Songs marked "PBLG" are on "Pennbucky to Llangenny", those marked "CHAR" are on "Characters"
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Made of Wood (PBLG)
© Andrew McKay
I am a seafaring carpenter and timbering is my trade,
I sails from Swansea round Cape Horn, on ships that are timber-made
At the trunking and the shuttering-up you'll find me very good,
And I'll fix up any thing you want as long as it's made of wood.
Made of wood, made of wood,
And I'll fix up any thing you want as long as it's made of wood.
Well, when it's time to leave the town, we loads her up with coal,
I builds the shutters and the chutes that tumble it into the hold,
I makes the hatches watertight, to be sure that we don't flood,
For a ship'll be safe as anything, as long as it's made of wood
Made of wood, made of wood,
For a ship'll be safe as anything, as long as it's made of wood.
And when we gets to Valipo, the lighters they come around,
I builds the wooden winches that will lower the cargo down,
They creaks away for days on end, with a rattle and a thud,
I appreciate these contrivances, as long as they're made of wood
Made of wood, made of wood,
I appreciate these contrivances, as long as they're made of wood.
But before we winch the copper aboard, I must fit the trunking in,
It holds the copper ore secure, it's like a second skin,
For if the cargo should shift about, that wouldn't do any good,
So I keeps it secure and Swansea-style, in my shuttering made of wood
Made of wood, made of wood,
So I keeps it secure and Swansea-style, in my shuttering made of wood.
And on the passage homeward I spends most of my time in the hold,
Making sure the trunking's secure, no matter how we've rolled,
For that is where I likes to be, it's where I can do most good,
Between the shuttering and the hull, and they're both of them made of wood
Made of wood, made of wood,
Between the shuttering and the hull, and they're both of them made of wood.
Well, once down by the Falkland Isles a mast was carried away
I rigged a replacement jury up in less than half a day
We sailed into Port Stanley then, as quick as ever we could,
There's plenty of ways to fix a mast, as long as it's made of wood
Made of wood, made of wood,
There's plenty of ways to fix a mast, as long as it's made of wood.
Well, I hear they're making ships of iron, to sail upon the sea,
I don't know what'd become of them, or what'd become of me,
But how do you nail up bits of iron, that've come adrift in the flood?
You'd only get me to go to sea on a ship that's been made of wood
Made of wood, made of wood,
You'd only get me to go to sea on a ship that's been made of wood.
I am a seafaring carpenter and timbering is my trade,
I sails from Swansea round Cape Horn, on ships that are timber-made
At the trunking and the shuttering-up you'll find me very good,
And I'll fix up any thing you want as long as it's made of wood.
Made of wood, made of wood,
And I'll fix up any thing you want as long as it's made of wood.
A ship loaded with all the coal she can carry will be full, whereas with the same weight of copper ore she's about half-empty. If the ore shifts and unbalances the ship, she sinks. Swansea ingenuity came up with the trunk, a wooden compartment built into the hull, holding the ore securely in the middle of the ship. It has to be dismantled for the outward passage with coal, and rebuilt for the voyage home. The ship's carpenter is an important person.
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Mary Baker (CHAR)
© Carole Etherton
(Chorus) Portsmouth town, Portsmouth town,
No girls are ever better than in Portsmouth town.
M' name's Mary Baker, a Madam is m' trade,
I take care of the sailors, see the money paid.
Pretty girls I hire them all the while,
With dainty little figures and sparkling smile.
(Chorus) Portsmouth town, Portsmouth town,
You'll always find your pleasure here in Portsmouth town.
Portsmouth town, Portsmouth town,
No girls are ever better than in Portsmouth town.
Come on girls the fleet's in town,
Put on your silky stockings and lacy gown.
Fancy shoes, fine combed hair,
Then we'll go parading in the carriage and pair.
(Chorus)
In my high red wig and with jewels in m' teeth,
I'm known to all the sailors here in Water Street.
Velvet choker, fur and fancy hat,
Mary Baker is the best, no doubt about that.
(Chorus)
Across the Piscataqua they come for girls to buy,
With money in their pockets, a twinkle in their eye.
At Gloucester House we treat 'em mighty fine,
Strip 'em of their money send 'em back to toe the line.
(Chorus)
So farewell sailors back to sea you go,
No money in your pocket , powder running low.
In Portsmouth town you'll be happy you did meet
Mary Baker and her girls from Water Street.
(Chorus) Portsmouth town, Portsmouth town,
You'll always find your pleasure here in Portsmouth town.
Portsmouth town, Portsmouth town,
No girls are ever better than in Portsmouth town.
The importance of aggressive advertising, product quality and customer satisfaction! This is Portsmouth, New Hampshire, across the Piscataqua River from the US Naval base.
