PIONEER LIFE IN UTAH
By: Peter Howard McBride
(Possibly Peter Howard Jr)
What a story these words impart--trials of want and hardships that were born by the brave, true hearts, of grand men and noble women, who from a distant land had come to the vales of the rocky mountains, to build themselves a new home.
The lands were dry and arid and it seemed that nothing could grow, with no moisture from the heavens but the wintry storms of snow. But they dammed up the mountain torrents, turned the streams on the parched up earth, and the golden grain spread upward, and paid for the toilsome work.
It was first the rude log cabin and next the grim stockade, to guard their wives and children from the savage raid. It was next to fight the crickets that came in millions strong, to take the first scant harvest that had grown in this new land, and it seemed that naught could save it from the great marauding band.
But they believed that they were shielded by the strong right arm of God, and it gave them hope and courage on the thorny path they trod. Then great clouds of flying seagulls destroyed the cricket horde. And the first poor crop was gathered and in the new homes safely stored. Then prayers went up to heaven from every lowly home, and peace and hope were with them throughout the wintry storms.
Next spring they dug the segos from the mountain side, to eat with their scant rations they had grown the year before. But, somehow hope was with them, that yet they'd overcome--all these trials and hardships before their lives were done.
Next against the hostile savages these brave hearts had to stand, they had killed and wounded many of our devoted band. They drove off our cows and horses and brought sorrow to our homes and it was hard for to subdue them in this Rocky Mountain land. But we fought them, and we fed them, some are living yet today both meek and friendly neighbors with their war paint washed away.
Then next we were assaulted by a great destroying band--black clouds of giant grasshoppers spread broadcast o'er our land. One half our crops were taken and it seemed that all must go, and we talked about Elijah and the ravens and the tales of long ago.
But with all of these old trials we were a joyous happy band, we were all friends and stood together, we were Knights Templer of the land. And our sweethearts, oh God bless them, how we took them to the Balls. Down in that old log school house now just like their grand halls, but to us it was a castle filled with joy and love for all.
Then at the raid of James Buchanan forth went the Light Brigade, for to guard the mountain passes no unknown army could invade; this bright land that we called ours by the efforts we had made. But again the white-winged Angel brought the olive branch of peace and Buchanan's raid was over and that trouble then did cease.
All these with many others this old pioneer band passed through, but each year their prospect brightened and more strong their colonies grew. And today these old crusaders clasp each other by the hand, and think with joy upon the outcome of the trials they have borne.
And now at these grand reunions where the stories of the past are always told by some old comrade, long, and truly may they last. And though our cheeks have lost their roses and our pass may soon be here, may kind thoughts be ever cherished for the Utah Pioneers.
MY FATHER’S HALF BUSHEL
My father's half
bushel comes oft to my mind, and awakens feelings of various kinds,
T’was a noble half bushel, a truthful half bushel, an honest half bushel as any you will find,
When I think of that half bushel, my father's half bushel that dear half bushel honest and true
And look at these political half bushels, little scrubby half bushels makes me feel blue.
The political half
bushel is the stingiest half bushel, it shrinks to the candidates size
It gets very small when its dealing with truth, but, a shocking half bushel when dealing with lies
The Social half bushel is the smoothest half bushel, it would bring the rich and poor to the
poor man's level,
It would measure the
great capitol, it would measure the labor.
While the government and. labor could go to the devil.
The Democrat’s half bushel is a tricky half bushel, its voters like flies in a web is gotten.
Its a silver-lined half bushel, good-looking half bushel, but the hoops are loose and a hole in the bottom.
The Republican’s half
bushel is the grandest half bushel, its the rich man's pride
and the poor man's friend.
All other half' bushels are- transient half bushels,
The Republican half bushel will endure to the end.
Composed by Peter He McBride for a political
Rally held sometime in the 1920’s
Then for the bushel,
for the grand old half bushel,
When go to the polls, politicians will wonder
And the sun won’t go down on the day of election
Till all other half bushels will be snowed under.
