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American Ballads and Folk Songs |
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Because I refused to drink.
Fearful storms and heavy fogs, forget 'em I never shall,
For I'm every inch a sailor boy upon the Erie CanaL
When we arrived at Buffalo, With Sally, Jack, and Hank, We greased ourselves in tallow fat And slid off on a plank} Sally's in the poorhouse, The rest of the crew's in jail,
And I'm the only ("son-------") bugger afloat
That's left to tell the tale.
From R. G. Summers, Buffalo, New York, May 11, 1933: "As requested by the News of the 1 Oth I'm enclosing what I know of one old Erie Canal song. If Mr. Lomax can use it, O.K. If not, O.K. The Canal is my old love so as to speak. Only I never saw any animal-drawn boats on it. I am by profession an engineer both Marine and Stationary and at present at Jacob Dold Packing Company. But when I see anything about the Canal I read all of it. I was up and down it for five summers without a stop. I don't know the name of the enclosed and don't know if there is more of it or not. But you sure are welcome to what I enclose."
You yacht on the Hudson, You ride on the lake, But a trip on the Erie, You bet takes the cake 5 Where the beefsteak is tough As a fighting dog's neck, And the cook she plays tag With the flies out on deck. |
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Our cook she's a daisy, And dead stuck on mej Has fiery red hair And she's sweet sixty-three;
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