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May No More (CHAR)
© Andrew McKay
My father was a fisherman who drowned beneath the tide
My mother's heart was broken, in another year she died,
So I made my way to Sailortown from my home upon the shore,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
(Chorus) Oh Maggie, Maggie May, that's what they used to say,
As I took my evening promenade along beside the bay,
But now I'm growing older on Australia's convict shore,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
I met up with a soldier boy who said he loved me true,
He'd guard me and he'd care for me, and I believed him too,
But he knocked the young girl out of me, and pushed me out the door,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
(Chorus)
An innkeeper then told me of a room where I could stay,
If I did some "little favours" there'd be no rent to pay,
His clientele abused me well, and despised me as a whore,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
(Chorus)
A topsailman awash with rum passed out upon my bed,
I found his watch and moneybox in a pouch beneath his head,
I took them both in payment for the life that I'd endured,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
(Chorus)
So they took me to a courtroom with a judge in robes of red,
Though he'd never worn that long wig when he'd rumbled me in bed,
He said I was a danger both to virtue and the law,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
(Chorus)
And he sent me here to New South Wales, to prove crime doesn't pay,
And that those who break society's rules must suffer every day,
While he sits at home in Sailortown with his whisky and his whores,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
(Chorus) Oh Maggie, Maggie May, that's what they used to say,
As I took my evening promenade along beside the bay,
But now I'm growing older on Australia's convict shore,
You can call me Maggie though I'm May no more.
A re-write of the "Maggie May" story from Maggie's point of view. There's always at least two sides to any story.
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Navigator Lady (PBLG)
© Andrew McKay
If you're tired of sailing as an old AB, see the Navigator Lady
She'll lay it out just like yer ABC, she's the Navigator Lady
So if it's navigation that you want to know,
If you want to tell your ship which way to go,
If you want to tell your Cuba from your Callao,
See the Navigator Lady
Oh her Daddy was the skipper of a coastal sloop, she's the Navigator Lady
She learned her trade upon the Old Man's poop, she's the Navigator Lady
She learned about the tides around the coastal beds,
Learned to test the bottom with the sounding lead,
She learned to tell her Mousehole from her Mumbles Head,
She's the Navigator Lady
With her Navigator's ticket from the Board of Trade, she's the Navigator Lady
She's come aboard as the anchor's weighed, she's the Navigator Lady
With her old brass sextant and a brand new clock,
To see her on the afterdeck is something of a shock,
But she'll get you back from Norwich to the old North Dock,
She's the Navigator Lady
Now she's on shore and the Old Man's dead, she's the Navigator Lady
She's setting up a school in the parlour instead, she's the Navigator Lady
She'll teach you lots of things that you might find queer,
Like how to drink tomato juice instead of beer,
But to learn to get from Montreal to Mumbles Pier,
See the Navigator Lady
Some say a lady shouldn't be like that, like the Navigator Lady
Just walk around town in a flowery hat; not the Navigator Lady
There's ladies that will help you to spend your pay,
Ladies that will tell you to go away,
But to get from Santiago back to Swansea Bay
See the Navigator Lady
There's ladies that will help you to spend your pay,
Ladies that will tell you to go away,
But to get from Santiago back to Swansea Bay
See the Navigator Lady
Sarah Jane Rees (photo, top) from South-West Wales was the first British woman to get a Board of Trade ticket in her own right as an officer in the merchant navy. Born in 1839, she achieved this in the 1860s, when women were expected to do no such thing. She was prominent in other areas too, some of which must have seemed incongruous to the sailors she trained in navigation, She was a nonconformist lay preacher and a leading figure in the South Wales temperance movement. She won a chair for bardic poetry at the National Eisteddfodd, and edited and produced a Welsh language periodical for women that ran successfully for over 13 years. She died in 1916.
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Pennbucky to Llangenny (PBLG)
© Andrew Mckay
I was brought up on my father's farm that his father farmed before,
That my brother, being older, would farm later:
So I went to earn my living far beyond the rocky shore
As a deckhand on a barque-rigged copper freighter.
(Chorus) And I've seen so many wonders on the sea and on the land,
That even I, who saw them, can't believe in;
Now my sailing days are done, and I've come back home again,
From Pennbucky to Llangenny in the evening.
I remember the first time I saw the ships that sail the seas,
With the morning mists about their sides a-curling;
Their masts stood by the riverbanks like groves of springtime trees
Awaiting for the leaves to start unfurling.
(Chorus)
I've seen fish that fly like birds, and birds that swim beneath the sea,
I've seen dolphins playing round our bow-wave breaking;
I've seen trees alive with parakeets, heard monkeys singing songs,
And seen sunsets that would leave your poor heart aching.
(Chorus)
Well, I made it up to Master of my own ship in due course,
But the days of wood and canvas were fast failing;
So I cashed my share and bought a cottage near my brother's farm
And I settled down to memories of sailing.
(Chorus)
But my brother's farm was bought out by the men from the estate,
Now my nephew drives a tractor there for wages;
So I'm grateful for my life at sea, although my brother says
That we've only lived our lives in different cages.
