I sometimes wish I was a kid again,
Down in the old neighborhood.
Just to be with Charlie,
With little Joe and Pete,
Boy, we had a quartet that
Was mighty hard to beat!
I'd love to stand down by that cellar door,
Just to hear that quartet sing once more:

"Heart of my heart"
I love that melody.
"Heart of my heart"
Brings back a memory.
When we were kids
On the corner of the street,
We were rough and ready guys,
But oh, how we could harmonize!
"Heart of my heart"
Meant friends were dearer then.
Too bad we had to part.
I know a tear would glisten
If only I could listen
To the gang that sang
"Heart of my heart."

Dad only sang the first part a few times.  The only ones I remember were from when he used that pink music book that had, Darktown Strutter's Ball and Ding Dong Daddy from Dumas, and Has Anybody Seen My Gal in it when we lived in Meiner's Oaks on El Roblar.  I don't remember him singing it often but when he did, it was usually without the "preface".  I guess that's probably why I always picture a quartet of young men lounging around in spats on the corner by that house whenever he sings it.

It's the only song that Dad played and sang without any kind of introduction.  Most songs had some kind of measure to give us a hint of what was coming but not Shanty in Old Shanty Town.  Such a pretty song.

It's only a shanty in old Shanty Town.

The roof is so slanty it touches the ground.

But that tumbled down shack

By the old railroad track,

Like a millionaire's mansion

Is calling me back.

I'd give up a palace if I were a king.

It's more than a palace it's my everything.

There's a girl waiting there

With a silvery crown-

In that shanty in old Shanty Town.

When I was around twelve I found another version of it on an album we had.  Dad's version was slow and plaintive.  This other version was kind of a jazzed up version.  The words were basically the same but they had little details added in between for "color'.

There's a shanty in a town on a little plot of ground

Where the green grass grows all around, all around

And the roof's so worn, so badly torn,

That it tumbles to the ground.

In a little grass shack that sits way back

About 25 feet from the railroad track

Lingers on my mind most all the time

Keeps calling me back to my little grass shack

I'd be as sassy as Haile Selassie

If I were a king, wouldn't mean a thing

Put my boots on tall, read the writing on the wall

Don't mean a thing, not a doggone thing

There's a queen waiting there in a rocking chair

Just blowing her top on a keg of beer

Looking all around and trucking on down

Cause I got to get back to my Shanty Town.

For a while Dad and I sang these together for fun.  I didn't usually sing with dad but I treasure the memory of the few times he let me sing with him.

I'm on a song-roll.  I think my favorite memory of this song is the time when we lived in Miners Oaks on El Roblar, when they had the reel-to-reel going and Aunt Marilyn sang along.  I don't ever remember her singing any other time.

We've had our stormy weather.

We've had our sunshine too.

We've shared them both together,

And I'm still here with you.

Sometimes I made you happy.

Sometimes I made you blue.

But love kept us together,

And I'm still here with you.

No other arms, no other lips

No other love beside me.

No other star of love-

To guide me.

Someday you'll go to heaven,

Like all good angels do.

I'll find my way to heaven.

And I'll be there with you.

No other arms, no other lips-

No other love but you.

Hmm... I just realized that dad never discussed the absolute horrific heretical theology in that song.  Maybe he assumed it was so blatant even I could figure it out.  ;)

They tell me papa that tonight

You'll wed another bride,

And you will clasp her in your arms

Where my dear mama died.

And she will lay her graceful head,

Upon your manly chest

Where she who now lies low in death

In life's last hours did rest.

Her name is Mary too, they say;

The name my mother wore.

Oh papa is she kind and true

Like the one you loved before.

And is her footstep soft and low,

Her voice so sweet and mild.

And papa will she love me too,

Your blind and helpless child.

Here papa do not bid me come

To meet your new made bride.

I could not meet her in the room

Where my dear mama died.

Her picture's hanging on the wall.

Her books are lying there.

