His Masters Voice
Now, Robert Service was as much of a story teller as he was a poet. In the following ballad, as Service often does, he writes in dialect. Although this makes for a difficult recital it also brings an unique first person delivery to his stories. Of course the misspellings are intentional, and for a change not are not due to the ineptness of this editor.
Editors note- Warning to the reader . . . The slang in this Service selection shows racial stereotypes of Native Americans. While reading it keep in mind the period it was written in. Use of racial stereotyping in writing is covered in an article by Peter Berryman, click here to go to that article.
The Gramaphone At Fond-Du-lac
Robert W. Service
Rhymes of A Rolling Stone, Published 1912
Now Eddie Malone got a swell grammyfone to draw all the trade to his store;
An' he sez he: "Come along for a season of spring which the like ye had niver before."
Then Dogrib, an' Slave, and Yellow-Knife brave, an' Cree in his dinky canoe,
Confluated near, to see an' to hear Ed's grammyfone make its dayboo.
Then Ed turned the crank, an' there on the bank they squatted like bumps on a log.
For Acres around there wasn't a song, not even the howl of a dog.
When out of the horn there sudden was born such a marvelous elegant tone;
An then like a spell on that auddyence fell the voice of its first grammyfone.
Bad medicine!! cried Old Tom, the One-eyed, an made for to jump in the lake;
But no one gave heed to his little stampede, so he guessed he had made a mistake.
Then Roll-in-the-mud, a chief of the blood, observed in choice Chippewayan:
"You've brought us canned beef, an' it's now my belief that this here's a case of 'canned man."
Well though I'm not strong on the Dago in song, that sure got me goin' for fair.
There was Crusoe an' Scotty, and Ma'am, Shoeman Hank, an' Melber an Bonchy was there.
"Twas silver an' gold, an' sweetness untold to hear all them big guinneys sing;
An' thick all around an' inhalin' the sound, them Indians formed a ring.
So solemn they sat, an' they smoked an' they spat, but their eyes sort o' glistened an' shone;
Yet niver a word of approvin' occurred till that guy Harry Lauder came on.
Then hunter of moose, an' squaw an' papoose jest laughed till their stummicks was sore;
Six times Eddie set back that record an' yet they hollered an' hollered for more.
I'll never forget that frame up, you bet, them caverns of sunset agleam;
Them still peaks aglow, them shadders below, an' the lake like a petrified dream;
The teepees that stood by the edge of the wood; the evenin' star blinkin' alone;
The peace an' the rest, an' final an' best, the music of Ed's grammyfone.
Then sudden an' clear there rang on my ear a song mighty simple an' old;
Heart-hungry an' high it thrilled to the sky, all about "silver threads in the gold."
"Twas tender to tears, an' it brung back the years, the mem'ries that hallow an' yearn;
'Twas home-lovin'' joy, 'twas the thought of my boy...an' right there I vowed I'd return.
Big four-finger Jack was right at my back, an I saw with a kind o' surprise,
He gazed at the lake with a heartful of ache, an' the tears irrigated his eyes.
An' sez he: Cuss me, pard! but that there hits me hard, I've a mother does nuthin' but wait.
"She's turned eighty-three, an' she's only got me, an' I'm scared it'll soon be to late."
On Fond-du-lac's shore I'm hearin' once more that blessed old grammyfone play.
The summer's all gone, an' I'm still livin' on in the same old haphazardous way.
Oh, I cut out the booze an' with muscles an' thews I corralled all the coin to go back;
But it wasn't to be: he'd a mother, you see, so I- slipped it to four-finger Jack
So solemn they sat, an' they smoked an' they spat, but their eyes sort o' glistened an' shone;
Yet niver a word of approvin' occurred till that guy Harry Lauder came on.
Sir Harry Lauder was one of the greatest Vaudevillians ever to grace a stage. His hilarious songs and sketches brought down houses both in his native Scotland as well as America. Not only did Sir Harry command large audiences on stage but thousands enjoyed his comedy via recorded song. Such hits as "I Love A Lassie", Roamin' In The Gloamin'" and "just A Wee Doeoch an a Doris" entertained the masses in the comfort of their parlors.
A tireless performer during World War I Harry Lauder entertained troops and raised money for the war effort. In 1918 his own son, Captain John Lauder died in service to his country. For his work Lauder was knighted in 1919 .Lauder's first performance was in 1882 and his last was in 1949, a career that spanned 67 years. Sir Harry's recordings highly collectible and his comedic patter still amuses.
*****To Hear Harry Lauder or Order A Cassette Of His Music Click On the gramaphone
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