Welcome back to Folk Infusion- we've had a two day haitus due to troubles with the blog site, but we're back for Friday's drinking song! I'll be heading down to Merlin's Rest tonight for the 8:00 Celtic session, so in that spirit, today's selection is "The Old Dun Cow" a song I first heard from the St. Paul Irish singer, Tom Dahill. It was written in 1893 by the English pub-song writer Harry Wincott. The dun (light brown) cow is a common motif in English folk lore, and an equally common name for English drinking establishments.
Dun Cow is a common English pub name
The song tells the story of a band of stalwart men who, faced with a fire in the pub, bravely stay behind to rescue the liquor from the conflagration by passing it through their bloodstreams and livers. The song is a great sing-along for pubs, as one line ("don't let them in 'til it's all mopped up/somebody shouted MacIntyre") allows the audience to loudly shout, "MacIntyre!" at the top of their ale-besotted lungs. The significance of "MacIntyre" or why it is to be shouted is lost to the foggy mists of time. It's been speculated that it's cockney rhyming slang or a mock-up of the same. Others maintain that the original version went, "don't let them in 'til it's all mopped up, somebody said to MacIntyre", and was later changed. It's also possible that Wincott just needed a word that rhymed with "fire", and figured he'd give the audience something to shout in the process, thus improving the song immensely. While the song was originally English, it has since been adopted by the Celtic music scene, especially Irish-Americans (it appeals, perhaps, to the demographic of the audience that comes to an Irish show expecting drinking songs rather than mournful ballads about land theft, infanticide, and martyrdom).
Unfortunately, I can't find Dahill's great rendition, but this one will do:
The lyrics of the song vary from place as place as tradition and inebriation dictates, but the basic gist is as follows:
Some friends and I
in a public house
Was playing a game of chance[1] one night
When into the pub a fireman ran
His face all a chalky white.
"What's up", says Brown, "Have you seen a ghost,
Or have you seen your Aunt Mariah?"
"Me Aunt Mariah be buggered!", says he,
"The bleedin' pub's on fire!"
"On fire?", says Brown, "What a bit of luck!
"Everybody follow me![2]
down in the cellar, if the fire ain't there,
we'll have a rare old spree!"
so we all went down with good old Brown
and beer we could not miss
and we hadn't been ten minutes there
when we were all quite pissed
And there was Brown
upside down
Lappin'' up the whiskey on the floor.
"Booze, booze!" The firemen cried
As they came knockin' on the door (clap clap)
Oh don't let 'em in till it's all drunk up
And somebody shouted MacIntyre! [entire pub shouts: MACINTYRE!]
And we all got blue-blind paralytic drunk
When the Old Dun Cow caught fire.
Then, Smith walked
over to the port wine tub
And gave it just a few hard knocks (clap clap)
Started takin' off his pantaloons
Likewise his shoes and socks.
"Hold on, " says Brown, "that ain't allowed
Ya cannot do that thing here.
Don't go washin' your trousers in the port wine tub
When we got all this light beer."
chorus
[rare optional verse]
Don't be Shane McGowan. Drink responsibly.
Then there came from
the old back door
The Vicar of the local church.
And when he saw our drunken ways,
He began to scream and curse.
"Ah, you drunken sods! You heathen clods!
You've taken to a drunken spree!
You drank up all the Benedictine wine
And you didn't save a drop for me!"
chorus
And then there came
a mighty crash
Half the bloody roof caved in.
We were almost drowned in the firemen's hose
But still we were gonna stay.
So we got some tacks and some old wet sacks
And we nailed ourselves inside
And we sat drinking the finest Rum[3]
Till we were bleary-eyed.
Chorus
[optional final verse]
Later that night,
when the fire was out
We came up from the cellar below.
Our pub was burned. Our booze was drunk.
Our heads was hanging low.
"Oh look", says Brown with a look quite queer.
Seems something raised his ire.
"Now we gotta get down to Murphy's Pub,
It closes on the hour!"
Chorus
[1] Alternative: "were playing dominoes one/last night"
[2] Alt: "Come along with me", says he!
[3] Alt: pints of stout
Today's song is Jordan Is A Hard Road to Travel, a folk standard with a huge variety of interesting derivations and a... questionable history.
The song was first composed in 1853 by the blackface minstrel Dan Emmett. Daniel Decatur Emmett was one of the 'pioneers', so to speak, of the minstrel tradition, founding the first all-blackface troupe and beginning the minstrel show as a main event rather than a part of a larger performance. Dan Emmett is also known for writing the song "Dixie", which became a Confederate anthem.
