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Songs My Grandmother Taught Me
Songs of: Carrie Jacobs-Bond
Peggy Balensuela, Mezzo Soprano
1. A Hundred Years From Now (1914) 2:44
2. Good Night (1905) 2:03
3. Answer the First Rap (1911)* 0:11
5. When Church Is Out (1897) 1:08
6. When My Ships Come Home (1899) 3:42
7. To Understand (1911)* 0:13
8. Her Greatest Charm (1901) 0:30
9. A Perfect Day (1910) 3:01
10. A Present From Yourself (1911)* 0:10
12. A Little Pink Rose (1912) 2:25
13. The Pleasure of Giving (1911)* 0:10
14. June and December (1897) 3:33
15. Your Song (1919) 2:49
16. Keep Awake (1911)* 0:19
17. Just A-Wearyin' For You (1901) 3:17
18. God Remembers When the World Forgets (1913) 2:46
19. A Good Exercise (1911)* 0:08
20. Because of the Light (1944) 1:24
21. Have You Seen My Kittie? (1899) 2:28
22. First Ask Yourself (1911)* 0:12
23. Until God's Day (1902) 2:37
25. Still Unexprest (1901) 1:33
26. Roses Are In Bloom (1926) 2:31
27. When They Say the Unkind Things (1911)* 0:11
28. I Love You Truly (1901) 1:35
29. At Morning, Noon, and Night (1899) 3:44
30. A Song of the Hills (1915) 2:04
31. Making the Best of It (1911)* 0:10
32. Nothin' But Love (1912) 0:49
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From the Half-Minute Songs.
The life of composer, poet, artist, publisher Carrie Jacobs-Bond reads like a classic American rags-to-riches success story. Hailed during her lifetime as the “James Whitcomb Riley of Song,” many of Bond's 400-some “home” songs have become standards in the popular repertory and have been near and dear to the hearts of generations of listeners.
Born in 1862 in a small town in southern Wisconsin, Carrie Jacobs enjoyed some local celebrity as a child prodigy, reproducing at the piano, often after only one hearing, tunes played by touring musicians, including Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody #2. She received minimal formal musical training from local teachers but was not especially encouraged in her music-making at home. After a failed first marriage, during which she bore her beloved son Fred, she married her childhood sweetheart, Dr. Frank Lewis Bond; with him and her son, Jacobs-Bond moved to Iron River, a small mining town in
northern Michigan. Then ensued, according to her
autobiography The Roads of Melody, “the seven happiest years” of her life. Dr. Bond's untimely death in 1895 left her nearly penniless, with herself and her young son to support.
While in Iron River, Jacobs-Bond revived her interest in song composition. While her husband was alive, and in spite of his objections to women working outside the home, she journeyed to Chicago where one publisher had showed interest in some of her children's songs. After her husband's death, however, her very survival depended on finding a market for her songs. Returning to Chicago, the widow and her son endured years of
hand-to-mouth poverty, making ends meet by selling
hand-painted china and taking in sewing and boarders. She doggedly “peddled” her songs to local and visiting celebrities, eventually winning the admiration of, among others, singers David Bispham and Jesse Bartlett Davis, and writer Elbert Hubbard, founder of the Roycrofters. Throughout her life, Jacobs-Bond displayed the knack for engaging influential persons in support of her work,
eventually dedicating songs to opera stars such as Ernestine Schumann-Heink, Rosa Ponselle, Helen Traubel, and Amelita Galli-Curci.
Jacobs-Bond soon came to believe that her success depended on her having complete control over her songs; in 1901, with the guidance of Hubbard and others, she established her own publishing company: the Bond Shop, in a closet of her two-room apartment. In addition to
writing the music and many of the texts of her songs, many of her early publications bear her artwork on their covers: her talent as a painter of china directly transferring into graphic images embodying the sentiment of her songs. The first collections published were modestly titled “…As Unpretentious As the Wild Rose” and decorated with a pink rose, which soon became her trademark. Her son, Fred, was her trusted and faithful partner in the
publishing company until his suicide in 1929.
Though Jacobs-Bond was a success on the
vaudeville/concert circuit both in the United States and abroad, she always found public performance daunting. She would later relate the story of a program she shared in England with the then-unknown Enrico Caruso and of his kindness to her. Audiences had a special fondness for her unaffected, simple recitations of her poems and songs. A friend in later life described Jacobs-Bond's style after a soiree at her California home.
