Source Singers Albert Bromley, 1964, Suffolk, England
From McGlennon's 1902 Song Annual
At ten last night I was blowing out the light,
And thinking of reposing;
Just married - me, so I, you see,
Believe in early closing.
"Rat! tat; tat!" someone gave our knocker "jip"-
The wife says, "Perhaps my sister!"
When I crawls down and says, "Here, what's up?"
Some cove says "Muffins, mister?"
Just as I was getting into bed!Just as I was getting into bed!Someone comes to worry and alarm us;
Down pops me in my pyjamas!Nice thing, wasn't it, for a young man newly wed?Fancy coming round, to know if I'd like any muffins,
Just as I was getting into bed!
I slammed that door and all up the stairs I swore,
He'd giv'n mo such a "shocker,"
When bang! hang! bang! some other fiend,
Played "Old Nick" with our knocker.
Down I went, and now what do you suppose?
To worry and excite me,
A former flame of my dear "old Dutch,"
Had just come round to fight me!
Just as I was getting into bed!Just as I was getting into bed!Someone comes to worry and alarm us;
Down pops me in my pyjamas!Nice thing, wasn't it, for a young man newly wed?Fancy coming round to say he'd fight me for a dollar,
Just as I was getting into bed!
Once more in bed I laid down my sleepy head,
But, just as I was snoring —
Oh! what a shame I a neighbour came
And nearly knocked tho door in!
"Hi! hi! hi I there's a fire down the road —
If you don't come you oughter!
You might just go and slip on your clothes,
And help us squirt the water!"
Just as I was getting into bed!Just as I was getting into bed!Someone comes to worry and alarm us;
Down pops me in my pyjamas!Nice thing, wasn't it, for a young man newly wed?Fancy wanting me to go out squirting at a fire, Just as I was getting into bed!
I'd just said, "No, no, I ain't a-going to go,
And so, good-night, old feller:"
When — hark! the bell! and such a yell,
From my friend, Jimmy Mellor!
"My old gal, oh! she's very, very bad
In fact, I might say wusser;
You might pop up and ask your old gal,
If she'll pop round and nuss her?"
Just as I was getting into bed! Just
Just as I was getting into bed!Someone comes to worry and alarm us;
Down pops me in my pyjamas!Nice thing, wasn't it, for a young man newly wed?Fancy him a-coming round to borrow my old woman,
Just as I was getting into bed!
A turn of the century song written by John P Harrrington with music by George LeBrunn – both prolific songwriters. It was performed by the popular comedian Frank Coyne.
In the 1960s it was collected by Neil Lanham from the singing of Albert Bromley, one of a generation of great pub singers active in and around Suffolk in the 1950s and 60s. You can hear it on the Helions Bumpstead CD, (NLCD8 ‘Comic Songs of the Stour Valley‘).
Collected from the singing of: Elliott, Jack; England: County Durham; 1960-65
Little Sally Simple just to pass her time away,
Sat and darn'd her daddy's stocking nice and neat,
When she got up from the sofa in a hurry, sad to say,
Left the stocking needle sticking in the seat!
That night when Sally's masher call'd his darling for to see
He sat down on the sofa and she jumped upon his knee,
But she wasn't there a minute when the chap began to dance
When he jump'd up with the stocking needle sticking in his pants!
And they don't speak to one another now,They had no quarrel or row,
But she knows she'll ne'er win him
When he's got the needle in him ,
So they don't speak to one another now!
Johnny's Missus made him take the baby for a walk,
And as usual Johnny soon got very dry,
So he popped into a little pub to have a little talk,
With the barmaid and a drink upon the sly,
He stayed about an hour then he bade her "au revoir"
He raised his hat politely, something fell out on the floor!
The lady ran and picked it up exclaiming with a grin
"Love- a-mussy It's the baby's .. anybody got a pin?"
And they don't speak to one another now,They had no quarrel or row,
But he didn't like her grinnin'
At the babies under linen
So they don't speak to one another now!
