Celebrating the songs of the Erie Canal

In 1825, the Erie Canal was completed and became the first travelable waterway between the Great Lakes and the Atlantic Ocean. Naturally, business from the canal propelled New York state into an economic powerhouse, and the faster, new route west opened new possibilities for Americans looking for adventure. And from such a magnanimous change in transportation and migration patterns, a certain canal culture emerged.

It was a tranquil waterway of inching packet boats and unassuming landscapes: beautiful, but for a long time. Boredom and inspiration collided in songs, poetry, and art, all of which provide a special perspective on the canal’s glory days. Sourced from books published by Syracuse University Press – including Lionel D. Wyld’s Low Bridge! Folklore and the Erie Canal (1962), Roger W. Hecht’s The Erie Canal Reader, 1790-1950 (2002), and Richard Garrity’s Canal Boatman: My Life on Upstate Waterways (1977) – this collection of creative works highlights the craving for entertainment during canal journeys and the talent required to fill that void.

LOW BRIDGE! EVERYBODY DOWN or Fifteen Years on The Erie Canal pg 104-106

Written by Thomas S. Allen, “Low Bridge! Everybody Down” is part of the larger musical tradition of Tin Pan Alley – the popular vaudeville-style music around the turn of the 20^th century. In this folk song, a canaler navigates the endless waters of the Erie while profusely and creatively praising his mule, Sal.

I’ve got an old mule and her name is Sal,
Fifteen years on the Erie Canal.
She’s a good old worker and a good old pal,
Fifteen years on the Erie Canal.
We’ve hauled some barges in our day,
Filled with lumber, coal and hay,
And ev’ry inch of the way I know,
From Albany to Buffalo.

Chorus:
Low bridge, ev’rybody down,
Low bridge, we must be getting near a town,
You can always tell your neighbor,
You can always tell your pal,
If he’s ever navigated on the Erie Canal.

Low bridge, ev’rybody down,
Low bridge, I’ve got the finest mule in town,
Once a man named Mike McGinty
Tried to put it over Sal,
Now he’s ‘way down at the bottom of the Erie Canal.

We’d better look ‘round for a job old gal,
Fifteen years on the Erie Canal
You bet your life I wouldn’t part with Sal
Fifteen years on the Erie Canal.
Giddap there gal we’ve passed that lock,
We’ll make Rome ‘fore six o’clock.
So one more trip and then we’ll go,
Right straight back to Buffalo.

Come all ye Yankee famers who wished to change your lot,
Who’ve spunk enough to travel beyond your native spot,
And leave behind the village where Pa and Ma do stay,
Come follow me, and settle in Michigania –
Yea, yea, yea, in Michigania.

Then there’s the State of New York where some are very rich,
Themselves and a few others have dug a mighty ditch,
To render it more easy for use to find the way
And sail upon the waters to Michigania –
Yea, yea, yea, to Michigania.

Canawler, Canawler pg 83

Not all canal tunes were cheerful or well-intentioned – some songs, like “Canawler, Canawler,” were derogatory, classist, and sung at canalers at work.

Version 1:
Canawlers, Canawlers, you’ll never get rich;
You work on Sunday and you die in the ditch.

Version 2:
Canawler – Canawler
You son of a bitch
You’ll die on the towpath
You’ll be buried in the ditch
Canawler – Canawler
You work on Sunday
You’ll never get rich.

Black Rock Pork pg 98

A common diet aboard a canal boat included “Black Rock” pork –  similar to the western cowboy’s jerky. It wasn’t all that tasty or popular, as the short song “Black Rock Pork” suggests, but it was another thing for canalers to sing about.

I shipped aboard of a lumber-boat,
Her name was Charles O’Rourke.
The very first thing they rolled aboard
Was a barrel of Black Rock pork.

They fried a chunk for breakfast,
And a chunk for luncheon too.
It didn’t taste so goody-good,
And it was hard to chew.

From Buffalo to old New York
They fed it to dear-old-me;
They boiled the barrel and rest of the work,
And we had it all for tea.

CANALMAN’S FAREWELL pg 98

Despite the challenges and stigma attached to a canaler’s work, ultimately the love for life on the Erie Canal triumphed. In “Canalman’s Farewell,” a driver imagines his final moments – aboard his boat and, surrounded by hallmarks of a life on Erie’s waters.

When I die, lay me on a canal boat
With my feet toward the bow:
Let it be a Lockport Laker
Or a Tonawanda scow.
Put forty pounds of Black Rock pork
Upon my brawny breast,
And telephone over to the cook
The driver’s gone to rest.