Here's the harp her fingers played,

And there's her vacant chair.

A chair by which I used to kneel

To say my evening prayer.

Oh pa it almost breaks my heart;

I could not meet her there.

And as I cry myself to sleep,

As now I often do,

Then softly to my chamber creep

My new-made mama and you.

Please bid her gently press a kiss

Upon my throbbing brow,

Just as my own dear mama did.

Oh, pa, you're weeping now.

So I'll just kneel beside my bed,

And to my Savior pray.

That God's right hand will lead you both

Through life's long weary way."

A prayer was offered; then a song.

"I'm weary now," she said.

Her father raised her in his arms

And laid her on the bed.

And as he turned to leave the room,

One joyful cry was giv'n.

He turned and caught the last bright smile.

His blind child was in heav'n.

They laid her by her mother's side,

And raised a marble fair.

On it engraved those simple words,

"There'll be no blind ones there."

Such a beautiful song.  I hardly remember a song fest when dad didn't sing it.  It was one of my favorites.  Who am I kidding, they're all my favorites.

When I was a lad
And old shep was a pup,
Over hills and meadows we'd stray.
Just a boy and his dog,
We were both full of fun.
We grew up together that way.

I remember the time at the old swimming hole,
When I would have drowned beyond doubt.
But old Shep was right there-
To the rescue he came.
He jumped in and then pulled me out.

Now the years sped along,
And Old Shep he grew old.
His eyesight was fast growing dim.
One day the doctor looked at me and said,
"I can do no more for him Jim."

With hands that were trembling,
I picked up my gun.
And aimed it at Shep's faithful head.
I just couldn't do it;
I wanted to run;
I wished that they'd shoot me instead.

I went to his side,
And I sat on the ground.
He laid his head on my knee.
I stroked the best pal that a man ever found.
I cried so I scarcely could see.

Old Shepy he knew he was going to go,
For he reached out and nipped at my hand.
He looked up at me just as much as to say ,
"We're parting but you understand."

Old shep he has gone
Where the good doggies go
And no more with old Shep will I roam.
But if dogs have a heaven
Theres' one thing I know.
Old Shep has a wonderful home.

The line "old Shep he knew he was going to go..." alway choked me up  I just loved that song and for some reason, I had a mental image of Almanzo Wilder as the man in this song. 

Dad sang this one almost every time he played.  I remember him talking about it on the way to school one morning and pointing out the lousy theology of the song.  It seemed to dad that the tramp implied that he'd be admitted to heaven simply because he was poor and downtrodden on earth.  I never got that from the song.  I just assumed the tramp was saved and looking forward to a better life in heaven.

I've tramped o'er this old world quite lonely.

New pleasures I'd meet as I roam.

I've neither parents nor sweetheart,

Neither wife dog nor a home.

I'm always received by cold shelter,

And I've never had nothing to love.

But I'll get my reward in the future

In that beautiful home up above.

When I'm wearing a crown of glory

Play a harp of a thousand strings.

I'll tune it up, to concert pitch

And I'll play while the angels sing.

With the Son in that heavenly kingdom

And a crown around my head.

Wearing a satin robe whiter than snow,

Don'tcha know I'll be glad when I'm dead.

I've tramped o'er the roads in the country.

I'll eat at a farmhouse nearby,

Two bowls of milk and a doughnut

And a section of an apple pie.

When the sun has gone down in the evening

To the meadow I'd secretly creep.

Beautiful visions come o'er me,

And I'll lie there and dream as I sleep.

When I'm wearing a crown of glory

Play a harp of a thousand strings.

I'll tune it up, to concert pitch

And I'll play while the angels sing.

With the Son in that heavenly kingdom

And a crown around my head.

Wearing a satin robe whiter than snow,

Don'tcha know I'll be glad when I'm dead.

Only one of Dad's songs could make dying sound like a pleasure.  Reminds me of that woman in People Will Talk.