“In a voice drenched with tears, almost basslike in quality, she would sit at her old grand piano and intone these quaint melodies for us. These were certainly not
distinguished compositions, by any means, but there was a quality about them - a wistfulness that was part of her nature - that made each new song seem a revelation.”
Though many of her early songs enjoyed modest success (especially Just A-Wearyin' For You and I Love You Truly), a trip to California in 1909 inspired her biggest “hit”: A Perfect Day. Published in over 60 versions and selling over 5 million copies, A Perfect Day became a mainstay in home sheet music collections; references to the song can still be found in advertising slogans and icons of popular culture today. It became a talisman for American troops in the trenches of Europe during World War I, capturing the essence of what the boys were
fighting for “over there.” Jacobs-Bond became a favorite entertainer at training camps and at the Front, and
reported hearing her song sung as far afield as the streets of Turkey. By 1910 Carrie Jacobs-Bond and the Bond Shop were household names; in 1920, Etude
magazine lauded her as “The most successful composer of songs of the present day.” She later recalled the
“command performances” at the White House for two presidents, Theodore Roosevelt and Warren Harding, as high points in her life. But…interest in her songs was waning: though A Perfect Day was sung by thousands in Times Square on Armistice Day, the post-World War I “swing” culture, dominated by the legacy of Tin Pan Alley, eclipsed the simple sentimentality of most of her songs. The gap between popular and art music was widening: publishers found her music to cloying for the art song market, yet too “highbrow” for the popular market.
In 1920 Jacobs-Bond moved to the then-sleepy town of Hollywood, CA. The death of her son drove her into semi-retirement. The publishing business was sold to the Boston Music Company, leaving only a retail shop in California. Though still composing the occasional song, she eventually settled into the role of grand dame and appeared at numerous festivals in her honor. Her last song was published in 1944, two years before her death. A year or so before she died, Hollywood film director William Keighly (The Man Who Came to Dinner, The Bride Came COD) met Jacobs-Bond at a party hosted by Jeannette McDonald, heard the story of her struggles and eventual success and termed the “little old lady…a scoop…right under [our] noses….I Love You Truly was played at Shirley Temple's wedding only a few days ago. It used to be that a couple thought they weren't legally wed unless somebody got up and sang I Love You Truly. [Carrie Jacobs-Bond] has probably influenced your
emotions more than any glamorous film star that ever lived!” Keighly launched efforts to produce a film of Jacobs-Bond's life, but casting disputes (Keighly saw Irene Dunne as “the best casting bet” for the lead) derailed the project before filming could start.
Bond was interred in the Forest Lawn Memorial Park Court of Honor in Glendale, California, an honor reserved for “great Americans who have contributed outstanding service to humanity.” The invitation to the committal called participants to “entomb an immortal.” Herbert Hoover eulogized: “Carrie Jacobs-Bond's heart songs [expressed] the love and longings, sadness and gladness of all
A composer of American melodies in the tradition of Stephen Foster, Carrie Jacobs-Bond's songs epitomize the Victorian and post-Victorian parlor song:
unapologetically sentimental, yet displaying a genuine lyric gift. In the words of one biographer, her songs
“represent a final flowering of the nineteenth-century
genteelly sentimental song in American popular music.” Rarely trivial, the songs are captivating in their sincerity; many hold their own by any measure of “art song.” Her songs are often compared to those of Amy Beach,
another female pioneer in American song, and with whom she was honored as the only women composers in a 1941 list compiled by the General Federation of Women's Clubs of the 53 most influential American women of the century. She also held the distinction of being one of the first women members of the American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers (ASCAP). The songs of Carrie Jacobs-Bond were certainly a sounding board for the end of an era, and are, even today: “Easy to learn…but hard to forget.”
An active recitalist and concert soloist, mezzo soprano Peggy Balensuela's solo engagements have included
appearances with regional orchestras in cities throughout the United States. A specialist in the music of Bach, her repertoire also includes the Brahms Alto Rhapsody, Verdi's Requiem, Handel's Messiah, Mozart's Requiem, and other standards of the oratorio repertory. Dr. Balensuela was a three-time winner of
fellowships to the Aspen Music Festival and a two-time winner of
artist/fellowships to the Bach Aria Festival and Institute. A
member of the voice faculty at Indiana State University in Terre Haute, IN, Balensuela is also a member of the National Association of Teachers of Singing, the College Music Society, the Society for American Music, and the International Alliance for Women in Music. She earned the Doctorate of Music degree from Indiana University.