FOURTH OF JULY SONG COMPOSED BY PETER H. MCBRIDE
FOR JULY 1876 CENTENNIAL
HE SANG IT ON THE LITTLE COLORADO
My friends I’m going to
sing to you about the 4th of July
And if .you’ll listen till I get through, you'll either laugh or cry
So now pull out your handkerchiefs and prepare to sniffle and weep,
Or snicker and laugh and hip hurrah, and don't you go to sleep.
It’s a hundred years
ago today since John Bull used to stand
With one foot on the ocean and the other one on dry land
And bellow and paw and switch his tail and dig the dirt with his horns
And lick the Frenchman two to one, before Uncle Sam was born,
When Uncle Sam was a
little boy, while yet on his mother's knee
She taught him not to be scared of cattle neither by land or sea,
So when John Bull made a snort at him and found he wouldn't scare
'Twas then he drew his long horns in for Washington was there.
If there should be any
John Bulls beneath the sound of my voice
Just stick your fingers in your ears or listen--just take your choice.
Or else put on your Wellington hats and vamoose out of the crowd
For I'm going to do some bragging now. I’m going to holler it loud.
It was at the battle of
Lexington when the Big Bull fight began
Old Putman left his plough in the fields to go and see the fun.
Behind the trees and rooks and hills, in hedges and ditches and stumps
You could see the Red Coats run for their lives and the Yankies shoot‘em and jump.
John Bull he never
forgot the battle of Bunker Hill
He went into the ring with his sleeves rolled up, he surely went in to kill.
But he couldn't withstand the American fire, which mowed them down like corn
So John backed down and had to crawl out of the little end of the horn.
One day in the city of
Boston John Bull made a bad break,
He thought he'd surprise the Yankee boys and take them all in at a rake
But he ran against a snag in the harbor, a snag about Washington's size
Arid he captured Cornwallace; his army and sware, and it made John open his eyes.
So he could see
Washington's everywhere, on river or sea and land,
And you know that a square look at Washington, Is more than John Bull can stand.
He had to encounter Mad Anthony Wayne, and the band that Marion lead
And Old Putnam the man who could ride over rocks where a British couldn’t be had.
Old Hickory Jackson he
was a sport that fed the British on beans
As he stood behind his cottonwood bale fort at the battle of New Orleans.
He taught the Englishman how to fighr and showed them a Yankee trick.
He put his saddle on old Packenham and trotted him up the creek,
Now that was the last
we’ve heard of John Bull and if he ever bellows again
We’ll wake up Washington, Jackson, Putnam, Perry and Warren and Wayne,
They’re always on. hand when liberty calls, and they never went back on the flag
But they held it aloft while bomb shells and bells did rattle like peas in a bag.
Now Uncle Sam is a full
grown man so you .better look out Johnnie Bull
He can swallow you, horns, hide, taller and all and not have a belly half full.
So fill your glasses full my boys, while the Banner floats on high.
And we all drink to the flag and Washington, Uncle Sam and the 4th of July.
Hip, Hip, Hip for
the 4th of July has came again and we have came out to meet him Hurrah!
ree rye row rum rickety mountain bully. I can out run, out jump, throw down, out whip, out wallop,
out steal, out lie, out drink, out smoke, out chew, out sware, out cuss, out anything, any darned
sun-of-a gun of an Englishman that ever drank a cocktail on the 4th of July. Out squirt tobacco juice
on a. snowdrift
at Christmas time, Hurrah! Let us holler or I’ll bust! This Is the day
Washington stuck his hatchet in a stump, on top of Bunkerhill Monument and swore that he would
never pull it out again as long as there was a cuss of an Englishman this side of the Atlantic Ocean.
Bully for George. Three cheers for Washington. Hurrah! Hurrah! George is a green mountain boy
so am I so is - - - So is - - - Hurrah for the 4th of July.
THE FREIGHTERS SONG
Come all ye jolly
freighters we travel on the road,
That ever hauled a load of coke from Wilcox to Globe.
Just how I made my living for ten long years or more ..
Was hauling coke for Liverman, no wonder I am poor.
