Texts and Program Notes: imPulse Happy Hour
imPulse Happy Hour: Tales from the Deep – Lake Monster Brewing
February 3 & 4, 2017: 7:30pm
Barrett's Privateers
Historically, the distinction between a "privateer" and "pirate" has been vague. A privateer is a private person or ship authorized by a government by letters of marque to attack foreign shipping during wartime. Privateering was a way of mobilizing armed ships and sailors without having to spend money or commit naval officers. Barrett's Privateers is sung from the point of view of a young fisherman who enlisted on Elcid Barrett's ill-fated Antelope. After describing the initial voyage to Jamaica seeking American merchantmen and the problems with the Antelope, the unnamed narrators sings about how they finally found one, loaded down with gold. Unfortunately, the Antelope's main-mast is knocked down with one volley from the American vessel and Barrett is killed. The remainder of the song conveys the narrator's disillusionment with privateering. The last two stanzas reveal he is only 23 years old and has lost both of his legs in the battle six years earlier. It has taken all six years to beg his way home.
-Ron Smail
Oh, the year was 1778, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! A letter of marque came from the king, To the scummiest vessel I'd ever seen, God damn them all! I was told we'd cruise the seas for American gold We'd fire no guns-shed no tears Now I'm a broken man on a Halifax pier The last of Barrett's Privateers. Oh, Elcid Barrett cried the town, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! For twenty brave men all fishermen who would make for him the Antelope's crew The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! She'd a list to the port and her sails in rags And the cook in scuppers with the staggers and the jags On the King's birthday we put to sea, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! We were 91 days to Montego Bay Pumping like madmen all the way |
On the 96th day we sailed again, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! When a bloody great Yankee hove in sight With our cracked four pounders we made to fight The Yankee lay low down with gold, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! She was broad and fat and loose in the stays But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days Then at length we stood two cables away, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! Our cracked four pounders made an awful din But with one fat ball the Yank stove us in The Antelope shook and pitched on her side, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs And the Maintruck carried off both me legs So here I lay in my 23rd year, HOW I WISH I WAS IN SHERBROOKE NOW! It's been 6 years since we sailed away And I just made Halifax yesterday |
Rauði riddarinn
Svo einmana verður enginn, að ekki sé von á gesti, riddara í rauðum klæðum, sem ríður bleikum hesti. Riddari í rauðum klæðum, með rjúkandi sigð í höndum, hleypir, svo hófanna dynur heyrist í öllum löndum. Af jóreyk mannheimar myrkvast, og moldin sópast að skjánum. Riddarinn brýst inn í bæinn, og blóðið drýpur af ljánum. |
No one is ever so lonely, That they can't expect a guest, A rider (knight) in red clothing who rides a pale horse A rider in red clothing, with a smoking sickle in hand, rides, so the din of hoofs is heard in every land. A dust cloud darkens the human world, and dirt builds up at the window. The rider bursts into the farmhouse, and blood drips from the scythe. |
Double, Double Toil and Trouble
The text for this selection comes from Shakespeare's Macbeth, which is recited from the witches trio. It should be noted that the audience may find elements of this text to be disturbing. In an effort to maintain the historical integrity of the text, it will be sung as written. MPLS (imPulse) welcomes your feedback: info@mplsimpulse.org
The text for this selection comes from Shakespeare's Macbeth, which is recited from the witches trio. It should be noted that the audience may find elements of this text to be disturbing. In an effort to maintain the historical integrity of the text, it will be sung as written. MPLS (imPulse) welcomes your feedback: info@mplsimpulse.org
Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined. Harpier cries ‘Tis time, ‘tis time. Round about the cauldron go; In the poison’d entrails throw. Toad, that under cold stone Days and nights had thirty-one Swelter’d venom sleeping got, Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble. Fillet of a fenny snake, In the cauldron boil and bake; Eye of newt and toe of frog, Wool of bat and tongue of dog, Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting, Lizard’s leg and owlet’s wing, For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. |
Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf, Witches’ mummy, maw and gulf Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark, Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark, Liver of blaspheming Jew, Gall of goat, and slips of yew Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse, Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips, Finger of birth-strangled babe Ditch-deliver’d by a drab, Make the gruel thick and slab: Add thereto a tiger’s chaudron [entrails], For ingredients for our cauldron. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble. By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes. Open, locks, Whoever knocks! |
Out of the River of Tuoni
Text excerpted from “Lemminkäinen’s Restoration"
The Kalevala, Runo XV
Compiled by Elias Lönnrot