Gussy on holiday took lodgings by the sea,
Where he fell in love with pretty Polly Peach,
Every night he used to call around to take out and she
Every morning used to meet him on the beach.
One morning Gussy went to bathe and what do you suppose?
When he came out he found someone had bolted with his clothes!
His sweetheart came to meet him and was just in time to see
Little Gussy with the basket where his Ulster ought to be!
And they don't speak to one another now,
They had no quarrel or row,
But he left her without warningNever stopped to say "Good morning"
So they don't speak to one another now!
Ophelia and Bertie met each other at the ball
Where the ladies looked so charming and so gay,
Bertie thought the fair Ophelia the sweetest of them all,
And secured an introduction right away.
He captured every dance with her and waltzed her to and fro
Till at last she got exhausted and was forced to "cry a go"
Now the might have got her brandy when she fell into a faint
But he bathed her face in water and washed off all her paint!
And they don't speak to one another now,They had no quarrel or row,
But she had a slight objection
To him shifting her complexion
So they don't speak to one another now!
A song written by the prolific TW Connor in the early 1890s. It was a hit for Fannie Leslie – see her brief biography below. 70 years later a snatch of the song was collected from the singing of Jack Elliott by traditional song collector Reg Hall. You can hear it in the British Library Sound archive
Sept. 30, 1893; The Era Report of a performance at The Tivoli from The Era Dec. 16, 1893
In 1911 a song of the same title was published in America, attributed to Herbert Ingraham and Edgar Selden. The structure of the American song is very similar, the American song starts:
How people love each other is apparent every day
I met two women on the street and overheard them say
"Why Mabel, your complexion looks almost as natural as mine
If I didn't know the difference, I'd think it genuine"..
They don't speak to one another now,
They don't even condescend to bow
With a stiff and stony stare
And with nose in the air
They don't speak to one another now
Like the earlier British song a series of unrelated verses each set up a new variant of the chorus to humorous effect . It might be considered to be a modernised version of the same song, but they do seem to have written new music…
Fannie Leslie (1858-1935) started her career as Frances Leslie – she was the granddaughter of composer, playboy, practical joker and occasional journalist Theodore Hook(1788-1841). Her greatest early success came when she was “discovered” by Augustus Harris dancing in ballets at the Metropolitan Music Hall in Edgware Road and plucked from obscurity to play a part in the prestigious Drury Lane pantomime. She went on to play the principal boy in numerous pantomimes in the late Victorian era. In addition to being a comic actress she was a singer, a dancer and something of a gymnast, often introducing cartwheels into her act. In 1893 she talked to The Era about the difficulty of finding new songs:
Songs are the burden of one’s life on the variety stage. Is the supply limited? Oh, my gracious, no. I get songs by the dozen. But so many of them are utter rubbish; and then when you get a good song, as you think, the public does not view it in the same light. A successful comic song is, of course, the heart’s desire of every singer ; and a successful is the most accidental thing in the whole world. You may buy them by the hundred, and practice them from morning to night without finding one that will take the town. Of course, when you get such a song it pays you….[But] sometimes a successful song is very short lived
A chat with Fannie Leslie, August 19, 1893, The Era.
Sources:
Entries in the Roud Indexes at the Vaughn Williams Memorial Library: https://archives.vwml.org/search/all:single[folksong-broadside-books]/0_50/all/score_desc/extended-roudNo_tr%3A23528
Kilgarrif Sing Us
Lyrics and sheet music: Ascherberg’s 20th Century Albums: Veteran Songs of the Good Old Music Hall Days c1950, p26
Collected from the singing of: Wratten, Bill; England: Sussex; 1960
I'm an inoffensive curate, I'm the meekest of the meek,
You'll all be pleased to hear that I was 21 last week.
We gave a little party just in honour of the day,
We had milk and we had bath buns and I'm very pleased to say:
We really had a most delightful evening,
A lovely evening, a beautiful evening.