In 1883 I started with
my team, chuck full of glee
With that delucive golden dream,
But the first night out from Wilcox my best horse got stole
And it made me cuss a little when I came out in the hole.
That left me with but
three, Kate and Molly and old Mike
He being the best one 1 put him on spike
I went the mountain road so the people wouldn’t smile
And it took me fifteen days to travel fourteen miles,
But I got there just
the same with my little three-up-spike,
But I had to go in debt again to get a mate for Mike.
And you all know how to pity me, for when once you get behind
You never can get even boys unless you steal them blind.
I was an honest man
when I first hit the road
I wouldn't take an oath, nor I wouldn't tap a load.
But ought to see my mules when I begin to cuss,
They wiggle their tails and flop their ears, and pull the load or bust.
Now I'm a freighter
right, and I’m up to all the tricks
I can tap a whisky barrel with nothing but a stick,
They never can detect it, I’ve got it down quite pat,
And fill it up again with water, sure, there's no harm in that.
Barbed wire and bacon
is all that they will pay
We have to use our copper checks to buy our grain and hay.
When you ask them for five dollars, Old Myers will scratch his pate
And their clerks with paper collars will say, "Get down and pull your freight."
Our home is round the
campfire, where 'ere we camp at night.
It's there we drink our coffee, and pass around the pipe,
We sing our songs and spin our yarns, and pass the bottle round
And It’s always filled with something good that some poor freighter found,
My clothes are rather
rough and I know they’re not genteel,
But they are good enough till I can make another steal.
My boots are Number 10, I stole them from a Chaw,
And my coat cost "do-re-al from a little Apache squaw,
I've traveled in the
sunshine, I've traveled in the rain,
I've lost my wagon in the mud and dug it out again,
I've laid out in the snow till its a wonder I’m not dead,
With a diver-a-vit of cover but an Arizona bed.
We take our money minus
Keller's ten percent
And blow it in along the road, until it is all spent.
And every town we come to, we have a jolly time and dance
And try to kiss the pretty girls when ‘ere we get a chance.
When we get to Pima,
the girls they are so fine,
A fellow wants to treat them all to Uncle Moses wine.
But Thatcher has the prettiest girls, it is there we stay all night.
But we have to go to Safford to get a little tight.
Another trip or two and
old Mike he will peg out
As for old Kate and Moll, they've both gone up the spout
Old Kate kicked up at Bailey's well, and Moll kicked up at the sub,
And if her poor old bones could speak, they'd say she died for want of grub.
Now 1'11 have to quit
the road but before I do, I'11 tell.
What I intend to do when I get down to hell
Tis there I'll meet old Liverman and Meyers with their specks,
For the devil is sure to catch them both, when they cash in their checks.
I want to get there
first before Liverman and Meyers,
And get the job of hauling coke, to keep up Satan's fires,
Then Liverman and Meyers will, be my peons you see
And I'll treat then both like yellow dogs, just like they treated me.
Hell fire and brimstone
is all that I will pay,
They'll have to use their copper checks to buy their grain and hay,
And when they ask for money, My clerks will make them wait
And I’11 pay them back in their own coin, "Get down and pull your freight."
Chorus to Freighter Song
song was composed by Peter H. McBride while he was freighting from
Wilcox to Globe off and on for ten years, from 1883-1893. It's been sung all
over the west, and has almost become famous.
0 I've a song called
Anything and if you’11 lend an ear,
1’11 try to sing it to you so your hearts to cheer,
Sing a love song, a comic song, 0 do sing Anything.
There's a hop toad in the garden, a teasing bumble bees,
And a nigger in the woodpile with a tooth pick stabbing fleas.
So we’ll sing of the
past, of the sweet by and by,
A little pig a big pig, a root hog or die.
Sing anything, sing anything, O do sing anything.
Sing anything, sing anything, that’s what the people say,
A long song a short song to pass the time away,
A happy song a sad
song, just something all can sing.
Sing something old, sing something new, yea sing; anything.
Never chew your own tobacco, either beg, borrow, or steal
And when you make your mush, make it of oats not Indian meal.
