(upbeat music) (projector clicking) - Have you ever wondered where the television signal you're watching is coming from?

♪ I love to go a wanderin' (projector clicking) ♪ along the mountain track - Welcome to True North.

(upbeat music) (mysterious music) - Good evening and welcome to Mainewatch (upbeat music) (projector clicking) Welcome to From The Vault, a celebration of 60 years of Maine Public Television.

Over the decades, Maine Public has recorded many performances by some of our state's best storytellers.

So in this episode, we will bring you a couple more of those, one of which has not been seen in over 30 years.

First up we will travel to 1977 for an episode of the music series Shivaree.

This one features Kendall Morse and Marshall Dodge with some classic tales and songs.

Then we will go to 1988 for an excerpt from the 1987 edition of the Maine Storytellers Festival from Rockport.

This was part of a 90 minute special hosted by John MacDonald, another of Maine's legendary storytellers.

He, along with Tim Sample and Joe Perham, performed in, what was, the second annual festival.

But we are going to feature the last 30 minutes, which was Kendall Morse performing his solo show.

We'll bring you that first hour in a future program of From The Vault.

Now have a beverage handy because you are in for some wicked dry humor, chummy.

Let's start back in 1977 with Shivaree.

( chimes) (folk music) (crowd applauding) - Sun comes up and sun goes down, hands on the clock keep going around.

You just get up and it's time to lay down.

Life gets tedious, don't it?

I open the door and the flies swarm in.

I shut the door and I'm sweating again.

Move too fast and crack my shins.

Just one damn thing after another.

Tin roof leaks and the chimney leans and there's a hole in the seat of my old blue jeans.

I've got the last of the pork and beans.

Just can't depend on nothing.

Shoes untied, but I don't care.

I ain't figuring on going nowhere.

I'd have to wash and comb my hair.

That's just wasted effort.

Hound dog howling, so forlorn.

The laziest dog that ever was born.

He's howling 'cause he's sitting on a thorn.

He's just too tired to move over.

My old brown mule, he must be sick.

I jabbed him in the rump with a pin on a stick.

He humped his back, but he didn't kick.

There's something cockeyed somewhere.

There's a mouse charring on the pantry door.

He's been at it now for a month or more.

When he gets through, he's gonna be sore, because ain't a damn thing in there.

Water in the well's getting lower and lower.

Can't take a bath for six months or more.

I've heard it said it's true I'm sure that too much bathing will weaken you.

Cows gone dry and my hens won't lay and the fish quit biting last Saturday.

Troubles piling up day by day.

Now I'm getting dandruff.

Grief and misery, pain and woe, death and taxes, so it goes.

Now I'm catching cold in my nose.

Life gets tasteless, don't it?

(audience applauds) - Farmer, I've been driving up this hill for three hours.

Isn't there any end to it?

- Oh, hell stranger, there ain't no hill here.

You just lost your two hind wheels.

- I'm going to Portland.

- Well go right ahead, I ain't stopping you.

- Well, can I take this road to Portland?

- Well you can, but they got more than enough roads down in Portland than they need.

- There's a sign beside the road, one arrow points to Portland to the right and the other points to Portland to the left.

Does it make any difference which road I take?

- Not to me it don't - Well, how far is it to Portland?

- Oh, it seems further than it is but you'll find out it ain't.

- How many miles is it to Portland?

- About 30,000 the way you're headed and there's stretches a mighty wet wheeling.

- Well, how do I get to Portland?

I've gotta get there before sundown.

Can't you give me any ideas to how to get there?

- Oh, you wanna get to Portland?

Why didn't you say so?

What you do is you get down this road for about 15, 30 miles or such a matter, changes the dirt now and again, but you stay right on this road.

Down there are ways you're gonna come to a blueberry factory on the right and you turn left about two miles before you get to that factory.

Then you turn right again at the first intersection then you turn left two more times, just this side of where the old church used to be.

You come to a fork in the road.

Now let me see.

You know, I can't for the life of me remember which one of them roads goes to Portland, but by the time you get there, you're gonna be so damn lost that it won't matter anyway.

- Well, can you tell me how come, for what reason those cows don't have any horns over there?

- Well, there's a lot of reasons why cows don't have horns.

Sometimes they get diseased and they fall off and sometimes you have to cut 'em off so they don't hook the other cattle.

But the reason that particular animal doesn't have any horns is because it's a horse.

- Well, I see that you got an awful lot of rocks in that pasture.