We really had a most delightful evening,
And the vicar called and brought his tiddlywinks!
[Spoken: What a night!]
Our ladies have a sewing meeting, they meet every week or so
I popped in last Thursday just to see them all you know
I found them very busy just as busy as bee
They were making er … garments which they kindly showed to me
We really had a most delightful evening,
A sewing evening, a garmentry evening.
We really had a most delightful evening,
And some were trimmed with lace and some were not!
Our spinsters are a charming lot of that I am convinced,
I went out with our spinsters, for I love to see them "spinst".
We sat down in a hayfield to enjoy the evening breeze,
But woe is me I sat upon a hive of busy bees
We really had a most delightful evening,
A buzzing evening, a busy evening.
We really had a most delightful evening,
I was stung upon the ... twenty fourth of June
A song remembered by Sussex singer Bill Wratten in the early 1960s – you can hear a recording of him singing it on the Vaughan Williams Memorial library site. It was originally written 50 or so years earlier by the prolific Music Hall songwriters Worton David and Bert Lee. It was a hit for a comedian largely forgotten today, Ernest Shand whose brief biography is given below…
Ernest Shand (1868-1924) was a Yorkshire born comedian, popular in the years immediately preceding the First World War. According to his obituary in the Guardian newspaper:
In his later years he became associated with the part of a curate – one with an unctuous cadence, a pontifical manner, and a considerable command of innuendo. He was not a subtle comedian; his main assets were a good voice, a firmness of enunciation that sent home his points, even to the remotest rows of the gallery, and a confident and rather graceful movement on the stage.
Mr Ernest Shand (Obituary); The Manchester Guardian, 1 December 1924.
Shand was also a talented classical guitarist and wrote numerous pieces for the instrument. It’s been argued that he was the most important classical guitarist of his generation, though sadly he worked at a time when the classical guitar was not particularly popular. His obituaries either seem to imply that he was a talented classical guitarist who was forced to make his living as a music hall comedian or that he was a talented comedian who sadly gave up the stage early too pursue his musical interests…
Modern performances of the Rebel song: The Irish Rovers, The Wolfe Tones
From Henry de Marsan Singers Journal No 28 p190 (1868)
They may talk of Flying Childers,
And the speed of Harkaway,
Till the fancy it bewilders,
As you list to what they say;
But for real bone and beauty
Though, to travel near and far,
The fattest mare you'll find, belongs
To Pat of Mullingar.
She can trot along, jog along,
Drag a jaunting-car;
No day's too long, when set along
With Pat of Mullingar.
She was bred in Connemara,
And brought up at Castlemaine;
She won cups at the Currah,
The finest baste on all the plain!
All countries And conveyances
She has been buckled to;
She lost an eye at Limerick,
And an ear at Waterloo.
If a friend you wish to find, sir,
I'll go wherever you want;
I'll drive you out of your mind, sir,
Or a little way beyont,
Like an arrow through the air,
If you'll step upon the car,
You'll ride behind the little mare
Of Pat of Mullingar.
To Dallymount or Kingston,
If the place you wish to see,
I'll drive you to the Strawberry-beds.
It's all the same to me;
To Donnybrook, whose ancient fair
Is famed for love And war;
Or if you have the time to spare,
We'll go to Mullingar.
When on the road we're going,
The other carmen try
(Without the darling knowing),
To pass her on the sly;
Her one ear points up to the sky.
She tucks her haunches in;
Then shows the lads how she can fly,
As I sit still and grin!
Then, should yez want a car, sirs,
I hope you'll not forget
Poor Pat of Mullingar, sirs,
And his darlin' little pet;
She's as gentle as the dove, sirs,
Her speed you can't deny;
And there's no blind side about her,
Though she only has one eye.
An Irish comic song from 1860, written and performed by Harry Sydney, also performed by Sam Collins. The original version was usually sung in the character of an Irish carman describing the excellent qualities of his horse. Comic play is made of comparisons with great racehorses of the past (Flying Childers and Harkaway) and the horse’s involvement in great historical events.