Dr. William Hughes is a member of the Indiana State University piano faculty and holds the degree Doctor of Musical Arts from the Eastman School of Music. He is active as a soloist and chamber musician and is a frequent adjudicator and clinician. Hughes is a member of the Music Teachers National Association, the National Guild of Piano Teachers, the American Liszt Society, Pi Kappa Lambda and was active in the National Conference on Piano Pedagogy from 1984 until its dissolution in 1995.
Dr. Balensuela and Dr. Hughes have presented programs celebrating the music of Carrie Jacobs-Bond to the acclaim of a wide range of audiences. They have been frequent guests of
festivals honoring women composers, have performed for
scholarly/professional groups such as the College Music Society and Sigma Alpha Iota, and are popular on civic and elderhostel programs.
A hundred years from now, dear,
We shall not care at all;
It will not matter then, a whit,
The summerdays, that we have known,
Will all forgotten be, and flown,
Where now the roses fall.
A hundred years from now, dear,
We shall not mind the pain;
The throbbing, crimson tide of life
Will not have left a stain.
The song we sang together, dear,
Will mean no more than means a tear
A hundred years from now, dear,
We'll neither know nor care,
What came of all life's bitterness,
Or followed love's despair.
Then fill the glasses up again,
And kiss me thro' the resolve rain;
We'll build one castle more, in Spain,
And dream, one more dream, there.
Save impatience for the morrow,
Baby sleeps in fairy deeps,
The raptured lover lingers,
Touching lips and pressing fingers,
All too soon declines the moon,
The embers turn to ashes,
Eyes are closed with weighted lashes;
Hushed is life beyond all strife,
Opportunity may knock often,
But it's better to answer the first rap!
Sure maybe ye've heard the stormthrush
Whistlin' bould in March,
Before there's a primrose peepin' out,
Or a wee bird cone on the larch;
Whistlin' the sun to come out o' the cloud,
An; the wind to come over the sea,
But for all he can whistle so clear and loud,
He's never the bird for me.
Sure maybe ye've heard the songthrush
Slip from in undher the drippin' leaves,
An' low wi' love when he's near the nest,
An' loud from the top o' the tree,
But for all he can flutter the heart in your breast,
He's never the bird for me.
Sure maybe ye've heard the redbreast
Singin' his lone on a thorn,
Mindin' himself o' the dear days lost,
Brave wid his heart forlorn.
The time is in dark November,
An' no spring hopes has he:
“Remember,” he sings, “remember!”
Ay, thon's the wee bird for me.
When church is out, and Jack and Jill
in linked seclusion stray,
It takes them two long lonely hours
to pick their homeward way;
And as `tis scarcely half a mile,
Why it should take so very long,
except that love is blind.
A child sat close to her mother's knee,
A child perhaps of summers three,
She wanted a dolly that was her prayer,
Whose eyes would close and who had real hair,
But the mother was poor and she shrank with fear,
Lest the child should see the glistening tear.
So she sweetly sang as she turned away,
These comforting words and this tender lay.
Wait dear, wait dear just till my ship comes in,
Then dear, sure dear, dolly you're bound to win...
Yes dear, true dear, dolly to be your own,
With eyes of blue to smile at you
Just wait till my ships come home.
One day a chest from a ship gone down,
Was washed ashore and aroused the town,
The heart of the mother grew cold with fear,
For the chest held the clothes of a child so dear,
And among the toys was a doll so rare,
Whose eyes would close and who had real hair.
Why that's my dolly for sure she's mine,
I's spected that ship for a long long time
`Cause my mamma said just wait till my ship comes in,
My mamma said a dolly you're bound to win,
My mamma said “a dolly to be my own”
With eyes of blue to smile at you
Just wait till my ships come home.
You must have one all your own.
The violet lingers in her eye,
Her dainty lips of poppy leaf
With pearls play hide and seek;
But the dearest of the blossoms,
Which her many charms disclose,
Is the funny little dandelion freckle on her nose.
When you come to the end of a perfect day,
And you sit alone with your thought,
While chimes ring out with a carol gay,
For the joy that the day has brought,
Do you think what the end of a perfect day
Can mean to a tired heart,
When the sun goes down with a flaming ray,
And the dear friends have to part?
