The waves that took my father’s ship left us a desperate house

Twas more than mother could hope to do to fill three empty mouths

My brother, he was too young to part, my sister was too dear

It fell on me to play the man, and I in my sixth year.

My mother said, “It won’t be far, twill be just for a while.

Be good, be strong, and say your prayers, just like on dear Wight Isle.”

She packed my clothes and my Testament, I put aside my toys

And knocked upon the doorway of Barnardo’s Home for Boys.

    How little did my mother know

    When she begged me, “Fred, don’t cry,”

    The waves would carry me off as well

    That this was our goodbye.

Those lonely months on the mainland, my home and friends I missed

Until the day I found my name at the head of the Canada list

I’d go across the ocean wide to be a farmer’s ward

And sell my small hands’ labour for my schooling, bed, and board.

They brought me pen and paper the morning that I sailed

My news and my fondest wishes to family then were mailed

With a trunk and blessing for each of us, we queued up at the dawn

To board that good ship’s steerage, and set off for Saint John.

    How little did my mother know

    When she led me from her door

    My fortune lay in Canada

    I’d ne’er see England more.

We rode the train to Toronto town, amazed by miles of trees

The farmers came from all around to pick what boy they’d please

I went to a St. Thomas farm, where I spent some decent years

Until my boss sold off his land, left me with nought but tears.

My next boss lived in Utterson, George Truesetter by name

I worked like hell to earn my keep, but got his belt and blame

His children all went off to school, but I was left behind

The cows and pigs I tended were the best friends I could find.

    How little did my mother know

    When she gave me to their care

    The lands that I would travel in

    The burdens I would bear.

As soon as I was old enough I took my clothes and pay

And married sweet little Alice Greer, one bright and blessed day

We built a house on her parents’ land, right here by Skeleton Lake

We cleared the trees and bred the stock for all our children’s sake.

My boys work hard and do their share, but I won’t let them miss school

My girls will never be lone or shamed, though they don’t know wealth or jewel

And as for me and my Alice, well, we’re better off than then

These walls are humble but they’re my own, I’ll never leave again.

Chords: (4/4)

     G                  C                 G     D         G

The waves that took my father’s ship left us a desperate house

      G                      C      G      Em        Am     C

Twas more than mother could hope to do to fill three empty mouths

     G                  C        G       Em     Am       C

My brother, he was too young to part, my sister was too dear

    G             C                G    D         G

It fell on me to play the man, and I in my sixth year.

(The chorus repeats the melody and chords of the second half of the verse).

Fred Shortt was the great-grandfather of a friend on mine; his life story was related to me by his son via my friend and her father. I was pleased to be able to get a recording to the grandfather (Fred's son) shortly before his death.

I have a special affection for this song as it was the first of the current generation of songs I'm writing, i.e., based in true history and drawing on traditional motifs and melodies.

There is a good online article here about the Barnardo homes and the child migration movement.