The mother’s lament. Your baby has gone down the plug hole. In U.S.A.: The Drain Song (Your baby has gone down the dream pipe)
Lyrics
“Jack Spade”
Music
“Jack Spade”
Roud Index
RN19810
Music Hall performers
Elsa Lanchester 1940s
Folk performances
Martin Carthy 1963
A mother was bathing her baby one night
The youngest of ten, and a tiny young mite
The mother was poor and the baby was thin
Only a skeleton covered with skin
The mother turned round for the soap off the rack
She was but a moment, but when she looked back
Her baby was gawn and in anguish she cried
'Oh where is my baby?' The Angels replied,
Chorus:'Your baby has gone down the plug-hole
Your baby has gone down the plug
The poor little thing was so skinny and thin
It should have been washed in a jug
Your baby is ever so happy
He won't need a bath any more
Your baby has gone down the plughole
Not lost but gone before.'
The mother was frantic, the baby was gawn,
But she had got nine more, and the water still warm
She covered her eye-balls and stuck in a pin
Picked out another one ever so thin
Then into the water she brushed off a tear
When she turned back, she said 'crumbs it's not here'
'Now that one has gawn' and in anguish she cried
'Oh where is my baby?' The Angels replied,
The mother was livid. 'How dare you.' she cried
'Don't take no more chances' the Angels replied
'We've had your two young'ns, we'd like a few more'
Then gave her a nice smile and dissolved through the floor
Now mother was boiling. She smashed in the bath
'You're not having my kids.,' she cried with a laugh
Now they've not touched no water from that very day
'It's the smell' Mother says, 'That keeps the Angels away.'
Martin Carthy sang this back in the early 60s, sticking to the first verse only. The bloated behemoth (hehe) that was Cream perhaps heard it first from Martin – they did a very similar version on Disraeli Gears a few years later. Cream suggested it was a traditional song, but it seems to have been written in 1944 by Elton Box, Desmond Cox and Lewis Ilda, under the collective pseudonym Jack Spade, though it’s possible that it’s older…
An American version was recorded by Dorothy Shea, credited to Amsterdam and Kirkpatrick in 1951
Various versions of this song have been collected One was collected by Percy Grainger in Lincolnshire from the singing of Bryan Cooper in 1906.
I'm the lad that's free and easy
Wherever I chance to be,
And I'll do my best to please ye,
If you will but list to me
So let the world jog along as it will,I'll be free and easy still;Free and easy, free and easy,I'll be free and easy still.
Some there are who meet their troubles.
Others drown their cares in drink;
Half our trials are but bubbles,
Fretting forges many a link
Should Prince Albert to sit beside me
I'd smoke my pipe with usual glee
Let puppies laugh and fools deride me
Still I'd free and easy be
I envy neither great nor wealthy,
Poverty I ne’er despise,
Let me be contented, healthy,
And the boon I'll dearly prize
The great have cares I little know of,
All that glitters is not gold,
Merit's seldom made a show of,
And true worth is rarely bold
Why then waste our days in fretting?
The longest lane must have an end,
The wealth that costs such toil in getting,
Takes but little time to spend
I care for all, yet care for no man,
Those who mean well need not fear,
I like a man, I love a woman
What else makes this life so dear
Almost certainly a song whose chorus was around before the Halls, this version is usually credited to Harry Sydney, who performed it in the 1840s at various men only late-night supper rooms, including one called “Evans’ Late Joys’” (Evans had taken over the rooms previously run by Mr Joys hehe) . These supper rooms catered largely to middle-class males, but were an early influence on the more down-to-earth public-house singalongs that sometimes evolved into music hall.
The repertoire in the late-night male-only supper rooms could get quite racy and there is a whole book of Bawdy songs from this period. As well as the bawdy songs, the repertoire seem to include a greater proportion of older songs which we might now consider to be folksongs. These were often sung to comic effect, sometimes dressed in character and often in a comical accent. It may be that Free and Easy was sung in this way .
