

This lockdown version uses the Band-in-a-Box/RealBand combo and N-Track 9 mixing software.

Again, the backing uses the virtuoso finger-picked guitars of Brett Mason and Jason Roller, and rhythm section of acoustic piano, and acoustic bass: with accordion and fiddle alternating verse accompaniment roles. I use a solo voice for the verse and doubled voices chorus. The arrangement is one of my lock-down preferences- not too simplistic nor overly produced.

One of the Has-beens

The Old Bog Road

Teresa Brayton was born in Kilbrook, County, Kildare, in 1868 and also died there in 1943 having returned from New York, Her father was Hugh Boylan and her republican family were associated with the rising of 1798. She knew most of the leaders of the 1916 rising and around her neck she wore a chain, a piece of the flagstaff which flew the flag of the Irish Republic from the G.P.O. in Dublin on Easter Monday 1916. The chain was given to her by Countess Markievicz. The air of the song is an original air by Madeline O’Farrelly. Thanks to Johnny McEvoy for keeping the song alive. (from irish-folk-songs.com)

Teresa Brayton was born on the 29th of June 1868 as Teresa Cora Boylan at Kilbrook, County Kildare. Teresa attended Newtown National School where, by all accounts, she excelled in her studies.

In 1895 Teresa followed the emigrants trail across the broad Atlantic where she ended up becoming a vital cog in the workings of Irish nationalist organizations in New York and Boston.

Teresa was renowned in Irish American circles for her organizations of fund raisers to aid the war effort against British rule in her native land. Nationalism ran through Teresa’s blood; her great grandfather had taken part in the Battle of Prosperous in 1798 and she wrote a number of pieces to celebrate the centenary of the United Irishmen rebellion in 1898.

In 1932 Teresa returned to Ireland after the death of her husband and first lived in Bray with her sister before finally settling back in her beloved Kildare where she would live out the rest of her days.

Among those who held Teresa in high regard were Arthur Griffith, Eammon de Valera and Michael Collins. Among the many fundraisers Teresa organized in the United States was one to keep St Enda’s school open after the executions of Padraig and Willie Pearse in 1916. Teresa organized a big ceilidh in New York to aid Mrs Pearse who was trying to maintain the school after her sons’ deaths.

Teresa died, where she was born, at Kilbrook on the 19th of August 1943. She was buried in Cloncurry cemetery and Enfield Muintir na Tire erected a fine stone Celtic cross over her resting place which was then officially unveiled by [Irish President] Eammon de Valera in 1959. (source, irishcentral.com)

Many Irish people, of a certain age, identify with this song. Just about all of them, urban or rural, know of an old bog road from their own youth or that of their parents. Just a few yards up the road from where I lived in Cushendall was the start of The Old Road which led from the Barrack Brae across the foot of Lurigethan onto the Ballyeamon Road which connected the village to Ballymena. It was unpaved and passable only on foot or by tractor and I quite often used it as a short-cut to my cousin John’s farm. It made for an idyllic wandering in Spring or Summer.

The above extracts extol Teresa Brayton and her song. But there is another view; one that sees such compositions as sentimental sludge. The following extract from an Irish Times article will stand in for all the nay-sayers:

The Old Bog Road is still a very popular song in midland lounges, where three-piece bands, usually consisting of drums, keyboards and accordion, play genteel ballads discreetly, so as not to disturb elderly couples drinking lemonade…

When I got home I lit the fire and sat there all morning, dozing, as if I too was an elderly doddering man, like the ones that in my youth always sat in the corner of every kitchen. Back then old people wore black, and passed their days rolling up newspapers into firelighters, or dangling string in front of cats, or minding grandchildren from falling into the fire…

…Nor do I know what’s in store for anyone who gets the airport bus from Rochfortbridge. Maybe they too will make fortunes, or just end up carrying sandwich boards, on the sidewalks of the world, advertising exotic boutiques, with earplugs shielding them from some city’s din. And I don’t know what they’ll be listening to, on their iPods, but it certainly won’t be The Old Bog Road. (From The Irish Times article, God be with you Ireland and the Old Bog Road by Michael Harding,18^th February, 2011)

And where do I stand in this minor skirmish in one of the battlefronts of the culture wars that engulf the planet in the 21^st Century? Somewhere in between, initially. But, then, about a year ago, my wife suggested the song to me for our band, Banter, as it was the favourite song of her father’s and one he used to sing many years ago. Jim, her brother, sang it once or twice before the virus closed Banter’s performances down.The song grew on me as I started to research its origins and as I worked on the music. So, I guess I’m now on the side of the song’s protagonists.

