Memorial Day is a significant US holiday. And so, it wasn't surprising to me that I heard "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" this weekend. What surprised me was that I knew the words. In fact, I sang along. Now, how, you may wonder, does a Canadian kid claim to know the lyrics of this quintessentially American anthem? Well, I learned it in school.
Yes, way back in the early 60s, some curriculum developer at the Winnipeg School Board thought that a music class for 4th graders should really include, "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." This is an odd choice in my opinion. Canada is not a republic. Nor does it have a battle hymn. Nevertheless, I remember distinctly, us 9 year-olds, sitting at our desks, belting out, "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord…." who was, apparently, carrying a "terrible, swift sword." That was startling. And I doubt any of us had any idea what "the grapes of wrath" were, let alone where they were stored. What was the meaning of this?
That wasn't the only song choice that made no sense to a kid living in the True North. We had limited knowledge of the Civil War, but proudly delivered, in spirited voices, "When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again, Hurrah, Hurrah!" Then we reached back to American revolutionary days for "Yankee Doodle" which was about a dude who came to town riding on a pony with a feather in his cap that he called "macaroni." Whaaaat?
American folk songs didn't comprise the only foreign content in our repertoire. We learned "Waltzing Matilda." Subtitles, please! We didn't have one clue about the Australian outback nor about jolly swagmen, billabongs, jumbucks, or tucker-bags. We sure as heck had never seen a Coolabah tree and had no information about how long it takes for a billy to boil. I suspect our teacher didn't either.
French? "Frere Jacques," of course, and, "Alouette!" Our accents butchered it. The original, en francais, goes,"Alouette, gentile alouette. Alouette, je te plumerai," but in our crappy French it became, "Aloo-ett-a, jaunty plume array." As far as we knew, that could easily have been the right translation — the song IS about a bird, after all.
Then we sang the praises of the British with, "Rule Britannia!" We also crooned, "Early One Morning," which was a sweeter, more lyrical ballad, but so sad. Poor maiden! Who WAS this cad that she begged, "Oh don't deceive me! Oh, never leave me! How can you use a poor maiden so?" Was this supposed to be some kind of sex-ed for us pre-teen maidens? If our teachers meant to make dating sound scary, this was a good start. Mind you, not as terrifying as the film in Health Class about the wonderful thing that was about to happen to us once a month. For me, it was beginning to sink in that womanhood was not going to be as easy peasy as Samantha on Bewitched made it look.
My personal all-time favorite was, "What Do We Do With the Drunken Sailor?" Our teacher did her best to dramatize lyrics, such as, "early in the morning," by making us sing, "err-lie in the mor-nin,'" and she wanted us to change, "Put him in the long boat until HE gets sober," to syncopated rhythm, "Put 'im in the longboat, TILLY he gets sober." Maybe she thought it sounded more authentic that way. Really? Was that what she was worried about? I mean! What kind of a thing is this for a 9-year old kid to be singing!?! Drunken sailors! Indeed.
In other words, we didn't get much Canadian content. But that was Canada when I was a kid. Our country suffered from a huge identity crisis. Bound to Britain. Partly French. Not American in spite of our favorite TV shows. Not entirely comfortable with waves of immigrant populations. Not terribly inclusive of First Nations. It wasn't until later in the 1960s, the Pierre Trudeau era, that discussion arose around Canadian identity. I came into my teens and early adulthood digging deep to understand our values; to celebrate our Canadian culture and heritage. Festivals on major holidays were emceed in French and English. We celebrated our multi-cultural mosaic in song and dance. Radio stations were legislated to play a certain percentage of Canadian music.
In 1967, school kids nationwide learned a simple ditty written by Bobby Gimby: "CA-NA-DA! (one little, two little, three Canadians), WEEE love thee! CA-NA-DA (now we are twenty-million), Strong and Free!" It became our anthem for Canada's centennial year. After that, we were off and running.
Somewhere along the line, we Canadians became known for politeness and funny accents and saying, "Eh?" But, listen, it wouldn't be long after 1967 that we contributed great musicians to the collaborative pop culture; such notables as Joni Mitchell, Neil Young, Ian and Sylvia, Leonard Cohen, The Guess Who, Gordon Lightfoot, and a bit later, Bryan Adams, Diana Krall, Barenaked Ladies, Alanis Morrisette, Michael Bublé, Celine Dion, to name a few. (Sorry about Nickleback.)
Hey, Neil Young grew up in Winnipeg. So did Burton Cummings and Randy Bachman. I wonder if they sang "The Battle Hymn of the Republic" in grade 4?
(Search YouTube for "Bobby Gimby's Canada Song" to see a fun, vintage video.)
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