Thoreau's Favorite Song

Tom Bowling - Thoreau's Favorite Song

Excerpt from the article: Henry D. Thoreau And His Favorite Popular Song by Caroline Moseley (Journal of Popular Culture)

Tom Bowling
by Charles Dibdin

Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling
     The darling of the crew;
No more he'll hear the tempest howling
     For death has broach'd him to.
His form was of the manliest beauty,
     His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful, below he did his duty,
     But now he's gone aloft.

Tom never from his word departed,
     His virtues were so rare,
His friends were many, and true-hearted,
     His Poll was kind and fair;
And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,
     Ah, many's the time and oft!
But mirth has turn'd to melancholy,
     For Tom is gone aloft.

Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,
     When He, who all commands,
Shall give, to call life's crew together,
     The word to pipe all hands.
Thus Death, who kinds and tars despatches,
     In vain Tom's life has doff'd,
For, though his body's under hatches
     His soul has gone aloft.

MIDI arrangement of Tom Bowling
for piano & voice

MIDI arrangement of Tom Bowing
for solo guitar

(Note - These are only humble MIDI files, and will sound different on each system depending upon your sound card and software, but it will give you an idea what the piece sounds like)

All biographers of Henry D. Thoreau note his special fondness for a song called "Tom Bowling." When a man has a favorite song, it is likely that he has involvement in that song which transcends its value as entertainment. He tells us about himself by the form of expression he chooses (here, popular music), and his selection within that genre (here, "Tom Bowling"). If he performs the song, as Thoreau did, he tells us even more. We say that he "expresses himself" in the song; he distills his personality in the performance. It is significant that Thoreau, in his liking for "Tom Bowling" and other popular songs of the day to a degree at least endorsed the mainstream cultural values which in so many other areas he rejected. In his social-musical behavior, at least, he did "keep pace with his companions," and heard the same "drummer" as did the Concord bourgeoisie.

"Poor Tom Bowling, or The Sailor's Epitaph," was one of many similar nautical songs by the Englishman Charles Dibdin (1745-1814). It is an elaborate tribute to an idealized sailor, and was the most popular song of a very popular composer -- indeed, "Tom Bowling" is still found in anthologies of popular song.

There is no doubt that "Tom Bowling" was Thoreau's favorite song. Thoreau himself mentions it only once in his journal and once in his correspondence, but his friends and biographers all associate the song with him. Concord schoolmaster F.B. Sanborn called it "his unique song of 'Tom Bowline,' which none who heard would ever forget." William Ellery Channing, perhaps Thoreau's closest friend, noted that "anyone who ever heard him sing 'Tom Bowline' will agree that, in tune and in tone, he answered, and went far beyond, all expectation." A Concord woman said, "I remember his singing 'Tom Bowline' to us, and also playing the flute". Another villager remembered the Thoreau family gathered at the piano, "and thrilling was their singing of that gem, 'Tom Bowline'." Edward Emerson wrote of Thoreau's rendition of "Tom Bowling," "To this day that song, heard long years ago, rings clear and moving to me."

Sheet music for "Tom Bowling" is thought to have been given him by the Ricketsons of New Bedford. Thoreau wrote to Daniel Ricketson: "Please remember me to your family, and say that I have at length learned to sing 'Tom Bowlin' according to the notes." One wonders what textual or melodic variations Thoreau had introduced to call forth such a gift; certainly he had already been singing the song for some time. Three months earlier he wrote of a spring shower, during which he took shelter under Lee's Cliff: "I sang 'Tom Bowling' there in the midst of the rain, and the dampness seemed to be favorable to my voice."

Many consider Thoreau to be the father of the American conservation movement. He loved to walk. His walking stick was notched for measuring things. He also carried a flute, and a music book for pressing flowers.

"Thoreau's Flute"

We sighing said, "Our Pan is dead;
His pipe hangs mute beside the river;
Around it wistful sunbeams quiver,
But Music's airy voice is fled.
Spring came to us in guise forlorn;
The bluebird chants a requiem;
The willow-blossom waits for him;--
The Genius of the wood is gone.

Then from the flute, untouched by hands,
There came a low, harmonious breath:
For such as he there is no death;--
His life the eternal life commands;
Above man's aims his nature rose.
The wisdom of a just content
Made one small spot a continent,
And turned to poetry life's prose.

Haunting the hills, the stream, the wild,
Swallow and aster, lake and pine,
To him grew human or divine,--
Fit mates for this large-hearted child.
Such homage Nature ne'er forgets,
And yearly on the coverlid
'Neath which her darling lieth hid
Will write his name in violets.

To him no vain regrets belong
Whose soul, that finer instrument,
Gave to the world no poor lament,
But wood-notes ever sweet and strong.
O lonely friend! he still will be
A potent presence, though unseen,--
Steadfast, sagacious, and serene;
Seek not for him--he is with thee.