Dan Emmett in blackface
The blackface tradition marks an ugly time in American folk music history, when crudely caricatured stereotypes of African-Americans were used for comedic entertainment. The character rose to prominence in a theatrical climate where stereotyped, over-the-top stock characters representing various ethnicities and social classes was the norm. The representation of the 'Jim Crow' blackface character was as a buffoonish, lazy, superstitious, cowardly, and lascivious character. Black people were often portrayed as pathological criminals and thieves. Lines were typically delivered in heavily mangled imitations of the black vernacular.
The portrayal of black women, typically by white men who were both wearing blackface and cross-dressing, presented black women as either grotesquely unattractive or, conversely, highly sexualized.
The blackface tradition deserves careful and critical examination of its full role as a force of cultural appropriation, mockery, and dissemination, including its development and continuing impacts. Unfortunately, this blog is not the proper forum for such a necessarily sensitive and in-depth investigation at this time, as our purpose in this post is to explore the individual song and its derivatives. Therefore, for the time being, I encourage readers interested in the history of blackface to seek out existing works that treat on the issue, and remind all readers that blackface is considered very hurtful and highly offensive. This blog does not endorse or encourage the use of blackface, and cautions anybody from attempting it in any circumstances.
It is worth noting that although Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel is indeed a song originated in blackface minstrely, it has since entered into the collection of general folk songs, and in its modern rendition does not generally carry the racist connotations, intent, and mockery that typify the blackface tradition. Rather than being a mimicking song meant to evoke stereotypes of a clownish black person, it is now sung earnestly and unironically by bluegrass and folk musicians. Indeed, the original lyrics of Dan Emmett's version (which, by all accounts, was a modular and ever-changing collection of verses) are largely forgotten, being replaced for most musicians by the lyrics written by Uncle Dave Macon. Macon, who recorded the song in 1927, used words that had an anti-automobile message- perhaps influenced by Macon's former employment as a horse-and-buggy driver and goods hauler.
For Uncle David Macon's lyrics, see the following arrangement by Norman and Nancy Blake.
1. I'm gonna sing you a brand new song,
It's all the truth for certain;
We cain't live high, but we can get by,
And get on the other side of Jordan.
Chorus: Oh, pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeves,
Jordan's a hard road to travel;
Oh, pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeves,
Oh, Jordan is a hard road to travel, I believe.
2. The public schools and the highways
Are raisin' quite an alarm;
Get a country man educated just a little,
And he ain't a-gonna work on the farm.
3. I don't know, but I b'lieve I'm right,
The auto's ruined the country;
Let's go back to the horse and buggy,
And try to save some money.
4. I know a man that's an evangelist,
His tabernacle's always full;
People come from miles around
Just to hear him shoot the bull.
5. You may talk about your evangelist,
You may talk about Mister Ford too;
Well, Henry's shakin' more hell out of folks Than all the evangelists
do.
6. Rain forty nights, gonna rain forty days,
Gonna rain on the Allegheny mountains;
Gonna rain forty horses and dominicker mules,
Gonna take us on the other side of Jordan.
The original lyrics, as mentioned earlier, were variable. An example of an early, minstrel show version of the song might go something like this:
Around the Crystal Palace there are a great many shows, Where all the country green horns are drawn in-- There're snakes and alligators, mammouth mules and big 'taters, That were raised upon the other side of Jordan.
Chorus:
Pull up your overcoat and roll up your sleeve
Jordan am a hard road to travel
pull off your overcoat and roll up your sleeve
Jordan am a hard road to travel I believe
The sovereign of the seas, she went to Liverpool, In less than fourteen days, too, according, Johnny Bull he wiped his eyes, and looked with surprise, At this clipper from the Yankee side of Jordan.
The ladies of England have sent a big address About slavery, and all its horrors, according, They had better look at home, to their own white slaves, That are starving on the English side of Jordan.
They have got o bearded lady down at Barnum's show, And lots of pictures outside, according, She's going to take her eye-lashes for a pair of mustaches, For to trabble on the other side of Jordan.
The Duchess of Southerland, she keeps the Stafford House, The place where the "Black Swan" is boarding; At a musical party, they asked for a song, And she gave them--On the other side of Jordan.
Our great father, Washington, he was a mighty man, And all the Yankees do their fighting according, They will raise the flag of freedom whereever they can, Till they plant it on the other side of Jordan.