I have no idea if this is based on any kind of true story but I imagine similar things happened throughout time.  Maybe it was Soldier Claudius or Crusader Althwulf.  Whomever it was, I'm sure their sorrow was as great as the other men who regretted impulsive actions and lost a sweetheart.

He was just a lonely cowboy,

With a heart so brave and true.

And he learned to love a maiden,

With eyes of heaven's own blue.

They learned to love each other,

And named their wedding day.

When a quarrel came between them,

And Jack, he rode away.

He joined a band of cowboys,

And vowed he'd forget her name.

Out on the lonely prairie,

She waited just the same.

Your sweetheart waits for you, Jack.

Your sweetheart waits for you.

Out on the lonely prairie,

Where skies are always blue.

One night when work was finished,

Just at the close of day,

Someone said sing a song Jack.

That'll drive all cares away.

But when he started singing,

His mind did wander back.

For he sang of a lonely maiden,

Who waited for her Jack.

Your sweetheart waits for you, Jack.

Your sweetheart waits for you.

Out on the lonely prairie,

Where skies are always blue.

He left the range next morning,

Breathing his sweetheart's name.

Said, "I'll go and ask forgiveness.

"For I know I was to blame."

But when he reached the prairie,

He found a new-made mound.

His friends they sadly told him,

They'd laid his sweetheart down.

Your sweetheart waits for you, Jack.

Your sweetheart waits for you.

Out on the lonely prairie,

Where skies are always blue.

A few years ago, I was looking for musical chords to these songs and found another verse that Dad never sang.  I imagine it goes after the "laid sweetheart down" and before the chorus.

They said as she was dying
She breathed her sweetheart's name
And asked them with her last breath
To tell him when he came

...thumble thum thum...

Bonnie Black Bess

When fortune's blind goddess
Had fled my abode,
And friends proved unfaithful
I took to the road;
To plunder the wealthy
And relieve my distress,
I bought you to aid me,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

No vile whip nor spur
Did your sides ever gall,
For none did you need,
You would bound at my call;
And for each act of kindness
You would me caress.
Thou art never unfaithful,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

When dark, sable midnight
Her mantle had thrown
O'er the bright face of nature,
How oft we have gone
To the famed Hounslow heath,
Though an unwelcome guest
To the minions of fortune,
My Bonnie Black Bess!

How silent you stood
When the carriage I stopped!
The gold and the jewels
Its inmates would drop.
No poor man I plundered
Nor e'er did oppress
The widows or orphans,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

When Argus-eyed justice
Did me hot pursue,
From York town to London
Like lightning we flew.
No toll bars could stop you,
The waters did breast,
And in twelve hours we made it,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

But hate darkens o'er me,
Despair is my lot,
And the law does pursue me
For the many I've shot;
To save me, poor brute,
Thou hast done thy best,
Thou art worn out and weary,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

Hark! they never shall have
A beast like thee;
So noble and gentle
And brave, thou must die,
My dumb friend,
Though it does me distress.
There! There! I have shot thee,
My Bonnie Black Bess.

In after years
When I am dead and gone,
This story will be handed
From father to son;
My fate some will pity,
And some will confess
'Twas through kindness I killed
My Bonnie Black Bess.

No one can e'er say
That ingratitude dwelt
In the bosom of Turpin-
'Twas a vice never felt.
I will die like a man
And soon be at rest
Now, farewell forever
My Bonnie Black Bess.

I absolutely adored this song as a child.  It is one of the ones Dad sang most often and yet I still didn't memorize it.  I'm learning it now.  I want my children to love it as I do.  I've never understood why I never learned it but I didn't. 

This is another romanticized version of a true tale.  Dick Turpin was a highwayman in England and pursued on a long ride to London.  The rest of the story is kind of vague but I'm still researching.

The story of California Joe is true.  While romanticized in this telling the basic facts are there and I won't sully the songs with the less virtuous information I found about this scout.  Someday, I'm going to write a novel based loosely on this song.  It always tugged at my heart.  When it comes to music,  I am a romantic.  I just never seemed to be able to extend it to any other part of my life.