It was regularly sung by amateur singers in England in the late 19th century and widely reprinted in slightly varying versions in cheap 19th-century street literature in Ireland, England and America.
Some late 20th century sources suggest that it was a Harry Clifton song, but I think this is dubious – it doesn’t seem to been mentioned as such in any 19th-century publications . The earliest reference to the song that I can find in 19th-century newspapers and periodicals is from 1860:
Apr. 15, 1860, The Era
The song has regularly appeared in several 20th-century collections of Irish traditional song, including the 1939 Irish Street Ballads by Colm O Lochlain, who describes it as:
A favourite tune with ballad singers; and in the North is best known as The South Down Militia:
You may talk about yer Queens Guards, Scots Greys and a’ You may rave about here Kilties and yer bonny Forty Twa And every other regiment under the Queens command But the South Down militia is the terror of the land
A version of this latter with many local and topical verses was popular in Irish Volunteers circles in 1913/16
Irish Street Ballads, Colm O Lochlain, p227
The song is now best known as a Rebel Song, a form written some time in the late 20th century and recorded by the Irish Rovers:
Grandfather Bryan My Grandfather Brian Grandfather O’Brien
First Published
c1860
Writer/composer
unknown
Roud
RN17696
Music Hall Performers
Sam Collins
Folk performances
Collected from the singing of: Lawrence, Mrs; Ireland : Co. Wicklow; 1937/38 Wills, Gordon; Canada : Newfoundland; 1952 Rice, Gordon; Canada : Newfoundland; 1952 Townsend, Bob; England : Gloucestershire; 1975 Lyons, Jack; Ireland : Co. Kerry; 1980 Modern performances The McNulty Family
Grandfather Brian departed this life,
It was on Saint Patrick's day.
He started off to the next world
Without ever asking the way;
Leaving me all his riches,
With a great deal of wealth, d'ye see?
With a pair of his cloth leather breeches.
That buttoned up down to the knee.
Hurrah, for my grandfather Brian!
I wish he was living, och, sure!
And every day he'd be dying,
To be leaving me ten times as much more.
He left me the whole two sides of bacon,
Only one half was just cut away,
With a broomstick, with the head of a rake on,
And a held full of straw to make hay;
He left me some props and some patches,
With a beautiful new smock frock;
Six beautiful hens to lay duck's eggs,
Only one turned out to be a cock.
He left me a well full of water,
Only some said it was dry;
Three pitfulls of sand, lime and mortar,
And a squinting tom-cat with one eye;
He left me an old dog and kitten,
His lapstone, knife and brad-awl;
With a lump of Dutch cheese that was bitten,
And a box full of nothing at all.
He left me a glass that was broken,
With a pair of new boots without soles;
And, faith! if the truth must be spoken,
A kettle with fifty-five holes;
A knife board make out of leather,
A treacle pot half full of glue;
A down bed without ever a feather,
And a fine coat nigh handy in two.
He left me a mighty fine clock, too,
Full of brass wheels made out of wood;
A key without ever a lock, too,
A stool to sit down where I stood;
A blanket made out of cloth patches,
A bread basket made of tinware;
A window without any sashes,
And a horse collar made for a mare.
He left me a starling, a beauty,
But it turned out to be a thrush;
He bid me in life do my duty,
And never comb my hair with a brush;
He left me six pounds all in copper,
With a splendid straight rule double bent;
And a beautiful 'bacca stopper,
With a view of Blackwater, in Kent.
He left me some whiskey for drinking,
And a beautiful stick, look at that;
And also a she bull for milking,
And a second-hand silk beaver hat;
He left me a shirt all in tatters.
Amongst other things, I must state;
And a rare stock of old broken platter,
And, In fact, all the family plate.
He left me the bog for a garden,
One night it got covered with the flood,
And when I went out in the morning,
I went up to my two eyes in mud;
He left me a fine mare for breeding,
Its age was over threescore,
And when I come here next evening,
I will tell you ten times as much more.
