WORKING PEOPLE'S SONGS.

As I move things to my storage building, there is pleasure in looking over some stuff I've saved before tossing.  I savored an old calendar from 1980 with working people's songs, the kind of stuff  Woodie Guthrie might sing, though way before his time. The first one in the calendar is familiar to just about every American:  I've Been Working On The Railroad .

Less familiar is Factory Girl.
The words are simple and direct to the point:
No more shall I work in the fac 'try, greasy up my clothes,
No more shall I work in the fac'try, with splinters in my toes
Chorus: Pity me my darling, Pity me I say
Pity me my darling, and carry me away.
No more shall I wear the old black dress, greasy all a round,
No more shall I wear the old black bonnet, with holes all in the crown.
Chorus:
No more shall I see the super come, all dressed up so proud,
For I know I'll marry a country boy before the year is out.

The only way out of gritty, poverty for a woman, was marriage. For a man it was worse.

Another song of the times is The Coal Baron's Song.
Oh, yes, let them strike as much as they like, to us 'tis a perfect boon,
Oh, merrily high the prices fly, on monopoly's big balloon.
Tho' they starve by bits in the inky pits, tho' their children cry for bread,
The end of the game must be the same, King Capital keeps ahead.
2nd verse:
Good pay? How absurd, upon my word, what more can the men require?
You speak of the poor, what they endure, deprived of their bit of fire,
What of control the price of coal, yet reduced at this time of year,
Our dividends, my worthy friends, would rapidly disappear.
3rd verse:
I'm willing to add, their work is bad, and dangerous too, to face.,
But when one stops and reels and drops, there's another to take his place,
And supply and demand, throughout the land, it is by that we will stand or fall,
We're dealing in coals, but bodies and souls, are not in our line at all.

I'd never heard of this song before. It is poorly if plaintively written and is an old folk ballad original to America.
While I was about this subject, I found a non-profit website for such ballads and folk music indigenous to our country at Smithsonian Folkways.  You might want to check it out. It has some interesting stuff. Especially the blues and lament of black freedmen and slaves who had an even greater cross to bear than poor whites.

http://www.folkways.si.edu/?utm_source=bing&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=BrandedSFW
 

MOVING SOUTH AND HOOKING UP WITH THE PARKERS

 Moving South about a hundred miles to hook up with Bob and Donna Parker, Jim's (Jaillet) cousins where we'll stay for the next week. The weather changed to rain but didn't cool much. It was 75* when we got up at 5:30. Even the gulls were absent from the parking lot. One lone fellow kept trying to dig something out of a pickup truck, maybe an ice chest tempted him. Previous mornings flocks of them were raucously sounding in what could be considered the equivalent of a rooster crowing the coming morn. 

We stopped in Berkeley, MA to have the Motor Home refrigerator serviced at USRV, where Jim's (Bacon) cousin, Mike De Paola, works. We stocked up on some bacteria additive for the black water holding tank and a new set of blades for the wipers, etc. The company also has a dump station and a place to take on water, all needed chores required for smooth wheeling on the road. We'll meet with Mike and his wife Saturday afternoon for cocktails.
We arrived at Donna and Bob's where personality and hospitality reign supreme. Donna baked a French Meat Pie for Jim, her first time effort.  I told Donna she was a spoiler and its absolutely true. She would make everyone's dream come true if it were in her power. The meat pie was excellent, so much better than anything you can purchase. KUDOS!
The plan is to attend the festivities at the Portuguese Festival in New Bedford,  something we've been looking forward to for a month. I especially enjoyed the Fado, when I was in Portugal, a sort of seaman's lament about being away from home, the loneliness, contemplating missing comrades, missing his sweetheart, wife,  children and all things dear. Its an emotional, pleading kind of performance and they perform the Fado here at the Festa. New Bedford became an adopted home for Portuguese sailors who emigrated here in the late 1700's and brought their traditions with them to stay.