Where'd you get all those rocks?

- Well, they tell me the glaciers brought 'em - [Dodge] Glaciers?

Well, I don't see any glaciers.

What is this glacier talking about?

Where is it?

- Well, he's gone back for more rocks, I guess.

- Well now are those the rocks that stove up your wagon wheel over there I see?

- Well, those are the rocks.

I didn't do that, the highway man did.

- Is he the same fellow who ruined your daughter?

- Yeah.

- Clumsy, aint he?

Frost, you asked me if I had any frost at my place this morning.

Well, this morning I woke up about five o'clock.

Ain't never been a lay in bed in the Perkins family for as long as anyone can remember.

And I jumped into my pants and pulled on my boots and headed down over them stairs of mine.

Down them stairs, I don't want none of them steep narrow stairs where you break your neck going up and down them like a ladder.

My stairs have got 12 inch treads and only five inch risers.

And you don't wear no holler in the middle them stairs neither 'cause they're made out a solid Oak and alongside them stairs, it got me a red cherry banister at the foot, a new post made out a curly ash and the combination of red cherry and curly ash is awful nice in the early morning light.

At the foot of them stairs I got me a sitting room and over in the corner of that sitting room I got me a red plush sofi and at the head of it a standing lamp with a circle burner and a cream colored globe and I don't think nothing will lying on that sofi Thursdays, when the Clarion comes out, just to read until almost 8:30, before I go to bed and I head through my dining room and I got Wayne Scott all around that dining room made out of butter, not wood, but gosh it just gives you an appetite to look at it.

And I went into the kitchen and I got myself a big black clarion stove in the center of that kitchen.

And it's got five or six controls onto it and takes more than a teaspoon full of brains to operate, but maybe that's why there ain't so many of them stoves around today.

I can cook five dishes on that stove all at once and cook 'em just right.

In the back on the left, that's the hottest part of the stove.

And that's where I simmer steaks and a little further forward on the left, that's where I make soups by boiling bones.

And way up front is the waiting area where the pork waits for the beans and the butter waits for the clams and over on the right, that's the thawing part of the stove where I thaw out the Shellac for spring painting And now up above that stove, I got me some cabinets built right into it and that's where most folks keep the salt and pepper to keep 'em dry and that's where I shove my bills and let 'em age for two or three months.

Well then I headed out toward my privy.

Now I always say that a fellow who ain't regular in his habits ain't going to amount to a hill of beans.

And if you're going to be regular, you got to have your privy built just right.

It ought to be quartered into the wind cause it makes a might sight a difference with the draft that comes up through the holes.

And if you're going to have a well built privy you got to have the seat just right.

It ought to be sanded down with real fine sandpaper, should be made out of boxwood, because you don't get no cracks in boxwood.

They can be quite startling.

Well, after I got through the privy I headed out toward my cow pasture and now the Lord giveth and He taketh away but my cows taketh and give back fivefold.

I opened up the gate, let a cow out.

And I happened looked down on the ground and there on the grass was just a little might of frost.

(audience applauding) (guitar playing) ♪ As I sat down one evening within a small cafe ♪ ♪ A 40 year old waitress do me these words did say ♪ ♪ I see that you are a logger ♪ And not just a common bum ♪ For nobody but a logger stirs his coffee with his thumb ♪ ♪ My lover was a logger ♪ There's none like him today ♪ If you'd pour whiskey on it ♪ He would eat a bale of hay ♪ He never shave the whiskeys off of his hardy hide ♪ ♪ He'd drive them in with a hammer ♪ ♪ Then bite them off inside ♪ My lover came to see me on one freezing day ♪ ♪ He held me in a fond embrace ♪ That broke three vertebra ♪ He kissed me when we parted so hard that he broke my jaw ♪ ♪ I couldn't speak to tell him he forgot his Mackinac ♪ ♪ I saw my lover leaving sauntering through the snow ♪ ♪ Going bravely homeward at 48 below ♪ ♪ The weather, it tried to freeze him ♪ ♪ It tried its level best ♪ At a hundred degrees below zero ♪ ♪ He buttoned up his vest ♪ It froze clean through to China ♪ ♪ It froze to the stars above ♪ At a thousand degrees below zero ♪ ♪ It froze my logger love ♪ They tried in vain to thaw him ♪ ♪ Not a muscle could they stir ♪ So they made him into ax blades ♪ ♪ To chop another fir ♪ And so I lost my lover and to this cafe I come ♪ ♪ And here I wait until someone ♪ ♪ Stirs his coffee with his thumb ♪ (audience applauds) - You remember that stuff they put in our food back during World War I to keep our minds off the women?