Well, this is the end of a perfect day,
Near the end of a journey, too;
But it leaves a thought that is big and strong,
With a wish that is kind and true.
For mem'ry has painted this perfect day
With colors that never fade,
And we find, at the end of a perfect day,
The soul of a friend we've made.
A friend is a present you give yourself.
Once more I sit at evening
And watch the embers burn,
The shadows all come creeping
And then I see a sweet face,
From which all care is gone,
That starts my soul to dreaming
Of old times, love and song.
I know you're way off yonder,
But still you seem with me,
And in the evening shadows
I almost hear you whisper
These words, “I love but you,
And soon we'll be united,
Sweetheart, be brave, be true.”
A little pink rose in my garden grew,
`Twas kissed by the sun, caressed by the dew,
Oh, little pink rose in my garden,
Oh, little pink rose, `twas you!
Oh, little pink rose of your mother's heart!
Have you faded and gone away?
Has the Gardener gathered my little pink rose,
For His loveliest garden today?
Did He need one more blossom of your size and hue,
And was that the reason the Gard'ner chose you?
Oh little pink rose in your mother's heart!
Have you faded, and gone away?
I'd rather say “You're welcome” once,
Than “Thank you” a thousand times.
In June when blossoms were so bright
My hopes were high, my heart was light,
`Twas then we promised love so true,
Yours was for me, mine was for you.
The birds sang sweet, the world looked fair,
My heart could sing, for love was there;
Oh, happy June, sweet happy June,
My soul with Nature was in tune.
And all the world to me seemed fair,
My heart could sing, for love was there.
For June was there, `twas not December,
I knew true love, I will remember
But after June there came December,
A winter time sad to remember,
When love and I did sadly part,
And hope had left my heart.
The birds that sang had gone away,
And it was night instead of day.
And June was passed, it was December,
My love was dead, Oh I remember,
The songs you loved I no more sing,
For sorrow's brought an endless sting.
My June has passed, I met December,
I loved you well, and will remember.
Oh sing to me, darlin', “a bit of a song”
As I lie in the moonlight anear you;
There's a rift in my heart and a hurt in my soul,
And sure `twill be soothin' to hear you.
For oh! `tis the wondrous voice that you own,
So wistful and soft to my hearin';
What mem'ries I have, as I list to its lilts,
Of faces and things so endearin'.
There's times when your note has the call of the lark,
And again I can hear the sweet linnet;
But always, dear, always it leaps to my heart
For the tear and the wail that there's in it.
So sing to me, dearest, a lone little chant
To ease me and still my poor sighin',
For `tis only your song that can rest me tonight
As here in the moonlight I'm lyin'.
Success never comes to the sleeping.
All the time a feelin' blue,
Wishin' for you, wond'rin' when
You'll be comin' home again.
Restless, don't know what to do,
Mornin' comes, the birds awake,
Used to sing so for your sake
But there's sadness in the notes
That come trillin' from their throats.
Seem to feel your absence, too,
Evenin' comes, I miss you more
When the dark gloom's round the door,
Seems just like you orter be
Latch goes tinklin', thrills me through,
Sets me wearyin' for you.
God Remembers When the World Forgets
How many gardens in this world of ours,
Hold blossoms that have never come to flow'rs?
A sudden wind comes coldly by,
The rose tree bids its fairest bud goodbye.
How many ships of ours go out to sea,
In search of havens that shall tranquil be?
The storms of fate their fairest hopes o'er set,
And there is naught to do except forget.
How many wear a smile upon their face,
Although their hearts may hold an empty place?
None know the heights not depths of their regrets,
But God remembers when the world forgets.
With evil things you'll always find
It's best to be deaf, dumb, and blind.
Because of the light of the moon,
Silver is found on the moor;
And because of the light of the sun,
There is gold on the walls of the poor.
Because of the light of the stars,
Planets are found in the streams;
And because of the light in your eyes,
There is love in the depths of my dream.
Have you seen my kitten gray,
She's the cat that runs away,
My but she is awful wild,
She's a dreadful, dreadful child,
Just as soon as she sees me,
Off she goes and climbs a tree,
Yet that kitten I love well,
What's the mater can you tell?
Kittie, Kittie, Kittie, Kittie,
Kittie, Kittie, Kittie, Kittie,
You're the kitten I love well,
What's the matter can't you tell?
Kittie, Kittie, come let's play.