We are still in lockdown and I present my Band-in-a-Box version. It features the twin fingerpicking guitar wizardry of Brent Mason and Jason Rolling. With Nashville drums, acoustic bass, and piano, it provides a suitable accompaniment, IMHO, for this emigrant song of longing.

The Old Bog Road

McAlpine’s Fusiliers (expanded)

McAlpine’s Fusilier’s/Instrumental– Over the years this has proved to be one of the most popular items in our repertoire. Obviously, we enjoy playing whatever song or instrumental we happen to be performing. We play for enjoyment and not for pay. All we ask is a reasonable sound system. While we won’t make money doing this, we will make craic- and isn’t that all that matters. Dominic Behan wrote this song [see notes below for an update on this assertion.] (among many other fine examples from the genre) and it captures the essence of the Irish navvies who, in their thousands and tens of thousands built the rail, the roads the tunnels and canals and a lot more of the infrastructure in Britain and farther afield. (Listen to our version, from which these notes are taken, at Song 57- a field recording of almost a decade past) For a deep dive into the origins of the song, read on. If this is not to your taste, just go to the song itself, which you will discover has an extra verse. The reason? Ah, if you really want to know that, then you’ll just have to read on!

McAlpine’s Fusiliers is an Irish ballad set to a traditional air, popularised in the early 1960s by Dominic Behan.

The song relates to the migration of Irish labourers from Ireland to Britain during the 20th century. The ballad’s title refers to the eponymous construction company of Sir Robert McAlpine, a major employer of Irish workmen at the time. John Laing and Wimpey (also referred to in the opening monologue; an integral part of the ballad although not included in some cover versions of the song) were other major construction companies employing Irish ‘navvies’ (a British term referring to building labourers and originally coined for the labourers who built the British canals or ‘navigations’)

The colloquial and local terms in the song’s monologue and lyrics include references to a ‘spike’ (a hostel or ‘reception centre’ sometimes used by Irish navvies who could not find or afford lodgings) and to ‘shuttering’ (a rapidly constructed wooden casing made to hold concrete while it sets). Holyhead, also referred to in the monologue, is a port on Anglesey (Ynys Môn) in Wales where the main ferry service across the Irish Sea from Dún Laoghaire used to dock.

Cricklewood is a district of North West London which had a relatively large Irish population. The Isle of Grain is an area in Kent where the River Medway joins the Thames Estuary east of London which was a large construction site for several years while a large power station was built there The song offers a satirical view of the life and work of the Irish labourers of the times and as such proved popular.

While some sources suggest that the words of the song were derived from an earlier poem or poems, the song’s arrangement was attributed to Dominic Behan. Along with a number of other songs, Behan provided the song to The Dubliners for use in a new set-structure In its original form, the song was performed in two parts, a spoken monologue (originally spoken by Ronnie Drew of The Dubliners self-accompanied by his flamenco guitar) followed by the sung verses supported by the full band. [Below is the spoken monologue]

Twas in the year of 39 and the sky was filled with lead
Hitler was heading for Poland and Paddy for Holyhead.
Come all you Pincher Laddies and you long distance men
Never work for McAlpine, or Wimpey or John Laing
For he’ll stick you behind the mixer ‘til your skin is turned to tan
And shout come on you Paddy with your passport in your hand.
The craic was good in Cricklewood but they wouldn’t leave The Crown
There was bottles flying and Biddy’s crying, sure, Paddy was going to town.
Oh mother dear I’m over here and I’m never going back
What keeps me here is the rake of beer the women and the craic.