There are two derivatives that bear mentioning off of Jordan Is A Hard Road to Travel- the first is a New York ballad called the "Dead Rabbit Song", and the second is a Union army marching song called "Richmond Is a Hard Road to Travel"
Dead Rabbits in Scorcese's film, "Gangs of New York"
Readers might recognize the name "Dead Rabbits" from Martin Scorcese's film, The Gangs of New York. While the film did have some historical inaccuracies as is to be expected of Hollywood, it is true that the Dead Rabbits were a largely Irish-American gang in the Five Points area of New York. The Dead Rabbit uniform was a red stripe on the leg of their pants, a
counterpoint to the Roach Guard blue stripe. When engaged in riots and
street fights, their emblem was a slain rabbit impaled on a spike. The name may have come from the Gaelic "Raibead", meaning 'great, hulking person', appended with 'Dead', slang for 'very'- thus, the Dead Rabbits were "very big people". Its leaders included such figure as Aidan Bourke, 'The Black Dog', perhaps named after the mythological black dogs and Cu-Sidhe hounds of the British Isle, thought to be portents of death.
Also called the Black Birds, the Dead Rabbits were originally part of the Roach Guards, an Irish Five Points gang started in the early 19th century to protect liquor merchants. The Dead Rabbits broke off of the Roach Guards, and the two gangs swore a bitter rivalry against each other, engaging in near-constant fighting over the Five Points. Elsewhere, however, they united with the Roach Guards and other Irish gangs such as the Shirt Tails and Chichesters to fight the Bowery Boys.
The Bowery Boys were a nativist, anti-Irish, and anti-Catholic gang . Their base of operations, as their name implies, was the Bowery north of the Five Points. As depicted in Scorcese's film, the Bowery Boys frequently dressed in dressed in black stovepipe hats, red shirts, black flared trousers, high-heeled calfskin boots and black vests, with oil-slicked hair.
Anti-Catholic cartoon from the 1800s. Note the Bishop-gators.
The Bowery Boys were a nativist, anti-Irish, and anti-Catholic gang .
Their base of operations, as their name implies, was the Bowery north of
the Five Points. As depicted in Scorcese's film, the Bowery Boys
frequently dressed in dressed in black stovepipe hats, red shirts, black
flared trousers, high-heeled calfskin boots and black vests, with
oil-slicked hair. Famous members of the Bowery Boys included William "Bill the Butcher" Poole (sometimes referred to instead as the leader of the Atlantic Guards, an allied gang), and the gang's leader, Mose the Fireboy.
The gang and ethnic rivalry was closely tied to the rivalry within the Democratic Party political machine that operated in New York City. This rivalry pitted supporters of Tammany Hall and Mayor Fernando Wood against those in opposition to his administration. The Dead Rabbits were aligned with Wood, while the Bowery Boys opposed him and allied themselves with the Democratic opposition, the nativist Know-Nothing Party (or "American Party"), and with state Republicans who sought to strip Wood of certain powers by handing jurisdiction to a number of issues over to the state. These plans included the replacement of the Municipal Police Department with a state-managed Metropolitan Police Department. While legislation was passed that created the Metropolitan Police, Wood refused to disband the Municipal Police. The first half of 1857, therefor, saw running street battles between the two departments and each side's supporting gangs despite a court order that the city disband the Municipal police by July.
On July 4th, this conflict came to a head at the Dead Rabbits Riot. The Dead Rabbits had planned to raid a Bowery Boys clubhouse that day, and marched towards the place with a coalition of Five Points street gangs. The Bowery gangs met this assault at the clubhouse. Heavy fighting ensued, and the Bowery gangs eventually drove the Five Point gangs back to Paradise Square after heavy street fighting, with conflicts in Pearl, Chatham Streets, and the north part of Park Row.
The Dead Rabbits Riot
The next day, the Dead Rabbits struck again, attacking the Green Dragon on Broome Street, a Bowery Boys joint. Catching the Bowery Boys by surprise, the Rabbits wrecked the bar, tore up the dance floor, and drank or absconded with all the alcohol. The incensed Bowery Boys called on the other Bowery gangs to repel the Five Pointers, and heavy fighting ensued at Bayard Street, quickly growing to become the largest gang battle in the city's history. An attempt by a Metropolian police officer to arrest the leaders of the fight was met with the officer being stripped and beaten by the gangs. This officer returned to the precinct to request aid. Around mid-day, a squad of Metropolitan police to make arrests. Their presence, however, briefly united the gangs, who climbed into the roof tops and rained bricks down on the police to secure the release of captured gang members. The police retreated, prompting a short truce between the gangs.