- What was it?

I can't remember.

- I don't either, but it's starting to work.

- You know, I've been losing my powers too.

'Course, my wife don't help much.

She's some ugly.

God, her eyes is crossed.

They are so crossed that when she cries, the tears run down her back.

- Well, I don't know if that's worse than my problem or not.

My wife is so skinny you wouldn't believe it.

I remember back before we was married, she was so skinny back then that one time she swallowed a prune pit and three guys left town.

- That's some skinny.

- Well, that's not the worst of it, now she's ugly too.

In fact, she's so damn difficult.

I take her everywhere I go 'cause I'd rather do that than kiss her goodbye.

- Well, it's got so now that my wife is so ugly that I got to feed her with a sling shot.

- Last summer in Portland at a bus stop, the bus pulled up to the curb and stopped.

And there was a fellow from New York standing there on the sidewalk.

He had a Great Dane dog with him.

The bus driver looked at him and he looked at the dog.

He says, "You can't bring that dog on this bus, you know?"

Well the fellow of course he got defensive about his dog and he said, "Huh, guess you know what you can do with your bus."

Bus driver says, "Yeah, if you can do the same thing with your dog, you can get on."

This may take some coaxing to get this thing in gear.

(guitar playing) ♪ I had a horse and his name was Bill ♪ ♪ And when he ran, he didn't stand still ♪ ♪ He ran away one day and I ran with him ♪ ♪ He ran so fast he couldn't stop ♪ ♪ He ran into a barbershop ♪ Fell exhaustionized with his eye teeth ♪ ♪ In the barber's left shoulder ♪ ♪ I had a gal and her name was Daisy ♪ And when she sang the cat went crazy ♪ With deliriums St. Vituses ♪ And all kinds of cataleptics ♪ One day she sang a song about ♪ ♪ A man who turned himself inside out ♪ ♪ And jumped into the river ♪ He was so thirsty ♪ I went up in a balloon today ♪ The people on the earth, they looked like a pig ♪ ♪ Like a mouse, like a caddydid ♪ ♪ And also like little people ♪ The balloon turned up with its bottom side high ♪ ♪ Fell on the wife of a country squire ♪ ♪ She made a noise like a dog hound, like a steam whistle ♪ ♪ And dynamite ♪ I'm going out in the woods next year ♪ ♪ And hunt for beer and not for deer ♪ ♪ Well I am, well I ain't ♪ I'm a great sharpshootress ♪ At shooting birds I am a beaut ♪ ♪ There is no bird I cannot shoot ♪ ♪ In the eye, in the ear, in his tail ♪ ♪ Or fingernails ♪ In the Frisco bay there lives whale ♪ ♪ And she eat pork chops by the pale ♪ ♪ By the hatful, by the bucketful, by the hog's head ♪ ♪ And schooner ♪ She likes to laugh and when she smiles ♪ ♪ You can teeth for miles and miles ♪ ♪ And tonsils and spare ribs ♪ And things too fierce to mention ♪ ♪ What can you do in a case like that ♪ ♪ What can you do but stomp on your hat ♪ ♪ And your grandmother and your toothbrush ♪ ♪ And everything else that's helpless ♪ (audience applauds) - Kendall, I understand that you're burying your Pa. - I got to, he's dead.

- They say he was a self-made man.

- [Morse] Well, if he was, it sure relieves the Almighty of a terrible amount of responsibility.

- Aren't you afraid that you're digging that grave a little too shallow, Kendall?

- No, not really.

He ain't ever gonna get out of it.

- Well, how come they didn't build a fence around this graveyard?

- Well, no point building a fence around them.

What's inside ain't getting out of there and then what's outside is in no hurry to get in.

- Have you ever had it that they didn't pay you for digging a grave?

- They pay or up he comes - [Dodge] Kendall, what's the death rate around here.

- Well, one to a person.

Now you've been asking a lot of questions.

I'd like to ask you one.

How old are you anyway?

- 95.

- Hell, don't hardly pay you to make the trip back to town.

- Never forget that time when I was raking leaves on one of them cold raw foggy days you get along the coast of Maine.

Mr. Smith come out and asked me if I'd like to come in and get warmed up with a fire and have little something to drink.