[Source above, adapted from Wikipedia]

For many years it has been an open secret among Irishmen who toiled in the construction trade in England that Dominic Behan did not write the words to McAlpine’s Fusiliers.

When the song was released by the Dubliners in 1965, Dominic was given credit for writing the words, and Essex Music International got the copyright.

But the reality according to many people who were around that environment in that era is that what Dominic did was to use his undoubted writing skills to tidy up and make presentable the rhymes that had been passed around construction sites all over Britain since the start of the second World War.

Even his own brother Brian accused him on a national television talk show of stealing the words and then went on to say that the nearest that Dominic had ever came to working on a building site was when he posed as a hod-carrier with a straw hat on his head.

So, who did write McAlpine’s Fusiliers? Well according to numerous sources the originator of most of the words was a labourer by the name of Martin Henry from Rooskey, on the East Mayo/ South Sligo border.

He was the youngest member of the well-known Henry family who were famed for their fiddle playing.

As often happens, Henry’s words would have been passed around from job to job on scraps of paper, where aspiring site poets would add a line here and there and pub laureates would recite verses of it when sufficient ale was taken on a Saturday night. It seems likely that by the mid-1950’s the words were fairly well known among Irish navvies.

There’s other evidence that back up the case for Martin Henry. He wrote a poem, The Men of 39, which is like the monologue that Ronnie Drew of the Dubliners uses to introduce McAlpine’s Fusiliers. Also, Martin Henry was a near neighbour and good friend of the legendary ‘Darkie Finn’ who was from Cloonlarin, just inside the Mayo border and they worked together in Kent, England, on the massive Isle of Grain, Power Station that was being built by McAlpine’s in the 1950s.

This project hired thousands of Irish workers and was also the scene of some violent incidents between Connemara men and Dublin men that stemmed from a card game and carried on sporadically for years.

The second verse of the song attributed to Behan starts, “I stripped to the skin with the Darkie Finn down by the Isle of Grain.”Pat ‘the Darkie’ Finn’, was regarded as a highly skilled and sought-after shuttering carpenter who is also mentioned in a verse of a different song.

“I watched the frame take the strain, but the concrete all caved in
And George Wimpey searched all Manchester ‘til he found the Darkie Finn.”

Now here are the words of the poem The Men O’ 39 which many people credit with being the penmanship and poetry of Martin Henry. It was quite a lengthy poem so I’ll just show [lines below from it] but I think you will be able to see the similarities.

Come all you Pincher Kiddies and all long distance men,
You may be over in this land, nine years or maybe ten,
You may have tramped this country o’er from Plymouth to the Tyne,
But there’s not a word about the boys sir came in ‘39.
There’s not a word about the lads from old Kinsale,
And took the road to Dublin; from Dun Laoghaire they did sail.
The man up in the Globe Hotel, he gave them the ‘o’grand’,
Saying, good luck upon you Paddy, with the passport in your hand.
Some of those Pincher Kiddies came when England needed men,
His catchword was to catch for the famous Darky Finn.
To slave behind a mixer until your skin turned tanned,
And to say, good on you Paddy, with the passport in your hand.
Now all of you who stayed at home and never crossed the pond,
And didn’t work for Wimpey, McAlpine or John Laing,
Or slave behind a mixer until your skin is tanned,
And to say goodbye to you Paddy, with your passport in your hand.
[We’ll let the jury decide that one…]

There was also another verse in the McAlpine’s Fusiliers song that wasn’t used as part of the release. Old-timers have said that they often used this verse as the second one to last. It refers to the common practice on big jobs of bringing in a Catholic priest on a Sunday to say mass for the men who had to work. As this verse shows the foremen and ganger men were not always too pleased with this practice.

