John Dashney was an internationally loved storyteller, historian, and author of children’s books. We had corresponded for a few years when he sent me this poem, wondering if it might become a song. I loved the story, the nuts and bolts of it, the characters and the way John presented them with such honesty and respect, so I made this tune for it, which he said he liked. Here’s why I believe this is a true story. The “bar” off the mouth of the Columbia River is one of the most dangerous river-bars in the world, and captains who pilot the ships across it must have the highest credentials in the world. In their office in Astoria, there’s a plaque on the wall commemorating the first known Columbia River Bar Pilot. -Comcomly. [Thanks to friend & hero Capt. Deborah Dempsey, Bar Pilot, for all her kindnesses]
Jane Barnes was a barmaid in Portsmouth town and he decided it might be fun to give up her job,
Take up with a man, and sail for the shores of Oregon, sail for the shores of Oregon
So she sailed away for Baker's Bay, round the horn in the Isaac Todd.
It's thirteen months from Portsmouth town to the shores of Oregon, by God, there to the shores of Oregon
Donald McTavish was the man she chose when that long trip was first begun,
The new governor at old Fort George that sat on the shores of Oregon, sat on the shores of Oregon
But the governor's boat was swamped and sunk, and McTavish and his crew were drowned,
His body washed up on the shore, but the rest of the men were never found,
The rest of the men were never found
So Jane was left without a man, alone as on the sands she trod,
In 1814 on a rainy beach on the shores of Oregon, by God, there on the shores of Oregon
Then Prince Cassakas said to her, I am great chief Comcomly's son,
I got four wives but marry me and live on the shores of Oregon, live on the shores of Oregon
I'll give you kinnikinnick to smoke, seal oil to rub on your skin so white,
Then you'll never have to grub for roots, nor dig for clams on the shore at night, clams on the shore at night
By God, said Jane, I do need a man, why did McTavish have to drown,
But a man who smells like rotten fish, I'd rather serve beer in Portsmouth town, and smell like the beer in
Portsmouth town
So Jane sailed away from Baker's Bay to the west and followed the setting sun, clear round the world to Portsmouth town,
and far from the shores of Oregon, far from the shores of Oregon
Now Jane never made the history books, and children never read of her life,
For she was a barmaid bold and not some pious missionary wife, pious missionary wife
Jane was a barmaid coarse and bold, and yet when all is said and done,
By God, she was first and far from the worst to come to the shores of Oregon, come to the shores of Oregon