In Runo XIV of the Kalevala, Lemminkäinen hunts the black swan that lives on the river of Tuoni in the underworld in order to win a daughter of Louhi as his wife. While searching for the swan, he is killed and his body is dumped into the river. In Runo XV, Lemminkäinen’s mother searches all over the world for him before discovering his fate. She fashions a rake and uses it to recover her son’s body from the bottom of the river, then sews his body back together and uses a drop of honey from the god Ukko as an ointment. Speaking the words below, she uses her magic to restore her son to life
Text excerpted from “Lemminkäinen’s Restoration"
The Kalevala, Runo XV
Compiled by Elias Lönnrot
In Runo XIV of the Kalevala, Lemminkäinen hunts the black swan that lives on the river of Tuoni in the underworld in order to win a daughter of Louhi as his wife. While searching for the swan, he is killed and his body is dumped into the river. In Runo XV, Lemminkäinen’s mother searches all over the world for him before discovering his fate. She fashions a rake and uses it to recover her son’s body from the bottom of the river, then sews his body back together and uses a drop of honey from the god Ukko as an ointment. Speaking the words below, she uses her magic to restore her son to life
Nouse pois makoamasta, ylene uneksimasta näiltä paikoilta pahoilta, kovan onnen vuotehelta! |
Rise up from your slumber, awaken from your dreams, leave this hard place and this cruel shelter! |
Serenadi oluelle
Tieän mä oluen synnyn, Humalast' oluen synty. Humala, Remusen poika, Piennä maahan pistettihin, Kyinä maahan kynnettihin, Viholaisna viskottihin, Osman pellon penkerehen, Vierehen Kalevan kaivon. Siitä taisi taimi nosta, Yletä vihanta virpi, Osman pellon penkerellä, Vierellä Kalevan kaivon; Nousi puuhun pienoisehen, Kohti latvoa kohosi. Niin huhui humala puusta, Ohra pellon penkereltä, Vesi kaivosta Kalevan: "Olut on oikia nimensä, Hyvä juoma hurskahille, Paha paljo juonehille; Pani se hullut huiskamahan, Mielipuolet meiskamahan. Tianen pani olutta. Hyvin se tianen tiesi, Osasi oluen panna, Tianenpa pieni lintu, Varpunen vähävarainen, Kutsui paljo vierahia Tianenpa pieni lintu, Varpunen vähävarainen, Ei voinut kotona olla, Piti metsähän paeta. |
I know of beer’s Origin; from hop beer was born, Hop, son of hubbub was stuck in the ground when small was ploughed in as vipers are was tossed in as a nettle on the bank of Osma’s field down by Kaleva’s well-side: from it a seedling could rise a green shoot come up on the bank of Osma’s field down by Kaleva’s well-side; it rose on a tiny tree and towards the top it climbed. So hop called out from the tree and barley from the field-bank water from Kaleva’s well: ‘Beer is its right name-- a good drink for the well-bred bad for those who’ve drunk a lot; it put the mad in a whirl the half-wits in a frenzy. a tomtit brewed beer. That tomtit knew all about and was good at brewing beer The tomtit, a little bird and a sparrow of small means invited a lot of guests The tomtit, the little bird and the sparrow of small means could not stay at home but must flee to the forest. |
Maid on the Shore
T'was of the young maiden who lived all alone
She lived all alone on the shore-o
There was nothing she could find to comfort her mind
But to roam all alone on the shore shore shore
But to roam all alone on the shore
T'was of the young captain who sailed the salt sea
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
I will die I will die the young captain did cry
If I don't have that maid on the shore shore shore
If I don't have that maid on the shore
I have lots of silver I have lots of gold
I have lots of costly fare-o
I'll divide I'll divide with my jolly ship's crew
If they row me that maid on the shore shore shore
If they row me that maid on the shore
By subtle persuasion they got her aboard
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
And he placed her away in his cabin below
Here's adieu to all sorrow and care care care
Here's adieu to all sorrow and care
She sat herself down in his cabin below
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
Where she sang so soft and complete
She sang captain and sailors asleep sleep sleep
She sang captain and sailors to sleep
She robbed him of silver she robbed him of gold
She robbed him of costly fare-o
Then took his broadsword instead of an oar
And paddled her way to the shore shore shore
And paddled her way to the shore
Well me men must be crazy my men must be mad
My men must deep in despair-o
For to let you away with your beauty so gay
And to paddle your way to the shore shore shore
And to paddle your way to the shore
I deluded your sailors as well as yourself
I'm a maiden again on the shore shore shore
The River Driver
I was just the age of sixteen when I first went on the drive,
After six months hard labor, at home I did arrive.
I courted with a pretty girl, t'was her caused me to roam,
Now I'm just a river driver and I'm far away from home.
I'll eat when I am hungry and I'll drink when I am dry,
Get drunk whenever I'm ready, get sober by and by,
And if this river don't drown me, it's down I'll mean to roam,
For I'm a river driver and I'm far away from home.
I'll build a lonesome castle upon some mountain high,
Where she can sit and view me as I go passing by
Where she can sit and view me as I go marching on,
For I'm a river driver and I'm far away from home.
When I am old and feeble and in my sickness lie,
Just wrap me up in a blanket and lay me down to die
Just get a little bluebird to sing for me alone,
For I'm a river driver and I'm far away from home.
The Greenland Whale Fishery
They took us jolly sailor lads
A-fishing for a whale.
On the fourth day of August in 1864
Bound for Greenland we set sail.
The lookout stood on the cross-trees high
With a spyglass in his hand.
“There's a whale, there's a whale, there's a whale-fish,” he cried,
“And she blows at every span.”