And it came to pass, we should go to mass
On the Immaculate Conception
The foreman met us at the gate
And gave us a terrible reception
“Get down the sewers, ye Kerry hoors
And never mind your prayers
For the only God is a well filled hod
With McAlpine’s Fusiliers

So, it seems that Dominic Behan had a huge amount of material to work with and in fairness to him he was a prolific songwriter and he did rearrange the words, tidy things up and compose a very good, rousing song. The melody he used was a speeded-up version of the haunting tune that accompanied the song The Foggy Dew.

Ronnie Drew, Dominic Behan, Martin Henry and very few of those men who worked on those huge construction projects are still alive, so the question will probably always remain a mystery regarding who wrote the words to ‘McAlpine’s Fusiliers?’ But does it really matter? It’s a great song. My wife, Bridie, (a traditionalist if ever there was one!) is opposed to the extended version I have cobbled together (that is, the inclusion of the extra verse) saying that it is not in keeping with the rest of the song

But if any of you readers ever venture around the south Sligo-east Mayo border and pop into towns with names like Rooskey, Cloontia or Sheskeen and ask the locals who wrote the words to McAlpine’s Fusiliers the answer will be a resounding – Martin Henry. If you mention the name Dominic Behan, they will say, “The man from Dublin popularised it, but our own Martin Henry wrote it!” (source above, irelandsown.ie)

So, now that we have explored the disputed origins of McAlpine’s Fusiliers, where does that leave this version of the song? I will forego the spoken intro to the song, but, I’m going to adapt and incorporate the old-timers’ penultimate verse which is italicised and underlined above- I guess because, now, as a septuagenarian, I’m an old-timer, too.

And, because I have incorporated the penultimate verse that, almost undeniably, Martin Henry wrote, which expands the song from four to five verses, I will be so bold as to credit the song lyrics jointly to Martin Henry and Dominic Behan. It seems only fair, after reviewing the evidence above. After all, it’s been fifty-five years since The Dubliners record credited Dominic Behan alone…

McAlpine’s Fusiliers (expanded)

McAlpine’s Fusiliers (Expanded version)

Whiskey in the Jar (redux)

“Whiskey in a Jar,” one of the best known traditional Irish vocal ballads, probably originated in the mid-17th century, according to folklorist Alan Lomax, and it has been found in dozens of forms on both sides of the Atlantic. It tells the story of a highwayman (robber) who robs a military officer and who is subsequently betrayed by his woman. “Whiskey in a Jar” has been recorded by dozens upon dozens of traditional artists, but has also been taken in a rock and roll direction, first by Thin Lizzy (who recorded a version learned from Irish trad sources), and then by the Grateful Dead (who recorded a version learned from American trad sources), and then most successfully by Metallica, who won a 2000 Grammy Award for Best Hard Rock Performance for their version, which was likely learned directly from Thin Lizzy, rather than a traditional source. The song is, as one might guess from the title, a favourite drinking and pub song among fans of Irish music all over the world. “Whiskey in a Jar,” like “Danny Boy,” is a favourite on St. Patrick’s Day. (source Megan Romer, liveabout.com)

The song’s exact origins are unknown. Several of its lines and the general plot resemble those of a contemporary broadside ballad “Patrick Fleming” (also called “Patrick Flemmen he was a Valiant Soldier”) about Irish highwayman Patrick Fleming, who was executed in 1650.

In the book The Folk Songs of North America, folk music historian Alan Lomax suggests that the song originated in the 17th century, and (based on plot similarities) that John Gay’s 1728 The Beggar’s Opera was inspired by Gay hearing an Irish ballad-monger singing “Whiskey in the Jar”. In regard to the history of the song, Lomax states, “The folk of seventeenth century Britain liked and admired their local highwaymen; and in Ireland (or Scotland) where the gentlemen of the roads robbed English landlords, they were regarded as national patriots. Such feelings inspired this rollicking ballad.”

At some point, the song came to the United States and was a favourite in Colonial America because of its irreverent attitude toward British officials. The American versions are sometimes set in America and deal with American characters. One such version, from Massachusetts, is about Alan McCollister, an Irish-American soldier who is sentenced to death by hanging for robbing British officials.