So we’ll sing of the
past, of the sweet by and by,
A big pig, a little pig, a root hog or die.
Sing anything, sing, anything, 0 do sing anything.
Jonah was a fisherman, he swallowed up a whale,
Cain killed his brother Able and they locked him up in jail.
Adam was a juicer man,
and so was his wife Eve too
They sold Lauger Beer on Sunday, and paddled their own canoe.
There was a man in Minnesota, a hundred years ago,
A boy in South Dakota had a rooster what could crow.
And the people in New
Jersey have icicles on their noses.
And they say the girls in Pima have bunions on their toes.
REFRAIN-There’s a hornet on the grindstone, a sharpening up his sting,
While I’m a wearing out my jaws a singing Anything.
Please note---The story goes that once
when a crowd of men were sitting around their campfire after
the evening meal, someone asked father to sing a song, he said he
couldn't think of one and wasn't in the humor of singing, but they kept
urging him to just sing anything--anything would do, so he made up a
silly song as he went along, and this was the result, (I never
heard father sing this song, but Howard has sung it many
times,. Howard had a sweet voice and every one loved to hear him sing.
This is all I could find of the song),
THE FIRST LATTER-DAY SAINTS TO ENTER OLD MEXICO
Here is a quotation from a Colonia Jaurez History, written by Nellie Spilsbury Hatch, "November 1884, Joseph K. Rogers, Peter H. McBride, Andrew Anderson, Joseph Jorgensen, Lyman Wilson and John Loving entered northern Chihuahua., Mexico, passed through La Ascension and settled in Corralitos."
January 12, 1885 James Gale and Mons Larson passed through La Ascension and joined the Mormon men who had settled in Corralitos in November of 1884.
Elizabeth Ann Gale, wife of James Gale and Laura Lewis McBride, wife of Peter H. McBride whose husbands were with the company, who came to Corralitos earlier, crossed the border into Mexico on the 16th of February 1885 passed through the Custom House, and these two women were given and provided with "PASSES, FREE, HENCEFORTH."
Please remember this is a bit of history worthy of remembering, these two women were the first Mormon women to ever enter Mexico and these eight men spoken of above were the first Mormon men to cross the border.
These men rented land from the Corralitos Farming Company and settled down to work, but James Gale and Peter McBride sent for their wives, and it is presumed these two women with their children drove all the way to Mexico with their children alone, these two men were given an old grist mill to live in and they fixed it up, partitioned it and made it quite comfortable to live in, Peter McBride's diary states, their home was always open for the saints going and coming from the states back home.
On March 8 Elder George Teasdale visited these Mormon people and gave them a branch organization of the Church of Jesus Christ, with Joseph K. Rogers presiding Elder, James Gale Superintendent of Sunday School and Peter McBride Secretary, and music director.
Remember this was the first LDS Church organization in the Nation of Old Mexico, and most of them were from the Pima Ward in the St. Joseph Stake of Zion.
My father along with the rest of the men from the United States got very discouraged, all summer they worked and it was hot. All they got out of the summer’s work was their "Grub" as they called it, not a cent of money. Mr. Chauncy Webb was the contractor and he had to pay the Mexican laborers and when that was done there wasn’t any money left for the white men so they went home with as much money as they had when they first went there.
This from Laura McBride Smith:
After attending a Stake Conference in Thatcher, Arizona , Dad put his brief case in the back of the buggy, and it began to rain and the wind blew so hard that it almost blew him, his horse and buggy off the road. But when he reached home his brief case was gone.
The next day he took Claude and I with him to look for it, and we never found the brief case nor one paper from it after three trips. But whatever happened to that brief case, Dad was a broken-hearted man. I detected a lump in his throat and with an unsteady voice he told me that 75 compositions was in that briefcase, almost all of his life’s work "If I don’t find it," he said, "I will never write again." Of course he did but he felt so bad about losing them., his love for music outweighed his disappointments, for he never did quit.. He started the first Dramatic Company in the Valley, and the first Choir, and blessed the lives of countless people through his music and his efforts. He was also an excellent dancer.
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