Barrett's Privateers


Background

Oh the year was seventeen seventy eight
I wish I were in Sherbrooke now!
A letter of marque came from the King
To the scummiest vessel I've 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,
I wish I were in Sherbrooke now!
For twenty brave men, all fishermen, who
Would make for him the Antelope's crew,
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.


The Antelope sloop was a sickening sight.
She'd a list to port and her sails in rags,
And a cook in the scuppers with staggers and jags.

On the King's birthday we put to sea.
We were ninety-one days to Montego bay,
Pumping like madmen all the way.

On the ninety-sixth day we sailed again.
When a bloody great Yankee hove in sight
With our cracked four-pounders we made to fight

The Yankee lay low down with gold.
She was broad and fat and loose in stays,
But to catch her took the Antelope two whole days

Then at length we stood two cables away.
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.
Barrett was smashed like a bowl of eggs,
And the maintruck carried off both me legs.

So here I lay in my twenty-third year.
It's been six years since we sailed away,
And I just made Halifax yesterday.

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Replies to This Discussion

The Last Shanty

by Tom Lewis
M' father often told me, when I was just a lad,
A sailor's life was very hard, the food was always bad,
But now I've joined the navy, I'm on board a man-o-war,
And now I find a sailor ain't a sailor any more!
Don't haul on the rope, don't climb up the mast,
If you see a sailing-ship it might be your last,
Get your civvies ready for another run ashore,
A sailor ain't a sailor ain't a sailor any more!
The 'killick' of our mess, he says we've had it soft,
It wasn't like this in his day, when he was up aloft,
We like our bunks and sleeping bags but what's a hammock for?
Swinging from the deckhead or lying on the floor?

They gave us an engine that first went up and down,
Then with more technology the engine went around,
We're good with steam and diesel but what's a mainyard for?
A stoker ain't a stoker with a shovel any more!

They gave us an Aldis Lamp, we can do it right,
They gave us a radio, we signal day and night,
We know our codes and ciphers but what's a 'sema' for?
A 'bunting-tosser' doesn't toss the bunting any more!

They gave us a radar set to pierce the fog and gloom,
So now the lookout's sitting in a tiny darkened room,
Loran does navigation the Sonar says how deep,
The Jimmy's 3 sheets to the wind, the Skipper's fast asleep.

Two cans of beer a day, that's your bleeding lot!
But now we gets an extra one because they stopped The Tot,
So, we'll put on our civvy-clothes and find a pub ashore,
A sailor's still a sailor, just like he was before!
Northwest Passage

by Stan Rogers
The last verse, written later, is from a web interview
Chorus:
Ah for just one time I would take the Northwest Passage
To find the hand of Franklin reaching for the Beaufort Sea;
Tracing one warm line through a land so wide and savage
And make a Northwest Passage to the sea.

Westward from the Davis Straight 'tis there 'twas said to lie
The sea route to the Orient for which so many died;
Seeking gold and glory, leaving weathered, broken bones
And a long forgotten lonely cairn of stones.

Chorus

Three centuries thereafter, I take passage over land
In the footsteps of brave Kelso, where his "sea of flowers" began
Watching cities rise before me, then behind me sink again
This tardiest explorer, driving hard across the plain.

Chorus

And through the night, behind the wheel, the mileage clicking West
I think upon MacKenzie, David Thomson and the rest
Who cracked the mountain ramparts and did show a path for me
To race the roaring Frasier to the sea.

Chorus

How then am I so different from the first men through this way?
Like them I left a settled life, I threw it all away.
To seek a Northwest Passage at the call of many men
To find there but the road back home again

Chorus

And if should be I come again to loved ones left at home,
Put the journals on the mantle, shake the frost out of my bones,
Making memories of the passage, only memories after all,
And hardships there the hardest to recall.

Chorus
The Derelict

Also well known as the "Yo-Ho-Ho and a Bottle of Rum" Song,
made famous by the "Pirates of the Caribbean" Ride and Movies
Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike
The bosun brained with a marlinspike
And cookey's throat was marked belike
It had been gripped by fingers ten;
And there they lay, all good dead men
Like break o'day in a boozing ken
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of the whole ship's list
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
The skipper lay with his nob in gore
Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore
And the scullion he was stabbed times four
And there they lay, and the soggy skies
Dripped down in up-staring eyes
In murk sunset and foul sunrise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ten of the crew had the murder mark!
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
'Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead
Or a yawing hole in a battered head
And the scuppers' glut with a rotting red
And there they lay, aye, damn my eyes
Looking up at paradise
All souls bound just contrawise
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men of 'em good and true
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Ev'ry man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
There was chest on chest of Spanish gold
With a ton of plate in the middle hold
And the cabins riot of stuff untold,
And they lay there that took the plum
With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb
While we shared all by the rule of thumb,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!

More was seen through a sternlight screen...
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Chartings undoubt where a woman had been
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
'Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot
With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot
And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot
Oh was she wench or some shudderin' maid
That dared the knife and took the blade
By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.

Fifteen men on a dead man's chest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum
Drink and the devil had done for the rest
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.
We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight
With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight
And we heaved 'em over and out of sight,
With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well
And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell
Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell,
Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
Sloop John B

Most people know that "Sloop John B" was released by The Beach Boys in 1966 on Capitol Records, but few know that it was originally a traditional West Indies folk song, possibly recorded earliest by The Weavers under the title "Wreck of the John B", the song taken from a collection by Carl Sandburg (1927).
Alan Lomax is said to have made a field recording of the song in Nassau, Bahamas in 1935, under the title "Hoist Up the John B. Sail". The song was adapted by Weavers member Lee Hays and later a version was recorded by Roger Whitaker. The recording of the song which directly influenced The Beach Boys was by The Kingston Trio.
The actual ship was a sponger, whose crew was known for being "very merry" while in port. It was wrecked and sunk at Governors' Harbor in Eleuthera, Bahamas, about 1900.
Although this song has been performed by a variety of pop artists, look at the lyrics and the song structure and you'll quickly see that this song easily qualifies as a sea shanty.
We come on the Sloop John B., my grandfather and me.
Around Nassau town we did roam.
Drinking all night, got into a fight,
Well I feel so break up, I want to go home.

So hoist up the John B's sails, see how the main sail sets,
Call for the captain ashore, and let me go home.
Let me go home, I want to go home,
Well I feel so break up, I want to go home.

The first mate, he got drunk, broke up the people's trunk,
The constable had to come and take him away.
Sheriff John Stone, why don't you leave me alone?
Well I feel so break up, I want to go home.

So hoist up the John B's sails, see how the main sail sets,
Call for the captain ashore, and let me go home.
Let me go home, I want to go home,
Well I feel so break up, I want to go home.

The poor cook he caught the fits, threw away all my grits,
Then he took and ate up all of my corn.
Let me go home, I want to go home,
This is the worst trip I've ever been on.

So hoist up the John B's sails, see how the main sail sets,
Call for the captain ashore, and let me go home.
Let me go home, I want to go home,
Well I feel so broke up, I want to go home.

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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries had its humble beginnings as an idea of a few artisans and craftsmen who enjoy performing with live steel fighting. As well as a patchwork quilt tent canvas. Most had prior military experience hence the name.

 

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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries a Dept of, Ask For IT was started by artists and former military veterans, and sword fighters, representing over 100 artisans, one who made his living traveling from fair to festival vending medieval wares. The majority of his customers are re-enactors, SCAdians and the like, looking to build their kit with period clothing, feast gear, adornments, etc.

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