The song appeared in a form close to its modern version in a precursor called “The Sporting Hero, or, Whiskey in the Bar” in a mid-1850s broadsheet.

The song collector Colm Ó Lochlainn, in his book Irish Street Ballads, described how his mother learnt “Whiskey in the Jar” in Limerick in 1870 from a man called Buckley who came from Cork. When Ó Lochlainn included the song in Irish Street Ballads, he wrote down the lyrics from memory as he had learnt them from his mother. He called the song “There’s Whiskey in the Jar”, and the lyrics are virtually identical to the version that was used by Irish bands in the 1960s such as the Dubliners. The O Lochlainn version refers to the “far fam’d Kerry mountain” rather than the Cork and Kerry mountains, as appears in some versions.

The song also appears under the title “There’s Whiskey in the Jar” in the Joyce collection, but that only includes the melody line without any lyrics. Versions of the song were collected in the 1920s in Northern Ireland by song collector Sam Henry. (Source above, the excellent Wikipedia- do donate)

I learned the song early in 1972 from one of the booklets from the series, Irish Folk Songs. With Seannachie in Wollongong, Tony Fitzgerald sang it and later, with Banter in Sydney in the 1990s, Sam the Man sang it. However, down the years, when I was singing on my own in pubs or clubs or as a duo with my wife, I would regularly wheel out the old warhorse. The virus allows this virtual version.

The version here is a Band-in-a-Box/Real Band folk-rock rendition featuring bass guitar, drums, organ, finger-picked 12-string guitar and strummed guitar. Bluegrass fiddle and bluegrass mandolin share alternating verse accompaniment roles until the final chorus when everything is firing. I like to think that this arrangement celebrates the transatlantic aspects of the song.

Whiskey in the Jar (redux)

Spancil Hill (redux)

In Song 44: Spancil Hill, I wrote: “Another much loved and requested song from the 70s onwards, in my experience. It was originally a poem written by Michael Considine, who left for America in the wake of the Great Famine. He hoped to make enough money to return home and marry his sweetheart. He died at age 23 in 1873, without ever having fulfilled his dreams. But he sent a poem to his nephew on which the song is based. The punch and power of the ballad, even in its popular, abbreviated form is a testament to his feeling for “my first and only love”.” Now, almost a decade on, I’ll put a bit more info around this.

Spancil Hill is in County Clare…its fair is one of the oldest horse fairs in Ireland…held annually on 23 June. Spancil refers to the practice of “spancilling,” which was to use a short rope to tie an animal’s left fore-leg to its right hind leg, thereby hobbling the animal and stopping it from wandering too far.

Michael Considine… emigrated to the United States of America around 1870. He left intending to make enough money to send for his sweetheart so they could be married. Her name was Mary MacNamara, and she is mentioned in the original song as ‘Mack the Ranger’s daughter’.

Considine worked in Boston for two years or so before moving to California. In failing health, he wrote the poem in memory of the hometown he would not live to see again and posted it to his young nephew in Ireland. Michael Considine died in California in 1873 at the age of twenty-three.

The rendition of the late singer/songwriter Robbie McMahon, who died in 2012 at the age of eighty-six, is widely regarded as the definitive version of Spancil Hill. [There is an external link in the Wikipedia article, from which the information above is taken, on Spancil Hill of Robbie singing the song in Dublin in 1993- it’s worth checking out.]

A lilter, he was renowned for his performance of the Mason’s Apron, in which he simulated the sound of both the fiddle and accompanying banjo.

Possessed of a store of jokes, ranging from the hilarious to the unprintable, he was as much a character as a singer and was more comfortable with the craic and banter of casual sessions than with formal concerts.

He was the subject of a film documentary Last Night As I Lay Dreaming. Clare County Council hosted a civic reception in his honour in 2010, and he was the recipient of the Fleadh Nua Gradam Ceoil in 2011.

The best known version of the song is that sung by the Dubliners and Christy Moore, which is highly abbreviated and makes a number of changes to the lyrics – for example renaming the protagonist “Johnny” instead of “Mike”, and describing his love as daughter of a farmer instead of the local ranger. (Notes above from The Irish Times obituary of 29 December 2012.)

