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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
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
​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!

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  • Home
  • About
    • What is MPLS (imPulse)?
    • Meet Our Team
    • Past Repertoire
    • Join Our Board of Directors
    • Contact Us
  • Tickets + Events
    • imPulse Happy Hour: The Glory of Beer >
      • Tickets
    • Ben Frost: Cold Air Rises
    • Celebrating New Music
  • Support
  • Songbook Project
    • Commissioned Composers
  • Call For Scores