“Fill up the basket, Mary,
Just pack it full, I say;
Don’t think o’
bein’ sparin’,
Fur this is picnic day.
Round up the flock
o’ youngsters,
Don’t let one get astray;
Let’s take along
a-plenty,
Fur this is picninc day.
Picnic Song
I.
O.
the picnics in the country, like the kind we used to know!
On
the hill just outside o’ Gungy where the neighborhood would go;
When
the cornet band would muster on the village Green and play,
With
their shiny, brassy instruments an’ uniforms uv gray.
Ev’ry
buddy wuz excited, ev’ry buddy feelin’ fine,
There
wuz freedom an’ expectancy all up an’ down the line.
All
the girls were dressed in colors an’ they looed so temptin’, my!
Ev’ry
feller wuz just itchin’ fur the dancin’ by an’ by.
II.
Then
the band would strike u “georgy”, an they’d form us into line,
An’
we’d march up through the village feelin’ mighty pert an’ fine;
There
wuz men an’ dogs an’ hosses, there wuz women, girls an’ boys,
With
a string uv baby carriages to help the picnic joys.
Up
the hill with pomp an’ grandeur, would the picnic party wind
To
the grove uv beech an’ maple, with the laggards fur behind;
Then
the crowd would break an’ scatter, huntin’ quarters fur the day,
While
the band would play with gusto, “Cheer Up Comdrades an’ Be Gay!”
III.
How
I wished I wuz a band man with brass buttons on my coat!
With
some gold braid down my trouser an’ some more around my throat,
With
the girls’ admirin’ glances when they saw me passin’ by –
Then
I swore I’d be a bandman or I’d know the reason why.
O,
the tables fur the goodies, an’ the colored lemonade;
Ev’ry
boy wuz allus thirsty though ‘twas cool beneath the shade.
Though
our parents made objections some, I couldn’t help but think
Thet
the best uv Gungy picnics wuz the stuff to eat an’ drink.
IV.
O,
the dinner ‘neath the beeches on a Gungy picnic Day!
(I
kin taste them basket goodies though it’s twenty years away)
O,
the luscious beans an’ pickles, an’ the sandwiches uv meat,
An’
the pies an’ cakes an’ doughnuts, an’ the other things to eat!
We
wuz hungry e young foxes, fur we’d climbed the spreadin’ trees,
We
hed raced acrost the woodland like a hive uv swarmin’ bees;
We
hed played at games, been swimmin’ in the Crick jet out o’ sight,
All
uv which, you kin imagine, made a monstrous appetite!
V.
In
the afternoon the dancin’ with the fiddles playin’ sweet
With
the fairest Gungy maidens, light uv heart an’ light uv feet.
How
the platform bent an’ quavered ez they swept across the square
To
the lead uv Stoky’s fiddle an’ the other fellers there!
Now
an’ then the band would gather playin’ pieces we all knew
An’
we’d join the brassy chorus doin’ all thet we could do;
They
could hit off “Yankee Doodle”, “Ol’ Black Joe”, an’ “Nelle Gray” –
O,
the Gungy band wuz in it on a Gungy Picnic day!
VI.
Ol’
Bill Jones he hed a counter sellin’ penuts, lemonade,
An’
the Sewin’ circle also, fur the fancy things they’d made;
Parson
Barlow held a service which warn’t tended very well –
Ev’ryone
wuz awful busy somehow through the preachin’ spell.
Then
‘twuz time fur chores an’ sech like – an’ the babies they got cross;
An’
twuz time to “gether fragments” so there wouldn’t be no loss;
Then
the march back to the village warn’t so spirited, I ween,
But
we bade a happy farewell to the neighbors on the green.
“O, never mind the
trouble,
It’s good to git away;
The baskets they
are empty
On Gungy picnic day.
The babes are tired
a’ sleepy
The horse begins to neigh;
What though the
cows are looin’
We’ve hed our picnic day!
July
7, 1911
Joe
Cone was the founder of the Moodus Cornet
Band in East Haddam, CT. The following is a clip about one of their
performances in a similar setting in the Johnsonville section of town in July,
1902:
Fibre
and Fabric – A Record of American Textile Industries in the Cotton and Woolen
Trade, Vol. 35, Saturday, July 26, 1902 p. 278-279, ‘The Neptune Mill’
“Cheer up comrades and
be gay!”
- "Tramp! Tramp! Tramp! (The
Prisoner's Hope)" was one of the most popular songs of the American Civil
War. George F. Root wrote both the words and music and published it
in 1864 to give hope to the Union prisoners of war. The song is written
from the prisoner's point of view. The chorus tells his fellow prisoners that
hope is coming.
First Verse:
In the prison cell I
sit,
Thinking Mother dear, of
you,
And our bright and happy
home so far away,
And the tears they fill
my eyes
Spite of all that I can
do,
Tho' I try to cheer my
comrades and be gay.
Chorus:
Tramp, tramp, tramp, the
boys are marching,
Cheer up comrades they
will come,
And beneath the starry
flag
We shall breathe the air
again,
Of the freeland in our
own beloved home.
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