(Chorus) Still I've seen so many wonders on the sea and on the land,
That even I, who saw them, can't believe in;
Now my sailing days are done, and I've come back home again,
From Pennbucky to Llangenny in the evening.
The way of life on Gower, the peninsula west of Swansea, remained unchanged for centuries before the coming of the motorcar. Small family farms were passed down to the eldest son - younger sons often left to sail in the copper ore fleets. Some eventually retired back to Gower, and tried to settle into communities where most people never travelled more than fifteen miles in their lives. One used to say that he "knew Pennbucky better than he knew Llangenny" - Pennbucky was the Brazilian port of Pernambuco, while Llangenny is the Gower village of Llangennith.
Poling Copper (PBLG)
© Andrew McKay
Now you work at the furnace, where the air's never clean,
Where the sulphur and the arsenic turn you seven shades of green,
You drink water by the bucket, but you're still parched and lean,
And you burn up your days poling copper,
You burn up your days poling copper.
You came to the furnace 'cause the wages are good,
You've ale for your pleasure and your family has food,
Though you spent your first months here just coughing up blood,
Now you're fit for a life poling copper,
You're fit for a life poling copper.
And your children have worked here since they were quite small,
The copper man's yard is their own special world,
Where to shift 20 tons is a job for a girl,
While a man spends his days poling copper,
A man spends his days poling copper.
Now, the farm worker's children are ruddy and bright,
They get up with the dawn, go to bed at half-light,
But the copper man's children tend the furnace all night,
And dream of a life poling copper,
They dream of a life poling copper.
Well, the devil once came here, or so people tell,
Past the red roaring furnace and the green sulphur smell,
He said "I'm feeling homesick, this looks just like Hell,
I can see the damned souls poling copper,
I can see the damned souls poling copper."
Well, you work at the furnace, where the air's never clean,
Where the sulphur and the arsenic turn you seven shades of green,
You drink water by the bucket, but you're still parched and lean,
And you burn up your days poling copper,
You burn up your days poling copper.
The copper works were the best-paid employment in 19th century Swansea. but conditions were bad. The process gave off arsenic and sulphurous acid fumes which damaged workers' lungs - if they survived the first 6 months, they were usually OK. Whole families worked at the furnaces. A report on child labour described young women moving 20 tons of ore and slag during a 9-hour shift, using shovels and wheelbarrows. Men worked double shifts (24 hours on, 24 hours off). Poling copper, the final purification stage, involved standing, unprotected, above open vats of molten metal, stirring with a length of green wood to release impurities. They earned every penny of their extra pay.
Queen of Swansea (PBLG)
© Andrew Mckay
The Queen of Swansea she set sail on a brisk December day
On a short trip to the copper mines not many days away.
And she sailed into the rising mist as I waited on the shore,
But oh, the Queen of Swansea, I never saw her more.
(Chorus) Farewell the Queen of Swansea, grey rocks beneath grey sky,
Gull Island where the gannet goes is a terrible place to die.
My name is Margaret Dowsley, in Newfoundland I dwell,
I have two pretty children and oh I love them well
I married a physician, my Felix kind and good,
Who sailed on the Queen of Swansea to bring comfort where he could.
(Chorus)
Oh do you know how hard it is, at the turning of the year,
To smile and sing for the children's sake, though your heart is full of fear?
The neighbours said, "Wait for the spring, when we're free of ice and frost",
But oh, the Queen of Swansea, she already had been lost.
(Chorus)
When springtime came, a ship arrived, but not the missing Queen,
Just bones wrapped in a blanket, to show where she had been.
And letters from my Felix, that tore my heart with pain,
To read his lamentations, that he'd not see us again.
(Chorus)
For Gull Island is a barren rock, beneath a barren sky,
And those who went down with the ship found the kinder way to die;
No food, no fire, and no relief, upon that stony shore,
Twelve bitter days to Christmas, then silence for evermore.
(Chorus)
So farewell to you, dear Felix, your face no more I'll see,
Your kindness and your comforts have been torn away from me.
Come all of ye, who sail the sea, I'd have you shed a tear,
For those on the Queen of Swansea, and for we who linger here.
(Chorus) Farewell the Queen of Swansea, grey rocks beneath grey sky,
Gull Island where the gannet goes is a terrible place to die.
The Queen and other small sailing ships carried copper ore from the mine at Tilt Cove, Newfoundland, back to Swansea for smelting. In 1867 she sailed from St John for Tilt Cove with general cargo and passengers, including Dr Felix Dowsley, who was due to take up the post of medical officer at the mine. She was never seen again. Human remains were eventually discovered on Gull Island, a rocky outcrop near Tilt Cove, which were identified by letters as being from the Queen. Dr Dowsley's letters to his wife Margaret survive, and make painful reading. A memorial was erected at the mine and the bodies returned to Swansea for burial.