Ballads

Since my surgery, my dad has been walking my dog. Yesterday, he referred to the dog as "Old Shep," which is not his name. That's because Dad had been remembering a song by that name, and he recited the first verse, like this:

When I was a boy and Old Shep was a pup,
O'er hills and meadows we'd stray.
Just a boy and his dog, we were both full of fun.
We grew up together that way.

Later I googled the first line. It turns out it's "lad" instead of "boy," but otherwise Dad remembered it well. Elvis recorded the song, too, but I figured the one Dad heard in the barn in the 1940s would be the one by Red Foley. Finally, I found a site where you can listen to Red Foley sing "Old Shep"; you have to click on the "Play" button for the song:

Red Foley sings "Old Shep"

Here are the words:

When I was a lad and old Shep was a pup,
O'er hills and meadows we'd stray.
Just a boy and his dog, we were both full of fun.
We grew up together that way.

I remember the time at the old swimming hole
When I would have drowned beyond doubt.
Shep was right there--to the rescue he came.
He jumped in and helped pull me out.

So the years rolled along, and at last he grew old.
His eye sight was fast growing dim.
Then one day the doctor looked at me and said,
"I can't do no more for him, Jim."

With a hand that was trembling, I picked up my gun.
I aimed it at Shep's faithful head.
I just couldn't do it, I wanted to run,
And I wished that they'd shoot me instead.

I went to his side, and I sat on the ground;
He laid his head on my knee.
I stroked the best pal that a man ever found.
I cried so I scarcely could see.

Old Sheppy, he knew he was going to go
For he reached out and licked at my hand.
He looked up at me just as much as to say,
We're parting but you understand.

Now old Shep is gone where the good doggies go,
And no more with old Shep will I roam.
But if dogs have a heaven, there's one thing I know:
Old Shep has a wonderful home.

My dad likes songs that tell a story, which is to say ballads. Reading about Timothy Steele the other day, and how in academic or artistic circles he was considered a radical for writing formal poetry (that is, using a form) instead of free verse reminded me of when I taught poetry to my homeschool students. I taught them about different traditional forms, too, such as sonnets and blank verse. One we learned was the ballad meter, which is alternating lines of iambic tetrameter and trimeter, four lines at a time, with the second and fourth lines rhyming (the first and third may rhyme, too, but not necessarily).

An iambic foot of poetry has two syllables, and the second one is stressed. The words tetrameter and trimeter refer to how many iambic feet per line: four and three. So a ballad meter should go:

da DAH da DAH da DAH da DAH
da DAH da DAH da DAH
da DAH da DAH da DAH da DAH
da DAH da DAH da DAH

"Old Shep" does pretty much fit the ballad meter. Sometimes there are extra syllables in the line, but the emphasis in a ballad is how many stresses per line (four and three) rather than how many syllables. Some extra unstressed syllables are okay. Here's the first stanza with the stresses capitalized and bolded:

when I was a LAD and old SHEP was a PUP
o'er HILLS and MEADows we'd STRAY
just a BOY and his DOG we were BOTH full of FUN
we GREW up toGETHer that WAY

I wonder if Red Foley knew about the ballad meter when he wrote "Old Shep," or if he just knew from having heard ballads while growing up what a ballad should sound like. Notice that the second and fourth lines rhyme, but not the first and third.

In searching online to refresh my memory about the ballad meter, I saw that it is also called the hymn meter, because many Protestant hymns use it too:

aMAZing GRACE how SWEET the SOUND
that SAVED a WRETCH like ME
i ONCE was LOST but NOW am FOUND
was BLIND but NOW i SEE

I think it's just a form that works so well for the English language that we use it without even analyzing it. Pretty neat.