The captain stood on the quarterdeck,
And a sod of a man was he.
“Overhaul, overhaul, let your davit tackles fall.”
And we'll launch them boats to sea.
We struck that whale and the line played out
But she gave a flurry with her tail.
And the boat capsized, we lost seven of our men,
And we never caught that whale.
Now the losing of seven fine seamen,
It grieved the captain sore.
But the losing of a bloody sperm whale
Oh, it grieved him ten times more.
Now Greenland is a horrid place
where us whaling lads have to go.
Where the rose and lillies never bloom in spring
Oh there's only ice and snow.
The winter star doth now appear,
so boys we'll anchor aweigh.
It's time to leave this cold country.
Now let's homeward sail away.
Fishing - Stephen Chatman. Text by Tara Wohlberg
Fishing, running out the bay,
Sailing got her underway,
On the bank and steering straight,
Whipping breeze and tub of bait.
Traps and trawls and finger stalls,
Rubber boots and killick claws,
Line twines, ropes and coils,
Get sore hands and full of boils.
What a brave young banker's crew,
Foolish things cod jiggers do,
Catching codfish, pick out dogfish
Catching big fish, pick out small fish
Haul up smelt and salmon, too,
Catching more than just a few,
Steady wind and thick'ning fog,
Bound for home to get more grog!
T'was of the young maiden who lived all alone
She lived all alone on the shore-o
There was nothing she could find to comfort her mind
But to roam all alone on the shore shore shore
But to roam all alone on the shore
T'was of the young captain who sailed the salt sea
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
I will die I will die the young captain did cry
If I don't have that maid on the shore shore shore
If I don't have that maid on the shore
I have lots of silver I have lots of gold
I have lots of costly fare-o
I'll divide I'll divide with my jolly ship's crew
If they row me that maid on the shore shore shore
If they row me that maid on the shore
By subtle persuasion they got her aboard
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
And he placed her away in his cabin below
Here's adieu to all sorrow and care care care
Here's adieu to all sorrow and care
She sat herself down in his cabin below
Let the wind blow high blow low-o
Where she sang so soft and complete
She sang captain and sailors asleep sleep sleep
She sang captain and sailors to sleep
She robbed him of silver she robbed him of gold
She robbed him of costly fare-o
Then took his broadsword instead of an oar
And paddled her way to the shore shore shore
And paddled her way to the shore
Well me men must be crazy my men must be mad
My men must deep in despair-o
For to let you away with your beauty so gay
And to paddle your way to the shore shore shore
And to paddle your way to the shore
I deluded your sailors as well as yourself
I'm a maiden again on the shore shore shore
The River Driver
I was just the age of sixteen when I first went on the drive,
After six months hard labor, at home I did arrive.
I courted with a pretty girl, t'was her caused me to roam,
Now I'm just a river driver and I'm far away from home.
I'll eat when I am hungry and I'll drink when I am dry,
Get drunk whenever I'm ready, get sober by and by,
And if this river don't drown me, it's down I'll mean to roam,
For I'm a river driver and I'm far away from home.
I'll build a lonesome castle upon some mountain high,
Where she can sit and view me as I go passing by
Where she can sit and view me as I go marching on,
For I'm a river driver and I'm far away from home.
When I am old and feeble and in my sickness lie,
Just wrap me up in a blanket and lay me down to die
Just get a little bluebird to sing for me alone,
For I'm a river driver and I'm far away from home.
The Greenland Whale Fishery
They took us jolly sailor lads
A-fishing for a whale.
On the fourth day of August in 1864
Bound for Greenland we set sail.
The lookout stood on the cross-trees high
With a spyglass in his hand.
“There's a whale, there's a whale, there's a whale-fish,” he cried,
“And she blows at every span.”
The captain stood on the quarterdeck,
And a sod of a man was he.
“Overhaul, overhaul, let your davit tackles fall.”
And we'll launch them boats to sea.
We struck that whale and the line played out
But she gave a flurry with her tail.
And the boat capsized, we lost seven of our men,
And we never caught that whale.
Now the losing of seven fine seamen,
It grieved the captain sore.
But the losing of a bloody sperm whale
Oh, it grieved him ten times more.
Now Greenland is a horrid place
where us whaling lads have to go.
Where the rose and lillies never bloom in spring
Oh there's only ice and snow.
The winter star doth now appear,
so boys we'll anchor aweigh.
It's time to leave this cold country.
Now let's homeward sail away.
Fishing - Stephen Chatman. Text by Tara Wohlberg
Fishing, running out the bay,
Sailing got her underway,
On the bank and steering straight,
Whipping breeze and tub of bait.
Traps and trawls and finger stalls,
Rubber boots and killick claws,
Line twines, ropes and coils,
Get sore hands and full of boils.
What a brave young banker's crew,
Foolish things cod jiggers do,
Catching codfish, pick out dogfish
Catching big fish, pick out small fish
Haul up smelt and salmon, too,
Catching more than just a few,
Steady wind and thick'ning fog,
Bound for home to get more grog!