An Irish comic song, probably sung by Sam Collins in the early British music halls, remembered by members of the Irish diaspora throughout the English-speaking world. It proved particularly popular in Newfoundland where its found in several versions (see GEST Songs Of Newfoundland And Labrador). It was recorded by popular Irish American performers The McNulty Family in 1938. You can hear an English version collected by Gwilym Davies from the singing of Bob Townsend at the Glostrad site
The song is often credited to Newfoundland songwriter Johnny Burke (1851-1930) though it is very unlikely that he wrote the original version. The original song seems to have been written in the late 1850s – local newspaper reports indicate that a song called Grandfather Brian/Bryan was regularly sung at amateur entertainments in England from 1864 on. It also appears widely in 19th century broadsides and songsters on both sides of the Atlantic, though where the song was written and by whom is a mystery to me. The earliest vaguely datable publication seems to have been in The Rose , Shamrock and Thistle song book : songs of the old country for people of the colonies (New York, c1860). It has appeared regularly in collections of traditional Irish songs throughout the late 19th and 20th century.
An undated London broadside held in the Madden Collection suggests it was “sung by Sam Collins” and there is a reference to Collins singing a song with a very similar title in 1858 at a concert for the Dover Catch Club at the Apollonian Hall, Dover in Kent:
Sam Collins gave a comic song entitled “My grandfather’s will” and created roars of laughter. His style is peculiarly his own and he does not indulge in the low sort of grimaces which many comic singers will have it tell so much with an audience [sic]. He sings with ease and freedom and his points always provoked most hearty laughter.
Dover Chronicle, Saturday, 20 November 1858, p5
[There was also an early 19th century play by Frederick Reynolds called My grandfather’s will but I have not found any connection]
Earliest found instance in repertoire of amateur singer: Grandfather Bryan was sung by Mr Spary at the Rayleigh Literary Institute, near Chelmsford (Chelmsford Chronicle, Friday 16th December 1864, p6)
Collected from the singing of: Sargent, Irene; USA: Arkansas; 1960
I Whistle and Wait for Katie.
Written and Composed by Michael Nolan. Arranged by John S. Baker.
After business you will find me, every night as sure as fate,
At the corner of the street here, waiting for my bonnie Kate;
Her papa has quite forbidden young men to the house to go.
In consequence of which I whistle, just to let my true love know.
I am waiting here to greet blue-eyed Kate with kisses sweet;
Every night at the end of the street I whistle and wait for Katie.
You may think it awkward standing in a business street like this,
But I'm sure you would not mind it could you meet so sweet a Miss;
Of course I wait till all is still, see there's no one passing by,
Before I venture on the whistle, known alone to "Kate and I."
How her father means to take it, When he hears the news, forsooth,
I wonder what he'll say to Katie when he learns It is the truth;
I've at least this consolation, that my heart is just and right.
Therefore I shall fondly whistle for my Katie every night.
This song was a hit in 1890 – published as sheet music in London and Chicago and widely reproduced in cheap songsters and song sheets (like the one shown here) in the USA.
In the UK it was a hit in the Halls for the man who wrote and composed it, the Irish comic Michael Nolan. As was often the case with the most popular songs, it featured in several Christmas pantomimes in winter 1890/91. But it was particularly in America that the song took on a life of its own, where by the 1920s and 30s it was being sung by barbershop quartets and had been adopted as a cowboy song and “barn dance favourite”.
In 1960 it was collected from the singing of an Ozark traditional singer, Irene Sargent – her version can be heard in the collection of Ozark folk song held at the University of Arkansas.
Here is a magnificent cowboy version from the 1930s
Extract from Pinto Pete and His Ranch Boys episode 58
Collected from the singing of: Goodchild, James; England : Hampshire; 1976
Love rules the world, the poet cries,
Love rules the world, the week and the wise,
Give me your hand, O maiden fair.
Look in my eyes, O maiden rare.