"Well," I said Mr. Smith, "I'd like first rate to get warm but I'll not have anything to drink."

I haven't had anything to drink for over 35 years but I recollect just like it was yesterday that last time I partook of spirits.

I was building boats in them days and I was also building coffins.

I built most of the coffins that them folks are buried in up on the hill.

And I just finished a cat boat for Henry Fenris.

But when Charlie Pierce come down, he run the general store and did the undertaking on the side, and he said, "I got to have me a coffin by Thursday."

I said, "It's awful short notice Charlie."

He said, "I know it is, so I brung you down a jug of Barbados rum.

Well, I didn't spare myself none, nor may I say did I spare that rum And Wednesday night I went to bed feeling pretty good and proud of a job well done.

In the morning, Charlie come over and I showed him out to the shed and I noticed he started some as we walked in through that shed door and there that coffin stood and it had a rudder and a center board on it.

(audience applauds) (guitar playing) ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar like true Newfoundlanders ♪ ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar on deck and below ♪ ♪ Until we see bottom inside the two sunkers ♪ ♪ Straight through the channel to Toslow we'll go ♪ ♪ My name it is Robert, they call me Bob Pittman ♪ ♪ I sailed on the Ino with Skipper Joe Brown ♪ ♪ lm bound to have Polly or Biddy or Molly ♪ ♪ As soon as I'm able to plank the cash down ♪ ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar like true Newfoundlanders ♪ ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar on deck and below ♪ ♪ Until we see bottom inside the two sunkers ♪ ♪ Straight through the channel to Toslow we'll go ♪ ♪ I'm a son of a sea cook, I'm a cook and a trader ♪ ♪ I can dance, I can sing, I can reef the main boom ♪ ♪ I can handle a jigger, I cuts a fine figure ♪ ♪ Whenever I gets in a boat's standing room ♪ ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar like true Newfoundlanders ♪ ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar on deck and below ♪ ♪ Until we see bottom inside the two sunkers ♪ ♪ Straight through the channel to Toslow we'll go ♪ ♪ If the voyage is good, then this fall I will make it ♪ ♪ I wants two pound ten for a ring and the priest ♪ ♪ A couple o' dollars for clean shirt and collars ♪ ♪ A handful of coppers to make up a feast ♪ ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar like true Newfoundlanders ♪ ♪ We'll rant and we'll roar on deck and below ♪ ♪ Until we see bottom inside the two sunkers ♪ ♪ Straight through the channel to Toslow we'll go ♪ (audience applauds) - Thanks for meeting me at the station here, Dodge.

I've been gone a couple of weeks.

Tell me, is any news since I've been gone?

- No, sir.

There's been no news.

But since you mentioned it, it don't amount to much.

Since you've been away, your dog died.

- My dog died?

What happened to my dog?

- Well, sir, he ate some of the burnt horse flesh and that's what killed the dog.

- Burnt horse flesh?

Where do you get ahold of burnt horse flesh?

- Well sir, when the fire cooled down, the dog went to eat some of the burnt horse flesh and that's what killed the dog.

- What fire?

What are you talking about?

- Well, the barn burned down, burned up all the cows and the horses.

And when the fire cooled off, the dog went to eat some of the burnt horse flesh and that's what killed the dog.

- What happened to the barn?

How'd the barn burn down?

- Well, so the sparks from the house, they flew over and went on the barn roof, burned up all the cows and horses.

When the fire cooled off, the dog went to eat some of the burned horse flesh.

And that's what killed the dog.

- The sparks from the house?

What happened to my house?

- Well, so that burned down completely.

- How did the house burn down?

- Well, the flames from the candles lit on to the roof and then the sparks from the roof went over and lit on to the barn, burned up all the cows and horses.

When the five cooled off, the dog went and ate some of the burnt horse flesh.

And that's what killed the dog - The candles?

How come you had candles?

We got electricity.

- They was around the coffin.

- Oh my God.

Who died?

- Oh, you needn't more about that, sir Your mother-in-law died.

- My mother-in-law.

What happened to her?

- Well, people say that she died from the shock of your wife running away with the stable boy.

But aside from that, sir, there ain't no news.