Broadsides of a song called “Free and Easy” were published as early as 1832 (and probably earlier). Harry Sydney was born in 1825, so it seems unlikely that he wrote these earliest versions, if its the same song …
A mother’s plea for peace I didn’t raise my son to be a soldier
First Published
1915
Lyrics
Arthur Bryan
Music
Al. Piantadosi
Roud
V53403
Music Hall performers
Gene Greene, 1910s USA Peerless Quartet, 1910s USA
Folk performances
Hamish Imlach 1985 Sandra Kerr, ??
1916 version
Ten million soldiers to the war have gone,
Who may never return again.
Ten million mothers' hearts must break
For the ones who died in vain.
Head bowed down in sorrow
In her lonely years,
I heard a mother murmur thru' her tears:
I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier,
I brought him up to be my pride and joy.
Who dares to place a musket on his shoulder,
To shoot some other mother's darling boy?
Let nations arbitrate their future troubles,
It's time to lay the sword and gun away.
There'd be no war today,
If mothers all would say,
"I didn't raise my boy to be a soldier."
What victory can cheer a mother's heart,
When she looks at her blighted home?
What victory can bring her back
All she cared to call her own?
Let each mother answer
In the years to be,
Remember that my boy belongs to me!
Hamish Imlach version with lyrics by Ewan McVicar.
I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
I brought him up to be my pride and joy
Who dares to put a musket on his shoulder
To shoot another mother's darling boy
Why should he fight in someone else's quarrels
It's time to throw the sword and gun away
There would be no war today
If the nations all would say
No I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
To go fighting in some far-off foreign land
He may get killed before he's any older
For a cause that he will never understand
Why should he fight another rich man's battle
While they stay at home and while their time away
Let those with most to lose
Fight each other if they choose
For I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
To go fighting heathens round the Horn
If God required to prove that boys are bolder
They'd have uniforms and guns when they were born
Why should we have wars about religion
When Jesus came to teach us not to kill
Do Zulus and Hindoos
Not have the right to choose
For I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
I raised him up to be a gentleman
To find a sweet young girl and love and hold her
Bring me some grandchildren when they can
Why can't we decide that the Empire
Is just as large as it requires to be
And I'd rather lose it all
Than to see my laddie fall
For I didn't raise my son to be a soldier
As I sing it:
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
I raised him up to be my pride and joy
Why should he put a rifle to his shoulder
To kill some other mothers darling boy
Let nations arbitrate their future troubles
it’s time to throw the sword and gun away
There would be no war today
If mothers all would say
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
To go fighting in some far off foreign land
He may get killed before he’s any older
For a cause that he may never understand
Why should he fight another rich man’s battle
While they stay at home and stow their gold away
let those with wealth to lose
Fight each other if they choose
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
To kill other sons and daughters in a war
If God required to prove that boys are bolder
They’d have uniforms and guns when they are born
They pretend we have these wars about religion
When Jesus came to teach us not to kill
Christians Muslims or Hindus
Those boys have all got mothers too
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
I raised him up to be a gentle man
to find someone to love and to hold them
and bring me some grandchildren if they want
why can’t we all agree that empires
Should be relics of our ancient history
let’s just forget them all
Let’s not see our children fall
I didn’t raise my boy to be a soldier
Hamish Imlach suggested that his version was an adaption of a British anti-war song from the time of the Boer War. This may be true, but I haven’t found any evidence as yet, and all the Music Hall sources are adamant that it was written around the time of the First World War by Bryan and Piantodosi.
So this appears to be an American vaudeville song, until someone shows me different! It was a big hit in 1916 in America reflecting a strong current of isolationist anti-war opinion, partly from the American South, and partly from a large population of Republican Irish and German émigrés. It was most associated with the singing of Gene Green (sometimes Greene) a vaudeville performer based in Chicago, which had a large German – American population. Gene Greene did tour Europe in the period leading up to the First World War, but I can’t establish whether this song was sung by him or anyone else on the British music hall stage.
President Roosevelt is said to have scoffed that you might as well say “I didn’t raise my girl to be a mother”, which rather misses the point of this attempt at a feminist anti-war song. (I say “attempt” at a feminist anti-war song as it was mostly sung and written by men, as far as I can see, and I’m not sure that it should just be mothers that oppose War.) I’ve recently discovered that Sandra Kerr sings a version of this song – see below!