This truce was broken mere hours later, when a group of Dead Rabbits, prompted by Five Points women, attacked the Bowery gangs at The Tombs. The renewed fighting so occupied the police force, that other gangs and criminals took advantage of the chaos to commit crimes and carry on fights elsewhere in the city. This grew the fight, which involved some 800-1000 gang members, into a larger riot involving hundreds of others who opportunistically looted the Bowery.
By the afternoon, the Metropolitan police came back in greater force. This time, they were able to briefly clear the streets, arresting large numbers of men including some gang leaders. At about this time, a degree of collusion began between the Bowery Boys and Metropolitans, both focusing on the Dead Rabbits. The police surge briefly quieted the streets, but fighting resumed almost immediately, and further attempts by the police to penetrate the riot proved unsuccessful. By the evening, the underworld-connected political boss of the Sixth Ward, Isaiah Ryders, was called in by the police to address the crowd and ask them to stop fighting. This effort failed, as Ryders was driven away by stones and bricks. At this point, with fires burning in the city and no end in sight to the violence, the police made the decision to call in the military. By 9:00 pm, two local regiments of the New York National Guard accompanied by 150 Metropolitan police swept through the riot area. This show of force managed to quell the riot, and police and guardsmen patrolled the area heavily for the next day.
This was the largest New York riot since the Astor Place Riot in 1849 and would be unsurpassed until the Draft Riots of 1863- all three of these incidents largely involving working class Irish-American immigrants and stemming from issues of class, ethnicity, and policy. The two day Dead Rabbits Riot left at least eight men dead and some 30-100 injured. The real casualty count may be higher, as many of those killed are believed to have been carried off to secret burial by their gang-mates.
The Dead Rabbits Song was a ballad recounting the riot. The song was written by Henry Seamus Backus, known as the Saugerties Bard. Backus was a former Saugerties music teacher who had turned to heavy drinking after the deaths of his daughter, mother, and wife. He had spent time in an insane asylum, mad with liquor and religion, for part of the late 1840s before returning to Saugerties to write store jingles and popular songs. An eccentric figure, Backus reportedly traveled in a broken-down wagon decked in bells and American flags, often accompanied by a grand procession of barking dogs. He would travel from town to town, playing popular tunes, singing his new lyrics, and selling broadsides.
Chorus Then pull off the coat and roll up the sleeve, For Bayard is a hard street to travel; So pull off the coat and roll up the sleeve, The Bloody Sixth is a hard ward to travel I believe.
Like wild dogs they did fight, this Fourth of July night, Of course they laid their plans accordin'; Some were wounded and some killed, and lots of blood spill'd, In the fight on the other side of Jordan.
Chorus The new Police did join the Bowery boys in line, With orders strict and right accordin; Bullets, clubs and bricks did fly, and many groan and die, Hard road to travel over Jordan.
Chorus When the new police did interfere, this made the Rabbits sneer, And very much enraged them accordin'; With bricks they did go in, determined for to win, And drive them on the other side of Jordan.
Chorus Upon the following day they had another fray, The Black Birds and Dead Rabbits accordin; The soldiers were call'd out, to quell the mighty riot, And drove them on the other side of Jordan.
Another variation of Jordan is a Hard Road to Travel worth noting is "Richmond Is a Hard Road to Travel", a version composed by Union soldiers fighting in Virginia during the first two years of the Civil War. The song recounts the difficulties the army had in its attempts to capture the Confederate capitol at Richmond. The song can be found here, arranged here by the 2nd South Carolina String Band.
The song unusually long, telling in essence the whole course of early part of the war.
Would you like to hear my song? I'm afraid it's rather long
Of the famous "On to Richmond" double trouble,
Of the half-a-dozen trips and half-a-dozen slips
And the very latest bursting of the bubble.
'Tis pretty hard to sing and like a round, round ring
'Tis a dreadful knotty puzzle to unravel;
Though all the papers swore, when we touched Virginia's shore
That Richmond was a hard road to travel.
Then pull off your coat and roll up your sleeve,
Richmond is a hard road to travel
Then pull off your coat and roll up your sleeve
Richmond is a hard road to travel, I believe.
First, McDowell, bold and gay, set forth the shortest way,
By Manassas in the pleasant summer weather,
But unfortunately ran on a Stonewall, foolish man,
And had a "rocky journey" altogether;
And he found it rather hard to ride o'er Beauregard,
and socks. 