(audience applauds) (guitar playing) ♪ Did you ever hear of the burglar bold ♪ ♪ Who went to rob a house ♪ He goes and hikes the window, as quiet as a mouse ♪ ♪ He goes and hikes the window ♪ While the people were asleep ♪ All the money that he could find ♪ ♪ Was under the bed that creaked ♪ ♪ The burglar, he crept under the bed ♪ ♪ And he kept quite lose to the wall ♪ ♪ If he had know it was an Old Maid's room ♪ ♪ He'd had never have had the gall ♪ ♪ 'Bout nine o'clock, the Old Maid came in ♪ ♪ How tired I am, she said.

♪ Thinking that everything was all right ♪ ♪ She never looked under the bed ♪ ♪ She took out her teeth and her big glass eye ♪ ♪ And the wig from the top of her head ♪ ♪ The burglar he had 17 kinds of fits ♪ ♪ As he peeked from under the bed ♪ ♪ From under the bed, the burglar crawled ♪ ♪ He was a total wreck ♪ The Old Maid jumped out of bed ♪ ♪ And grabbed him around the neck ♪ ♪ The Old Maid never fainted away ♪ ♪ But just as cool as a clam ♪ Said, I've been a maid for 50 years ♪ ♪ Now I've found myself a man ♪ A revolver she aimed at the burglar's head ♪ ♪ And these are the words she said ♪ ♪ Now young man you must marry me ♪ ♪ Or I'll blow off the top of your head ♪ ♪ The burglar was looking around the room ♪ ♪ Didn't see no place to scoot ♪ He looked at the wig and the big glass eye ♪ ♪ And he said, for God's sake, shoot ♪ (audience applauds) (folk music) - [Tibbits] Shivaree is a videotaped production of the Maine Public Broadcasting Network.

If you have any suggestions concerning Shivaree or who you'd like to see on the program, please drop us a card at MPBN Box 86, Orono, Maine 04473.

That's Box 86 Orono 04473.

I'm Susan Tibbits, goodnight, and thank you for watching.

Testing, testing, One, two, three.

Can you hear me all right, dear?

Well, if you can, then you are tuned to one of the stations on the Maine Public Broadcasting Network.

Now, on behalf of MPBN I'd like to invite you to join me, Tim Sample, that's me at the Woodfords Congregational Church on November 9th from seven to 9 p.m.. Now they ain't gonna ask you for any money, see it ain't one of them things.

This is one them ideas, one them deals where you get to ask them these questions, you know, that you always wanted to ask like, how come their radio stations don't play any the real good songs like "How can I miss you when you won't go away?"

and "How come you believed me when I told you that I loved you and you know I've been a liar all my life?"

Now, if you're interested in television, this your big chance to ask them all them pertinent questions, like, you know, what kind of toilet water does Alastair Cooke use or which one is MacNeil and which one is Lehrer?

You know, questions like that.

Now, anyways, you make up your own question anything you want, and meet me at Woodfords Congregational Church.

November 9th, it's right in Portland, see any time around 7 p.m. and we're going to have a wicked good time, deah.

Oh, HI!

Oh, you're wondering about this.

No, I'm not listening to Michael Jackson or Madonna.

I'm listening to a tape of last summer's Maine Storytellers Festival up there in Rockport.

Let's see, there was Tim Sample, Joe Perham, Kendall Morse and myself all telling some pretty good downeast stories, if I don't mind saying so myself.

Why don't ya come inside and I'll tell you more about it.

You know, a lot has been said and written over the years about the art of storytelling, but I bet you could say and write a lot about the art of story stealing, too.

Now, our next storyteller has his own ideas about where some of these stories might have come from.

Matter of fact, while I get us some more coffee, why don't you start listening to Captain Kendall Morse - One of the things that I would like to get into a little bit, if possible, is to point out the differences in Maine humor.

Now you think of Maine as one place and on the map it is, but different areas of the state have their own kind of humor, or at least they did a few years ago.

I come from the coast of Maine and Joe Piram is from western Maine and there are people from all over the state.

And we've stolen so many stories from each other that they're all mixed up now, you can't really tell where they come from.

But if you're interested, you can usually tell a coastal Maine story because of its understatement, the way it's understated.

It's kind of British, very constricted, understated, very dry and subtle.

Whereas inland, where they've got all that expense of land, you get into the tall tale, the more expansive type.

And to give you an illustration- Back home we had a fella by the name of John Hubbard and he was the most disagreeable, poisonous, miserable son of a gun you ever met in your life.

Never had a friend.

He alienated everyone and nobody could ever think of anything good to say about him.

There just wasn't anything, he was a total loss.

Well, he died and they had his funeral and the minister was sweatin' buckshot.