Mrs Caulfield 1840s (Mrs Forsyth 1850s-60s, USA) Jenny Hill, 1870s
Folk performances
Source singers Wilbur, Mrs. Marie 1926 USA : Missouri Lunsford, Bascom Lamar 1935 USA : N. Carolina Macauley, John Henry 1936 N. Ireland : Co. Antrim Alderman, Walter 1937 USA : Virginia Brady, Hubert 1939 USA : California Fish, Lena Bourne 1941 USA : New Hampshire Ewell, Miss Maud A. 1941 USA : Virginia Coutts, Willie 1948 Scotland : Shetland Isles Judkins, Mrs. Clarice 1951 USA : Oregon Smith, Mrs. Horace 1958 (3 Nov) USA : Arkansas Larner, Sam 1958-60 England : Norfolk Jones, Nancy 1968-73 USA ; N. Carolina Woodall, Mrs. Lucy 1974-77 USA : Alabama Modern performances Sung by Dolly and Shirley Collins, John Kirkpatrick and others.
They marched through the town with banners so gay
I rushed to the window to hear the band play
I peeped through the blind very cautiously then
Lest the neighbours should say I was looking at the men
I heard the drums beat and the music so sweet
But my eyes just then had a much finer treat
The troops were the finest that I had ever seen
And the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me
Took a sly glance at me,
Took a sly glance at me,
When the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me
When we met at the ball I of course thought it right
To pretend that we never had met before that night
But he knew me at once I could tell by his glance
And I bowed my head when he asked me to dance
He sat by my side at the end of the set
And the sweet words he spoke I shall never forget
my heart was enlisted and could never break free
When the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me
Took a sly glance at me,
Took a sly glance at me,
When the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me
Now they’ve marched from the town I will see him no more
But I think of him often and the whiskers that he wore
I dream all the night and I think all the day
Of the love of the captain who is now so far away
I hold it in my mind how my heart did skip a beat
When the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me
I remember with superabundant delight
How we met at the ball and we danced all night
How we danced all night
How we danced all night
How we met at the ball and we danced all night
And I hold it in my mind how my heart did skip with glee
when the captain with his whiskers took a sly glance at me
This song probably started with an English song by TH Bayly(1707-1839), a version was published in 1827 which states that it was perform in an operetta called The Grenadier at the Royal Olympic Theatre. It also turned up in America in 1838, allegedly written by Sydney Nelson and called Oh! They Marched Through The Town. It was sung on the American stage in the 1850s by Mrs WJ Florence who appeared to add a final verse which implied a happy ending.
The song was a hit for Mrs Caulfield in the 1840s in the Cider Cellars of London and elsewhere. On this side of the Atlantic it became better known as The Captain with his Whiskers. It was further adapted lyrically and musically by Alfred Mullen, published in London in 1863. The 1863 version was sung on the British Music Hall stage by Jenny Hill, with something like the words included here. Various American sheet music versions of the songs are available, almost all printed in the 1860s, reflecting the huge popularity on both sides of the American Civil War.
The folksong has been collected from source singers in England, America and Ireland. The music has appeared as a Morris tune from Brackley in Northamptonshire, and may be related to another tune The wearing of the green.
Sheet music for Jenny Hill version not found yet, for Mrs Forsyth’s version see the Levy collection (the Union version) and a Confederate version from the Library of Congress.
Kilgarriff Sing us one
Some of the story of the song can be found at Mainly Norfolk but some of the dates/ details have been (I think) corrected above.
Pre WW2 Source Singers: WH Lunt, 1892, Liverpool, England Samuel Fone, 1893, Devon, England Louie Hooper, Lucy White, 1903, Somerset, England William Nott, 1904, Devon, England Thomas Gale, 1906, Dorset, England Mrs Seale, 1906, Dorset, England Mrs Goodyear, 1907, Hamps, England George Blake, 1907, Hamps, England Charles Bull, 1907, Hamps, England Bill Bailey, 1907, Somerset, England William Stokes, 1907, Somerset, England Edmund Wittington, 1908, Surrey, England Fanny Boulden, 1923, N. Dakota, USA Francis Herreshoff, 1928, Massachusetts, USA John McPherson, ca1930, co. Durham England Miss Margaret Michie May, 1936, Virginia, USA Horace Brown, (1930) Vermount, USA
Recent folk performances Too many to mention them all: Steve Benbow, Steeleye Span, Walter Pardon, Peter Coe,
Oh my name is Sam Hall, Sam Hall
Oh my name is Sam Hall
And I hate you one and all
You’re a gang of muckers all
Damn your eyes.