I first learned the song from a Johnny McEvoy record in 1972 and I sang it around Wollongong when we moved there. At present, Sam the Man sings it with our group Banter (now in suspended animation thanks to the virus).

Here I use Band-in-a-Box/Real Band and n-Track 9 to present a folk-pop version with drums, bass, piano, two guitars, mandolin, fiddle and harmonica (not all playing at once!) If you want to check out the version that is closer to the Banter sound go to Song 44 and compare.

If I ever get around to re-recording the song, I will sing the Robbie McMahon version as truer to the original poem.

Spancil Hill (redux)

The Old Maid in the Garret

The Old Maid In The Garrett was recorded by The Clancys , The Flying Column , Steeleye Span, The Dublin City Ramblers. This song dates to the 17th century but the lyrics here are 19th century[sic?] by Martin Parker from London- Not a song you would hear a lot of women sing. A garret is a habitable attic ( loft) or small and often dismal or cramped living space at the top of a house. This was the least prestigious position in a building, and often had sloping ceilings.(notes above by Martin Dardis from his great site, irish-folk-songs.com)

However, when I went looking for Martin Parker, songwriter of 19^th Century London I was thrown back a couple of hundred years to:

Parker, Martin (fl. 1624–1647), ballad writer, is an obscure figure. He was probably a Londoner, as his writings were most closely associated with metropolitan culture, though his stories are populated by northern lasses, and were read throughout England. (The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography.)

Martin Parker (c. 1600 – c. 1656) was an English ballad writer, and probably a London tavern-keeper. About 1625 he seems to have begun publishing ballads… John Dryden considered him the best ballad writer of his time. His sympathies were with the Royalist cause during the Civil War, and it was in support of the declining fortunes of Charles I of England that he wrote the best known of his ballads, When the king enjoys his own again, which he first published in 1643, and which, after enjoying great popularity at the Restoration, became a favourite Jacobite song in the 18th century. Parker also wrote a nautical ballad, Sailors for my Money, which in a revised version survives as When the stormy winds do blow. It is not known when he died, but the appearance in 1656 of a funeral elegy, in which the ballad writer was satirically celebrated is perhaps a correct indication of the date of his death. A couple of quotations attributed to Martin Parker are given below:

Ye gentlemen of England/That live at home at ease,/Ah! little do you think upon/The dangers of the seas. This taken from Ye Gentlemen of England, (c. 1630), reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations. Also: In ancient times all things were cheape/’Tis good to look before you leape/When come is ripe ’tis time to reape. From The Roxburghe Ballads (c. 1630), reported in Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations.

(Notes above from the wonderful Wikipedia and Wikiquotes. If you use this resource, as I frequently do, donate something, when you can, to keep this free resource available to all)

This was one of the first songs I learnt when I was whaling away on my old acoustic and dreaming of fame and fortune- as you do as a young’un. Later, after we moved to Australia, (me, my wife and daughter), we sang this song as part of our set as a folk duo in Wollongong at a couple of restaurants that were trialling folk music as part of their offering to the grazing public (though not our young daughter- we left her with a baby-sitter whenever we went out for such occasions).

When Bridie would sing this song she would gaze kindly at me when she sang the words, There is nothing in this wide world that would make me half so cheery/ As a wee, fat man who would call me his own deary Not that I minded- I got, by far, the better of the deal!

Now, almost fifty years down the track, Banter features this song with Sam the Man taking the vocal credits: but, were you there, you could hear me bellowing the two-line chorus with him- this was when there was such a thing as singing in pubs and clubs. Our coronavirus experts tell us that such singing is really a virus firehose. So, even, the singing of hymns in church is strictly verboten!

I use a Country Outlaw vibe for the instrumentation behind this version, which is sort of out there in left-field, (to use a term from baseball). And because we are still in lockdown, I get to sing the song.