'Cause it's his job to stand up there and think of something good to say about the deceased, that's part of the training that they go through.

Well, he couldn't, he just couldn't think of a thing, not even a clergyman.

So finally he said to the congregation, there was a few people that did come to the funeral out of a sense of duty, told 'em, he says, I'm not gonna preach a regular sermon here.

What I would like is for any of his neighbors and friends to come up and say a few words about him.

And then he went and sat down, hoping this was gonna get him off the hook.

But nothing happened, they shifted in their chairs and they coughed and cleared their throats.

There was a lot of nervousness movement, squeaking of chairs, and so forth.

Finally, after about 20 minutes of this total silence that kept getting heavier and heavier, one fella couldn't stand it anymore.

And he stood up and all he said was, "His brother was worse."

(audience laughing) (audience applauding) Now that's typical coastal humor.

Reminded me of the fellow that back home, he wasn't very bright.

He wasn't wrapped very tight, as they say.

He had a room upstairs that wasn't finished.

Well anyway, somehow he got himself a date and he doesn't know what to do.

Apparently she did.

Anyway, somehow she wound up sitting on his lap and he couldn't think of a cussed thing to say, he just didn't have any experience in that line.

And the best he could do, finally, he says, "You know, you sweat the least of any fat person I know."

(audience laughing) Another example of coastal- you're not through with that one yet, are you?

(audience laughing) Of coastal humor is a very traditional and quite old, I'm surprised nobody else has picked it up yet, tonight, anyway, about- There were two old maids who lived back home in Machias, (audience laughing) you've heard it, And the name was Effy and Emma Dunbar.

And they lived on the old family homestead all their lives up to that point.

And they were quite well along in years.

And neither one of them had ever married.

They'd never had a date or anything like that, never had a boyfriend.

Their mother had told 'em some kind horror story about males when they were young and they decided they didn't want anything to do with that sort of thing.

And they were really paranoid about males.

They wouldn't even let the milkman up on the porch, made him leave the milk out by the mailbox.

And they had a female cat for a pet.

And they wouldn't even let the cat out for the same reason, on a smaller scale.

And that went on for years.

And something changed, I don't know what happened, but something, something took a drastic turn and one of them did wind up getting married, very late in life.

Went away on a honeymoon.

Few days later the other one that stayed behind got a postcard.

All it said on it was, "let the cat out."

(audience laughing) (audience applauding) (gentle guitar music) ♪ Did you ever hear of the burglar bold ♪ ♪ Who went to rob a house ♪ He goes and hoists the window ♪ ♪ As quiet as a mouse ♪ He goes and hoists the window ♪ ♪ While the people were asleep ♪ Heard a footstep on the stairs ♪ ♪ And under the bed did creep ♪ The burglar he crept under the bed ♪ ♪ And he kept quite close to the wall ♪ ♪ If he'd have known was an old maid's room ♪ ♪ He'd had never had the gall ♪ 'Bout nine o'clock the maid came in ♪ ♪ How tired I am, she said ♪ Thinking that everything was all right ♪ ♪ She never looked under the bed ♪ ♪ She took out her teeth and a big glass eye ♪ ♪ And the wig from the top of her head ♪ ♪ The burglar had 17 kinds of fits ♪ ♪ As he peeked from under the bed ♪ ♪ From under the bed the burglar crawled ♪ ♪ He was a total wreck ♪ The old maid jumped out of the bed ♪ ♪ And grabbed him around the neck ♪ ♪ The old maid never fainted away ♪ ♪ But just as cool as a clam ♪ Said, I've been a maid for 50 years ♪ ♪ Now I've found myself a man ♪ A revolver she aimed at the burglar's head ♪ ♪ And these are the words she said ♪ ♪ Now, young man, you must marry me ♪ ♪ Or I'll blow off the top of your head ♪ ♪ The burglar was looking around the room ♪ ♪ Didn't see no place to scoot.

♪ ♪ He looked at the wig and the big glass eye ♪ ♪ And he said, for God's sake, shoot ♪ (audience applauding) I remember doing a performance in upstate New York one time.

And I sang a song about Maine.

And I noticed right in the front row there was a fella standing there with tears running down his cheeks.

And I thought, boy, this, this guy's homesick.

He must be.

Well, after the performance, I hunted him up and I said, I noticed that you were quite overcome there for that song that I sang from Maine.

And I was wondering, are you from Maine?

And he said, no, I'm a singer.