Love is a Fountain where nectar flows,
Take we the cup ere the sunlight goes:
Drink of the wine in Love’s noonday:
Eyes have a language of their own, they say:
Your eyes have told me all, your secret now is mine
Although you do not speak that word divine.
You do not bid me stay, nor do you bid me go
But yet I know you love me: your eyes have told me so!
Love rules the world, the poet cries
Men come and go, but love never dies.
Youth now is ours, but time flies fast;
Drink of the sweets while youth shall last.
Fate led my feet to a beauteous shrine;
Fate let my heart to a soul divine;
Eyes told the tale in Love’s own way:
Eyes have a language of their own, they say:
A sentimental song popular in the UK in 1909-1911, it was collected by Steve Roud from the singing of James Goodchild in 1976, and a snatch of it can be heard on the Vaughan Williams Memorial Library website.
First published by Nightingale & Co of London in 1908, it was later described as “The song of 1911” with the claim that by February 1911 they had already sold 50,000 copies of the sheet music. The song seems to have been sung by a number of different male and female singers but does not seem to have become associated with a particular famous performer*. Like other sentimental songs in the period 1900 to 1920, the song was promoted using a series of postcards printed by Bamforth & Co -seen in slide show below.
Not to be confused with a later, perhaps more famous song of the same title from America’s Tin Pan Alley, first line: I know my lips never met your lips in sweet caress. This later sentimental song, first published in 1919, was written by Gustave Kahn and Egbert Van Alstyne and composed by Walter Blaufuss. It was sung by amongst others John McCormack and Doris Day
*Michael Kilgarriff suggests it was in the repertoire of Irish comedian Michael Nolan (who died in 1910). I have not been able to find any record of this in the usual publications.
Collected from the singing of: McCarthy, Mikeen; Ireland : Co. Kerry; 1975/76 Unknown singer ; County Wexford Traditional Singers ; 1993 Modern performances Ruby Murray,
Nora Malone, long have I known
How you've been teasin'
When you should be pleasin' your boy, my own
When you're away, I fret and pray
Just to be hearin' a word that's endearin'
You should send me one ev'ry day
Nora Malone, call me by phone
Number one, two, three, four, main
Don't forget the number while you slumber
Open your eyes when you arise
Hear all the blarney of your Barney Carney from Killarney
Colleens are few, there's none like you
In the old town of Athlone
Mushawurra, wurra, wurra, wurra
Old Erin's isle could not make me smile
Without Nora Malone
I love to hear, Barney my dear
Weepin' and wailin' as though you were ailin'
When I'm not here,
I'll be your bride, when love decides
Now stop your cooin' and your silly wooin'
I want to hear somethin' besides
A hit in the period before the first war, this song from America’s Tin Pan Alley was incorporated into the New York production of The Yankee Girl in 1910, but in Ireland and mainland Britain it was popularised in the music halls by the Hedges Brothers and Jacobson.
The Hedges Brothers and Jacobson were a relatively short lived trio from San Francisco who were very popular in the UK during the short ragtime craze of 1911 to 1912.
VERMAZEN, B. (2013) ‘“Those Entertaining Frisco Boys”: Hedges Brothers and Jacobson’, Journal of the Society for American Music, 7(1), pp. 29–63. doi:10.1017/S1752196312000478.
Collected from the singing of: Dean, Michael Cassius; USA : Minnesota; 1922
I've often heard my daddy speak of Ireland's lakes and dells,
The place must be like Heaven, if it's half like what he tells;
There's roses fair and shamrocks there, and laughing waters flow;
I have never seen that Isle of Green, But there's one thing sure I know.
Ireland must be Heaven, for an angel came from there,
I never knew a living soul, one half as sweet or fair,
For her eyes are like the star light, And the white clouds match her hair,
Sure Ireland Must be Heaven, For My Mother Came From There.