The Old Maid in the Garrett

A Bunch of Thyme

The Sprig of Thyme, The Seeds of Love, Maiden’s Lament, Garners Gay, Let No Man Steal Your Thyme or Rue (Roud #3) is a traditional British and Irish folk ballad that uses botanical and other symbolism to warn young people of the dangers in taking false lovers. The song was first documented in 1689 and the many variants go by a large number of titles.(from Wikipedia)

The metaphor of the garden within which are found, the herb- thyme, and the flower- the rose, are potent symbols in song and literature. One can find such metaphors in the Bible and other texts stretching back millennia. If you want to know more about the meaning of flowers, google Floriography; or just check it out on Wikipedia. You will sink into a thicket of references bewildering in number, scope and meaning. The scents will send your head spinning.

That such a sweet-sounding melody is undercut by the symbolism inherent in the plants mentioned gives the song its peculiar force. Thyme and time are obvious homophones and the warning in the first verse is telling. Tending your garden- chastity, and keeping it fair- preserving your virginity, leads to the admonition to “Let no man steal away your thyme”.

Verse two is a wistful remembrance of how precious and unrecoverable is that which brings all things to her mind- thyme.

Enters a lusty sailor in verse three and what follows, hot on the heels of the warned-against deed, is the consequence in verse four. Some say that consequence is the canker or sore on the skin- the rose which never would decay which is a manifestation of the dire underlying condition: syphilis- an untreatable and sometimes fatal venereal disease typically carried by those sailors who were frequenters of low establishments in far-flung exotic ports.

I have an idea that Christy collected the version he sings from a woman in England. And, according to an internet source (so it must be true…) he gave it to Foster and Allen which kick-started their career. Be nice if it were true.

I first heard this on Christy Moore’s LP Whatever Tickles Your Fancy which sported a cover photo of a young Christy leaning against a dart-board. No fancy or fanciful artwork at play here at all! This would have been in 1976. I brought it back from a holiday in Northern Ireland to Australia along with a bunch of other great folk albums, and the band I was in then, Seannachie, started to feature it.

In the 1990s, our mandolin player, Jim, featured this song as part of Banter’s repertoire. We haven’t performed it in the latest iteration of the group in the past few years, but I think it’s worth a re-visit and I’ll sing it if Jim doesn’t feel the urge. And if the virus gives us peace (and I’m not referring to the REST IN sort!) You can find Banter’s recording of it, featuring Jim’s singing, on Banter I- song 2 which was done around the table and not in public performance.

This arrangement features a couple of guitars, bass, Nashville drums, organ, mandolin and fiddle in a soft folk-rock mode.

A Bunch of Thyme

O’Sullivan’s John

Patrick “Pecker” Dunne (1 April 1933 – 19 December 2012^]) was an Irish musician and seanchaí. [storyteller]

Dunne was born in Castlebar, County Mayo, “in the old county home”. His family were Irish Travellers originally from County Wexford, where his father was a fiddle player. He was one of Ireland’s most noted banjo players and was also proficient on the fiddle, melodeon and guitar, and was among an elite of Traveller musicians.

Dunne became known to a wide Irish audience from his regular busking at GAA sporting fixtures, particularly in Munster. Later he played in England, France, Australia and New York City, where he appeared with The Dubliners. He also performed alongside Richard Harris and Stephen Rea in the 1996 feature film Trojan Eddie.

He lived in Killimer, County Clare with his wife and four children. He died there, aged 79, and is buried in Burrane, near Killimer. (Thanks to Wikipedia for the notes above.)

Gifted musician, storyteller and activist Paddy Pecker Dunne has died.

In a statement, the Temple Bar Company said it regretted to announce his death at the age of 80.

“We were honoured to work with Farcry productions to facilitate a gala benefit concert for Pecker Dunne during the 2012 Temple Bar Tradfestival,” it said. “Our thoughts are now with his wife and family at this sad time.”

Artistic director of the Tradfestival Kieran Hanrahan praised Dunne’s musical abilities.

“The Pecker mastered the art and craft of many an instrument, the mandolin, the fiddle and the banjo,” he said.