(audience laughing) I think I should have saved that one for later.

Now, to get into the difference between coastal and inland humor and to remind you that I remarked not long ago that I usually wait till a fella's dead before I steal his material, we had a storyteller from Skowhegan, Maine, which is well inland, fellow named Steve Merrill.

And he had a lot of stories which were generously laced with exaggeration, shall we say?

And he told this one- Last summer was the worst fishing I ever saw in my life.

I get into my boat last Sunday and I get out on Sibley Bog And I sat there for much as two hours, slapping black flies and mosquitoes and I never got a bite.

I was down to my last worm, but he didn't look too good, He didn't have much color to him.

He'd been laying there in the sun for two hours, didn't seem to have no sprawl to him.

Well, I brought along a jug of applejack, just in case of snake bite.

And that was what was keeping me going.

So I thought, well, I'll see if I can revive him a little.

So I took a little bit of that applejack and put it into bait can and souzled him around a little.

He seemed to perk up.

Put him on the hook, damned if he didn't snap at me.

Well, throwed him overboard and it wasn't five seconds when I felt a wicked yank on that line.

And I hauled it up and there was a bass 'bout, oh, 'bout that far from the boat (audience laughing) and he had bit that hook right in two, sheared it right off just like a pair of side cutters.

And that cussed little worm, he had a half Nelson around that bass's neck with one end of him and he'd throwed a rolling hitch around what was left of the line on the other end and was yanking for me to haul him in.

Well, I did.

And I gave him another shot of applejack and sent him down again.

You know something, if he hadn't passed out on the 18th fish there wouldn't have been a bass left in Sibley bog.

(audience applauding) We happen to be right in the middle of where we invented fog.

This is the fog capital of the world, you didn't know that.

Well, a few years ago there was a fellow come up here from, I'm not gonna pick on New Jersey anymore, I'm gonna say New York.

He had a brand new boat, nice big yacht.

And he pulled into Camden Harbor and he was complaining about this boat.

He'd talking to different people around the harbor, and he said he didn't have no sense of direction.

He'd spent a fortune for this boat and he had the worst time getting up here you could imagine, He wanted to go to Canada, but he just didn't dare to go any further.

He was worn out.

Well, I figured I knew what ailed him, or the boat, rather.

So we fell to talking and finally I told him, I says, I think I know what your problem is.

Well, the upshot of it is we went out.

And sure enough my theory was right.

See what they'd done when they put the engine in the boat, they didn't calibrate the compass and it was 30 degrees off.

No wonder couldn't get from one buoy to the other.

Well, that was easy enough to determine.

I told him that was what was wrong with it, nothing very serious.

So we said, well, how do you calibrate a compass?

Now down off Rockland the Navy has set up some trial buoys and they are set precisely so that you can run back and forth between them on a predetermined heading and calibrate your compass.

So down we went.

Well, we got halfway down there and the fog come in thicker than three in a bed.

About like tonight.

Well, he got worried.

See, when it gets foggy like that, this is a shipping channel out here going up in Searsport and some of them tankers're 800 feet long.

And he got quite worried.

He says, boy, we've had it now.

Our compass is no good.

We don't know which way we're pointed.

We don't have any radar.

We could run right into side of one of them great big vessels and splinter and sink and they'd never know we'd hit 'em.

So I told him, I says, now, when it's foggy like this and you don't know where you headed, you navigate with potatoes.

Well, that really stirred him up.

He says, navigate with potatoes?

How the hell do you navigate with potatoes?

Well, it's a very simple down east trick.

You see, I told him, I said, what we do is you take a bag of potatoes up on the bow and you throw 'em ahead a ya, one to a time like that.

And when one of them don't splash, you turn.

(audience applauding) Mostly the stories you have heard have been humorous ones.

There are, of course, many good stories which are not humorous.

And in order to help round things out a little bit I'd like to tell you one that is not humorous.

It's in the form of a poem, which has been for many centuries a good way to tell a story.

It's about a ship and it was written by John Masefield.

You probably know him best for his, "I must get down to the sea again," that's very famous, and he's written many others.

One of them is called the "Loch Achray" and what happened to her.

She were a clipper tall With seven-and-twenty hands in all.

Twenty to hand and reef and haul, And and the skipper to sail and mates to bawl "Tally onto the tackle-falls, Heave now 'n' start her, heave 'n' pawl!'

Hear the yarn of a sailor.

