The Ballad of "The Shantyman's Life'

Songs and music were often used for entertainnment after a hard day's work. This is a ballad circa 1880 similar to those sung in the logging camp that Robert Mullen and the loggers would sing.

The Shantyman's Life

The Shantyman's life is a worrisome one
Though some call it free from care,
It's the ringing of the ax from morning til night,
In the middle of the forest fair.
While life in the shanties bleak and cold,
While the wintery winds do blow.
As soon as the morning star does appear
Off to the woods we must go....

All you jolly fellows, come listen to my song;
It's all about the pinery boys and how they got along.
They're the jolliest lot of fellows, so merrily and fine,
They will spend the pleasant winter months in cutting down the pine.

Some would leave their friends and homes, and others they love dear,
And into the lonesome pine woods their pathway they do steer.
Into the lonesome pine woods all winter to remain,
A'waiting for the springtime to return again.

Springtime comes, oh, glad will be its day!
Some return to home and friends, while others go astray.
The sawyers and the choppers, they lay their timber low.
The swampers and the teamsters they haul it to and fro.

Next comes the loaders before the break of day.
Load up your sleighs, five thousand feet to the river, haste away.
Noon time rolls around, our foremen loudly screams,
"Lay down your tools, me boys, and we'll haste to pork and beans."
We arrive at the shanty, the splashing then begins,
The banging of the water pails, the rattling of the tins.
In the middle of the splashing, our cook for dinner does cry.
We all arise and go, for we hate to lose our pie.

Dinner being over, we into our shanty go.
We all fill up our pipes and smoke 'til everything looks blue.
"It's time for the wood, me boys," our foreman he does say.
We all gather up our hats and caps, to the woods we haste away.

We all go with a welcome heart and a well contented mind
For the winter winds blow cold among the waving pines.
The ringing of saws and axes until the sun goes down.
"Lay down your tools, me boys, for the shanties we are bound."

We arrive at the shanties with cold and wet feet,
Take off our overboots and packs, the supper we must eat.
Supper being ready, we all arise and go
For it ain't the style of lumberjack to lose his hash, you know.
At three o'clock in the morning, our bold cook loudly shouts,
"Roll out, roll out, you teamsters, it time that you are out."
The teamsters they get up in a fright and manful wail:
"Where is my boots? Oh, where's my pack? My rubbers have gone astray.
"They other men they then get up, their packs they cannot find
And they lay it to the teamsters, and they curse them 'til they're blind.

Springtime comes, Oh, glad will be the day!
Lay down your tools, me boys, and we'll haste to break away.
The floating ice is over, and business now destroyed.
And all the able-bodied men are wanted on the Pelican drive.

With jam-pikes and peaveys those able men do go
Up all those wild and dreary streams to risk their lives you know.
On cold and frosty mornings they shiver with the cold,
So much ice upon their jam-pikes, they scarcely them can hold.