Did she climb a tree so high,
Seemed to reach most to the sky,
Did she always squirm and wail,
If you held her by the tail.
Mama says that it's all me,
Kittens really good would be,
But the kittens I have known,
Seem to want to live alone.
Before you have said it about them,
Ask yourself if you'd like them to know
A little while to walk with you my own,
Then one of us must weep and walk alone
A little while it is so sweet to live together,
That I know life would not have one tear to give,
If one of us should go, if one of us should go.
And if these lips should ever learn to smile
With your heart far from mine,
`Twould be for joy that in a little while
They should be kissed by thine.
Were I a leaf I'd like to be
A scarlet one upon a tree,
And I would swing and never fall,
Just cling and cling and fool `em all!
Were I a rose I'd be so rare
They would not find me ev'rywhere,
And from the day that I was born
I would not grow a single thorn.
Were I a star up in the sky
I'd wear a twinkle in my eye,
I'd shine so bright they could not see
Another single star but me!
Ah! `tis but a dainty flow'r
Yes, `tis but a violet glist'ning with dew.
But deep in it's heart there lie,
So, too, in my heart of hearts,
Ah! `tis but a faded flow'r
Yes, `tis but a violet wet with my tears.
Yet deep in my heart of hearts,
There lives my love for you
There's a rambler on the trellis
And a wildrose in the hedge;
With a gay and golden Marechal Neil
There's a Sweetheart bud a tapping
At the window of my room,
And my heart is singing, singing,
For the roses are in bloom.
Oh, the crimson of each sunset
And the glowing pink at dawn,
Gorgeous colors of the roses
Holding court upon the lawn.
Oh, the joy, the smiles, the fragrance,
Of a land that knows no gloom,
Just a peaceful, sun-kissed haven
When the roses are in bloom.
(Prize poem of the Pasadena Tournament of Roses)
When They Say the Unkind Things
Ain't it gay that what they say
Can't hurt you...unless it's true?
I love you truly, truly dear,
Life with its sorrow life with its tear,
Fades into dreams when I feel you are near,
For I love you truly, truly dear.
Ah love, `tis something to feel your kind hand,
Ah yes, `tis something by your side to stand;
Gone is the sorrow, gone doubt and fear,
For you love me truly, truly, dear.
All thro' the mist of the dawning,
All thro' the mountain space,
All thro' the valley's glimmer,
All thro' the sunrise beauty,
All thro; the mists that rise,
All thro' the shadows falling,
All thro' the sunset's glory,
I hear your low voice singing,
Your hands press my own and I rest.
What you can't help...forget!
I ain't got nothin' and I never had nothin'
And I don't want nothin' `cept you;
I ain't seen nobody, I ain't know' nobody,
I ain't loved nobody, that's true.
But if you love me, I'll love you.
If you want money, though, I won't do;
`Cause I ain't got nothin', and I never had nothin',
And I don't want nothin' `cept you.
Recorded June 6-8, 2000 in the Recital Hall of the
Center for Performing and Fine Arts
Indiana State University, Terre Haute, IN
Recording Engineer: Allan Banfield
Graphic Design: Marie Gustafson-Williams
Funded in part by an Arts Endowment Grant, Indiana State University.
Artwork taken from sheet music published at the Bond Shop.
This CD is dedicated to the memory of Bess Burns Cantwell, and in honor of all the other “Burns Women.”
Peggy Balensuela, mezzo soprano
1. A Hundred Years From Now [2:44]
3. Answer the First Rap [:11]
5. When Church Is Out [1:08]
6. When My Ships Come Home [3:42]
8. Her Greatest Charm [:30]
10. A Present From Yourself [:10]
12. A Little Pink Rose [2:25]
13. The Pleasure of Giving [:10]
14. June and December [3:33]
17. Just A-Wearyin' For You [3:17]
18. God Remembers When the World Forgets [2:46]
19. A Good Exercise [:08]
20. Because of the Light [1:24]
21. Have You Seen My Kittie? [2:28]
22. First Ask Yourself [:12]
23. Until God's Day [2;37]
25. Still Unexprest [1:33]
26. Roses Are In Bloom [2:31]
27. When They Say the Unkind Things [:11]
28. I Love You Truly [1:35]
29. At Morning, Noon, and Night [3:44]
30. A Song of the Hills [2:04]
31. Making the Best of It [:10]
32. Nothin' But Love [:49]
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