I've pictured in my fondest dreams old Ireland's vales and rills,
I see a stairway to the sky, formed by her verdant hills;
Each wave that's in the ocean blue just loves to hug the shore,
So if Ireland isn't Heaven, then sure, It must be right next door.
A huge, sentimental Tin Pan Alley hit in America in 1916, sung by a range of different American performers. It was popularised in the British music halls by Ethel Castaldini and later became part of the repertoire of Josef Locke.
Collected from the singing of: McGettigan, John; USA : Philadelphia; 1929 McDonald, Simon; Australia : Victoria; 1967 Clark, LaRena; Canada : Ontario; 1968 Anderson, Grace; Scotland : Shetland; 1974 Gavan, Loy; Canada : Quebec : Chapeau 1978 Lavallee, Kluana; Canada : Quebec : Chapeau 1978 Modern performances Slim Whitman, Foster and Allen, Ruby Murray, Gloria Hunniford and many many more
From Wehrman's Universal Songster Volume 34 (1892):
The Stone Outside Dan Murphy's Door.
Copyright, 1891, by Frank Harding.
Written and Composed by J. P. Dane.
There's a sweet garden spot in our memory
It's the place we were born in and reared
It's long years ago since we left it
But return there we will if we're spared
Our friends and companions of childhood
Would assemble each night near a score
Round Dan Murphy's shop, and how often we sat
On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door
Those days in our hearts we will cherish
Contented although we were poor
And the songs that were sung
In the days we were young
On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door
When our day's work was over we'd meet there
In the winter or spring just the same
Then the boys and the girls all together
Would join in some innocent game
Dan Murphy would take down his fiddle
While his daughter looked after the store
The music did ring and sweet songs we would sing
On the stone outside Dan Murphy's door
Back again will our thoughts often wander
To the scenes of our childhood's home
The friends and companions we left there
It was poverty caused us to roam
Since then in this life we have prospered
But still in our hearts we feel sore
For memory will fly to those days long gone by
And the stone outside Dan Murphy's door
A sentimental song from the late 19th-century remembered by multiple traditional singers in Ireland and its diaspora. I’m suggesting that the usual attribution may be incorrect…
The original song is usually credited to Johnny Patterson, a famous Irish clown and piper, successful on both sides of the Atlantic. The attribution to Patterson has been repeated many times over the years, but the ready availability of thousands of 19th-century newspapers and periodicals in easily searchable electronic form seems to undermine the claim. I have made extensive searches of 19th-century publications from Ireland, Britain and the USA find no evidence to support the attribution to Patterson – do let me know if you can find any!
All the contemporary 19th century sources that I can find suggest that the song was first written, composed and sung by John P Dane. Here are two examples of several dozen, including the earliest reference I can find to the song, in October 1888:
Oct. 13, 1888; The Era
A few month’s later:
May 25, 1889;The Era
Patterson did not copyright his songs, so it is possible that he wrote it and Dane claimed it as his own. However, my feeling is that unless we can find some 19th-century sources that suggest that Patterson wrote the song, it’s safer to attribute it to Dane who built a career of over 20 years singing this ballad – as late as 1896 he was advertised in Belfast as the original singer of The stone outside Dan Murphy’s door.
The song was widely published in broadsides and cheap songbooks on both sides of the Atlantic, usually uncredited but occasionally attribute to Dane. Suggestions that it was one of Johnny Patterson’s songs seem to start in the mid-20th century.
The following biography of Dane was cobbled together from references in 19th-century newspapers and periodicals, mostly The Era :
John P Dane was most often described as a “character dialect comedian” or “comedian and dancer”. He seems to have begun his career with appearances in Liverpool and north-west England in 1888. His rise from the “provinces” to the capital was rapid, and he was boasting an “instantaneous success in London” in May 1889. He appeared as Widow Twankey in The Prince’s pantomime (Blackburn) in 1889/90, which later toured. He appeared in the “highly successful and refined comic operetta” Margery later that year.. Dane toured widely in Ireland and Britain in the 1890s and early 1900s. References to him seemed to cease in around 1907.