California Joe

Now mates I don't like stories
Nor am I going to act
A part around this camp fire
That's not a truthful fact
So fill your pipes and listen
I'll tell you let me see
I believe it was in fifty
From then to sixty-three.

You've all heard tell of Bridger
I used to ride with Jim.
And many a hard day's scouting
I've done by the side of him.
Well once near old Fort Reno
A trapper used to dwell
We called him old Pap Reynolds
The scouts all knew him well

One night in the spring of fifty
We camped on Powder River
We killed a calf of buffalo
And cooked a slice of liver
While eating well contented
WE heard three shots or four
Put out the fires and listened
We heard a dozen more.

We both knew old Pap Reynolds
Had moved his traps up here
So picking up our rifles
And fixing on our gear
We moved as quick as lightning
To save was our desire.
Too late the painted heathens (please no offended PC comments... this is from the 1800's)
Had set the house on fire.

We unhitched our horses quickly
And waded up the stream
While close beside the water's edge
I heard a muffled scream
And there among the bushes
A little girl did lie
I picked her up and whispered
I'll save you or I'll die.

Lord, what a ride Ol' Bridger
Had covered our retreat
Sometimes the child would murmur
In voices low and sweet
Poor papa God will take him
To mama up above
There's no one left to love me
There's no one left to love.

The little girl was thirteen
And I was twenty-two
Said I, I'll be your papa
And love you just as true.
She nestled in my arms there
Her hazel eyes so bright.
Looked up and made me happy
Though close pursued that night.

One month had flown and Maggie
WE called her hazel eyes
In truth was going to leave me
Was going to say goodbye
Her uncle Matt Jack Reynolds
Reported long since dead
Had come to claim my angel
His brother's child he said.

What could I say, we parted.
Matt Jack was growing old.
I handed him a bank note
And all I had in gold.
They rode away at sunrise.
I went a mile or two,
In parting said, "we'll meet again
"May God watch over you."

Thirteen years later

"...But when he reached the prairie..."  plink plinkle plink   "... he found a new made mound..."  thum thum ting thum  "...His friends they sadly told him.."  plink plinkle plink  "... they'd laid his sweetheart down."  thum thumble thum thum.

I rarely heard a "strum".  Dad was a picker.  He always had guitar picks but never seemed to use them.  We'd all sit around the room, drinking our beverage of choice.  Coffee for mom, iced tea for Aunt Marilyn, Lucky beer for Uncle Lon, and I usually enjoyed a can of generic Alpha Beta soda.   I'd also try to figure out the puzzles in the  Lucky beer cap.  I loved those beer caps.  Uncle Lon kept a jar of them handy for anyone to solve.

"... your sweetheart waits fo-or you.  O-out on the lonely pra-irie.  Where skies are al-ways blue."  thum thumble thum thum.

The room is silent.  The last strains of the beautiful bittersweet ballad hangs in the air plaintively.  Finally, someone breaks the silence as dad takes a sip of his drink.  Maybe it's a beer, often it's coffee.  I liked it when it was whisky.  It usually meant that dad might sing a bit longer and maybe be willing to do one of my personal favorites, California Joe.  "John, will you do The Ship?"  It's Uncle Lon.  I could have gone to the bathroom and back and not heard the question but I'd know who asked when I heard the first strains.  Uncle Lon loves that song. 

There is a ship

And she sails the sea.

She's loaded deep

As deep can be.

But not as deep

As this love I'm in.

I know not if

I sink or swim...

He picked the notes identically to how Peter Paul and Mary do.  His voice, a mellow but strong voice reminds me of Jim Reeves without the twang.  I loved hearing his voice.  I  never felt more loved, secure, and at home than when dad sang.

"... no other love but you."

*btw... the beer cap puzzle is, "When it's springtime in the Rockies".  Appropriate for this post don'tcha think?*

Click HERE for more bottle cap fun!