Oh, I killed a man they said, so they said
Yes, I killed a man they said
For I cracked him on the head
And left him there for dead
Damn his eyes.
So they put me in the quad, in the quad
Yes, they put me in the quad
With a chain and iron rod
And they left me there, by God
Damn their eyes.
And the parson he did come, he did come
And the parson he did come
And he looked so ******* glum
With his talk of Kingdom Come
Damn his eyes.
And the sheriff he came too, he came too
And the sheriff he came too
With his boys all dressed in blue
They’re a gang o’ muckers too
Damn their eyes.
So it’s up the rope ye go, up ye go
So it’s up the rope ye go
With your friends all down below
Saying “Sam, I told you so”
Damn their eyes.
Saw my Nellie in the crowd, in the crowd,...
She was looking stooped and bowed,
So I hollered, right out loud,
"Hey, Nellie, ain't you proud?
God damn your eyes."
So this’ll be my knell, be my knell
So this’ll be my knell
Hope God damns you all to hell
An I hope you sizzle well
Damn your eyes.
And now I goes upstairs, goes upstairs
And now I goes upstairs
Here’s an end to all my cares
So tip up all your prayers
Damn your eyes.
Jack/Sam Hall has been recorded commercially by a wide range of artists, from Johnny Cash to Steeleye Span – for an up-to-date summary of versions by relatively modern British traditional performers, Mainly Norfolk has the story.
The song Sam Hall appears to have been popular throughout the 19th century, and appears widely in broadsides and songbooks on both sides of the Atlantic. Versions have been collected from dozens of source singers. I have provided a list of those given by the Vaughan Williams Memorial library, focusing on those prior to World War II, though there are many from after it too!
The story of the Music Hall song is relatively straightforward: in the 1840s the Music Hall singer W G Ross revised the traditional ballad Jack Hall, changing the name to Sam Hall in the process. Jack Hall appeared as a broadside in the 1830s but is likely to be older, possibly 17th century.
WG Ross made his fortune singing this song, becoming a huge attraction in early Music Halls all over England. On 10 March 1848 Percival Leigh noted the following account of an evenings entertainment in an early Music Hall:
‘After that, to supper at the Cider Cellars in Maiden Lane, wherein was much Company, great and small, and did call for Kidneys and Stout, then a small glass of Aqua-vitae and water, and thereto a Cigar. While we supped, the Singers did entertain us with Glees and comical Ditties; but oh, to hear with how little wit the young sparks about town were tickled! But the thing that did most take me was to see and hear one Ross sing the song of Sam Hall the chimney-sweep, going to be hanged: for he had begrimed his muzzle to look unshaven, and in rusty black clothes, with a battered old Hat on his crown and a short Pipe in his mouth, did sit upon the platform, leaning over the back of a chair: so making believe that he was on his way to Tyburn. And then he did sing to a dismal Psalm-tune, how that his name was Sam Hall and that he had been a great Thief, and was now about to pay for all with his life; and thereupon he swore an Oath, which did make me somewhat shiver, though divers laughed at it. Then, in so many verses, how his Master had badly taught him and now he must hang for it: how he should ride up Holborn Hill in a Cart, and the Sheriffs would come and preach to him, and after them would come the Hangman; and at the end of each verse he did repeat his Oath. Last of all, how that he should go up to the Gallows; and desired the Prayers of his Audience, and ended by cursing them all round. Methinks it had been a Sermon to a Rogue to hear him, and I wish it may have done good to some of the Company. Yet was his cursing very horrible, albeit to not a few it seemed a high Joke; but I do doubt that they understood the song.’
The full story of the ballad of Jack Hall, and its relationship to other songs like the ballad of Capt Kidd, is likely to be quite complex, and according to a post by Malcolm Douglas on Mudcat:
the most comprehensive examination of this song and tune family is Bertrand Bronson’s Samuel Hall’s Family Tree (California Folklore Quarterly, I (1) 1942, and The Ballad as Song, University of California Press, 1969 18-36).