“He was distinctively known for his most precious of gifts, his voice, and what that voice could deliver. It was the envy of some of the world’s most renowned rock, pop, folk and traditional singers.”

Dunne, a traveller, wrote songs and music to describe injustices and prejudices he and his community faced.

He busked nationwide and played with The Dubliners, who covered his song Sullivans John, and he also played with Christy Moore and The Fureys.

Some of the exploits and anecdotes he was renowned for telling were his meeting Woody Guthrie in Boston, his friendship and work with Richard Harris and playing New York’s Carnegie Hall.

His music career was marked with a gala benefit night at Dublin City Hall last January. (The above is taken from an obituary published by the Belfast Telegraph on December 20, 2012.)

I first heard this song in Wollongong in 1974 when Joe Brown, Bertie McKnight, Tony Fitzgerald and I formed the group, Seannachie. Bertie told me he heard it from the writer, Pecker Dunne. Tony, a Londoner of Irish descent and our main singer,would belt this out at venues around the Illawarra.

But I like the song from first I heard it and would sing it- almost as a party piece- at informal gatherings in various places down the decades. I brought the song to Banter and look forward to being able to sing it at a pub or club in front of an audience-remember that phenomenon from pre-COVID times?

I only use two chords for this song, say, C and Bb, which swings along in 3/4 time. Quite a few Irish songs can be rendered with just two chords. I guess some of us might look at all those three-chord trickers as virtual demi-gods!

The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down

The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” is a song written by Robbie Robertson and originally recorded by the Canadian-American roots rock group The Band in 1969 and released on their eponymous second album. Levon Helm provided the lead vocals. The song is a first-person narrative relating the economic and social distress experienced by the protagonist, a poor white Southerner, during the last year of the American Civil War, when George Stoneman was raiding southwest Virginia. The song appeared at number 245 on Rolling Stone magazine’s list of the 500 greatest songs of all time.

Joan Baez recorded a version of the song that became a top-five chart hit in late 1971.

Then the concept came to him and he researched the subject with help from the Band’s drummer Levon Helm, a native of Arkansas. In his 1993 autobiography, This Wheel’s on Fire, Helm wrote, “Robbie and I worked on ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down’ up in Woodstock. I remember taking him to the library so he could research the history and geography of the era and make General Robert E. Lee come out with all due respect.”

The last time the song was performed by Helm was in The Last Waltz. Helm refused to play the song afterwards. Although it has long been believed that the reason for Helm’s refusal to play the song was a dispute with Robertson over songwriting credits; according to Garth Hudson, the refusal was due to Helm’s dislike for Joan Baez’s version.

Ralph J. Gleason (in the review in Rolling Stone (U.S. edition only) of October 1969) explains why this song has such an impact on listeners:

Nothing I have read … has brought home the overwhelming human sense of history that this song does. The only thing I can relate it to at all is The Red Badge of Courage. It’s a remarkable song, the rhythmic structure, the voice of Levon and the bass line with the drum accents and then the heavy close harmony of Levon, Richard and Rick in the theme, make it seem impossible that this isn’t some traditional material handed down from father to son straight from that winter of 1865 to today. It has that ring of truth and the whole aura of authenticity. (notes from Wikipedia- donate if you can)

I first heard the song in 1971- the Joan Baez version. It wasn’t until years later that I came across the original when I watched the documentary by Scorcese, The Last Waltz in the mid-80s when I was living in Ballymena, Co Antrim in Northern Ireland. When Banter was formed in the mid-90s in western Sydney, Big Geordie introduced his take on the song to the band and we performed it, off and on, for the few years he was part of the band. It wasn’t until 2015, when Banter re-formed after a decade+ hiatus that I picked the song up and started to perform it.

Levon Helm’s refusal, according to Garth Hudson, to play and sing the song because of his dislike of Baez’s version strikes me as odd. However, we can’t check with the source as, alas, Levon Helm is no longer with us.

The version set down here is probably situated somewhere between Baez and Helm. Johnny Cash recorded a version that is worth a listen.

The Night they Drove Old Dixie Down