'Tis an old yarn, learned at sea.

The crew was shipped and they said "Farewell, "So-long, my Tottie, my lovely gell; "We sail to-day if we fetch to hell, It's time we tackled the wheel a spell."

The dockside loafers talked on the quay The day they towed her down to sea: "Lord, what a handsome ship she be!

"Cheer 'er, sonny boys, three times three!"

And the dockside loafers gave her the shout As the red-funneled tug-boat towed her out; Aye, they gave her the cheer as the custom is, And the crew yelled back, "Give our love to Liz-- "Three cheers for old Pier Head 'N' the bloody stay-at-homes!"

they said.

In the grayness of the coming on of night She dropped the tug at the Tuskar Light, Topsails went to the topmast head To a chorus that fairly well woke the dead.

Her yards were trimmed and she slanted South With her royals set and a bone in her mouth.

They crossed the line and all went well.

They ate, they slept, they struck the bell And I give you gospel truth when I state The crew could find no fault with the Mate.

But one night off the river Plate She freshens up and she blows like thunder, Burrowed her deep, lee-scuppers under.

The old man he says, "I aim to hang on "Till her canvas busts or her sticks are gone"-- Which the blushing loony did, till at last Overboard went the mizzen-mast.

Then a fierce squall struck the 'Loch Achray' And buried her down to her water-ways; Her main-shrouds gave and the forestay, And green seas carried the wheel away; Before the watch below had time to dress She was cluttered up in a blushing mess.

She couldn't lay-to nor yet pay-off, And the decks were swept clean in the bloody trough; Her masts were gone, and afore you knowed She filled by the head and down she goed.

Her crew made seven-and-twenty dishes For the big jack-sharks and the little fishes, Over their bones the water swishes.

Now the wives and girls, they wait in the rain For a ship as won't come home again.

"Oh, I reckon it must be them head-winds," they say, "She'll be home to-morrow, if not to-day.

"I'll just nip home 'n' air the sheets "'N' buy the fixins 'n' cook the meats "As my man likes, as my man eats."

Home they go up the windy streets, Thinking their men are homeward bound With anchors hungry for English ground, The bloody fun of it is, they've all drowned!

Hear the yarn of a sailor, 'Tis an old yearn, learned at sea.

(audience applauding) This is a request.

It's not really a story, but it's a request and I can't very well say no.

And it happens to be the National Anthem of Rockport, Maine.

And it has a chorus, which if you don't know, you're gonna have to learn before you leave the town.

It's the law.

♪ Call all hands to man the capstan ♪ ♪ See her cable runnin' clear ♪ Heave away and with a will, boys ♪ ♪ For New England we will steer ♪ ♪ Rollin' home, rollin' home ♪ Rollin' home across the sea ♪ Rollin' home to old New England ♪ ♪ Rollin' home, dear land to thee ♪ That's the chorus.

♪ Up aloft amid the rigging ♪ Blows a wild and favoring gale ♪ ♪ Heave away and with a will, boys ♪ ♪ And we'll give her all her sail ♪ ♪ Rollin' home, rollin' home ♪ Rollin' home across the sea ♪ Rollin' home to old New England ♪ ♪ Rollin' home, dear land to thee ♪ ♪ Fare you well, you Spanish maiden ♪ ♪ It is time to say adieu ♪ Happy times we've spent together ♪ ♪ Happy times we've spent with you ♪ ♪ Rollin' home, rollin' home ♪ Rollin' home across the sea ♪ Rollin' home to old New England ♪ ♪ Rollin' home, dear land to thee ♪ ♪ Round Cape Horn one frosty morning ♪ ♪ And her sails were full of snow ♪ ♪ Clear your sheets and sway your halyards ♪ ♪ Swing her up and let her go ♪ Rollin' home, rollin' home ♪ Rollin' home across the sea ♪ Rollin' home to old New England ♪ ♪ Rollin' home, dear land to thee ♪ Thank you, you've been a great audience.

(audience applauding) - The Rockport National Anthem, kind of an appropriate way to end the Storyteller's Festival up in Rockport, Maine, wouldn't you say?

Well, there you have it, the Maine Storyteller's Festival from the Rockport Opera House.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Look at me, standin' here yakin', I better get outside and finish my chores.

Looks like the fog finally burned off.

Might know the weatherman said it was gonna be foggy all day, wouldn't you?

And so I lost my lover.

And to this cafe I come and here I wait till someone stirs his coffee with his thumb