IT’S GREAT TO BE AN AMERICAN

For long years the members of the Hamm family in Rowan County, Kentucky, both old and young, have gathered on a Sunday in the month of August for their mountain Eisteddfod. Upon this occasion there is friendly rivalry as to whose ballad or poem is best, who speaks his composition best. And the prize, you may be sure, is not silver but a book of poems. This composition of Nannie Hamm Carter was read at their mountain Eisteddfod in August, 1940.

It’s great to be an American, And live on peaceful shores, Where we hear not the sound of marching feet, And the war-clouds come no more. Where the Statue of Liberty ever stands, A beacon of hope for all, Heralding forth to every land That by it we stand or fall.
It’s great to be an American, For wherever we may go, It is an emblem of truth and right, A challenge to every foe. It’s great to be free and unfettered, And know not wars or strife, Where man to man united, Can live a carefree life,
While men are falling hour by hour Upon some foreign shore Amidst the roar of battle there, Ne’er to return no more. They’re offered as a sacrifice, Upon the altar there, With no one there to sympathize, Or shed for them a tear.
Where men are marching ’mid the strife, Where there, day after day, There’s danger and there’s loss of life Where conquerors hold sway. They bow to rulers’ stern commands, They face the deadly foe, While far away in other lands, There’s sorrow, pain and woe.
But not so in America, The birthplace of the free. For ’midst the conflict Over There, With loss of life and liberty, It’s a privilege to know, That in a world, so fraught with pain, We feel secure from every foe Where naught but fellowship remains.
For in our free country, We hear not the battlecry, We hear not the bugle’s solemn call, When men go forth to die. For over all this land of ours The Stars and Stripes still wave, Waving forth in triumph O’er this homeland of the brave.
Hats off! to our own America, With pride we now can say, We bow not down to rulers, For justice still holds sway. God keep us free from scenes like those That are in other lands, Where the shell-shocked and the wounded Are there on every hand.
So, it’s great to be an American, We’ll stand by our flag always, For right shall not perish from the earth As long as truth holds sway; As long as her sons are united In a cause that’s just and true, The bells of freedom still will ring, Ring out for me and you.
—Nannie Hamm Carter

SAD LONDON TOWN

Jilson Setters composed and set to tune this ballad and sang it at the American Folk Song Festival in June, 1941, to the delight of a vast audience. To the surprise of some he pronounces the word bomb, bum, like his early English ancestors.

Eight years ago I took a trip, I decided to cross the sea; I spent some weeks in London, Everything was strange to me.
The city then was perfect peace, They had no thought of fear, Soon then the bombs began to fall, The airplanes hovered near.
The people cannot rest at night, Danger lingers nigh, Bombs have dropped on many homes, The innocent had to die.
The flying glass cut off their heads, Their hands and noses too; Folks then had to stand their ground, There was nothing else to do.
English folks are brave and true, But do not want to fight. The Germans slip into their town And bomb their homes at night.
They watch the palace of the King, They watch it night and day; They have a strong and daring guard To keep the foe at bay.
—Jilson Setters

The aged fiddler also composed and set to tune the following ballad called—

BUNDLES FOR BRITAIN

Two little children toiled along A steep and lonely mountain road, They heeded not the bitter cold But proudly bore their precious load.
I asked them where they might be bound And what their heavy load might be. They said, “We’re going to the town To send our load across the sea.
“For, far away on England’s shore, Our own blood kin still live, you know; They fight to stay the tyrant’s hand That threatens freedom to o’erthrow.
“And many little homeless ones Are cold and hungry there today, ’Tis them we seek to feed and clothe And every night for them we pray.
“Some of them reach our own dear land, While others perish in the sea; And we must help and comfort them Until their land from war is free.”
Oh, may we like these children face The curse of hate and war’s alarm With faith and courage in our hearts And Britain’s Bundles ’neath our arms.
—Jilson Setters

SERGEANT YORK