My Memories of Shawville, from 1900 to 1910

by Robert Judd

Joe Turner made the harness,

George Wainman made the pails

If Wainman was too busy,

You could always go to Dale's

Tom Wilson made the boots and shoes

McGuire sold the boys the booze

And blacksmith Charlie Wainman

Nailed on the horses' shoes

Machinery, sold by Smith and Smart

Supposed to be the best

It was the Massey Harris then

Much better than the rest

There was Frost and Wood, Sylvester too,

And of Deering, quite a few

Scythes and cradles were on hand,

Used for all the rougher land

The reaper also was on hand,

Bundles they were tied by hand

The binder then came in,

It really made the farmers grin

A smile upon their faces, you would see

When it tied up the bundles, by gee

John Shaw had a hardware got,

The Royal Bank is on that spot

Dr. Lyons cured their ills,

And Dr. Klock, he sold the pills

And Donaldson, he had trick

Somehow, he made the watches tick

McRae, he made old frame sleighs

Which helped the farmer on his way

Wagons, buggies, cutters, too

Of these he made quite a few

McCredie planed the boards for floors

Also made window frames and doors

He dressed the lumber for the walls

And also trim for stairs and halls

Chris Caldwell owned the Pontiac

And as for rules, there was no lack

No brawls were e're allowed in there

For them, you had to go elsewhere

Edward Hodgins ran a general store

For food to eat and clothes to wear

He started in the business then

Now operated by his own grandsons

He then a lot of credit give,

In order for poor folks to live

Some bills were large, some bills were small

I wonder if he got it all

James Hodgins' store was farther west

He claimed his goods were far the best

The son then took it over, and ran it for some time

He then became a member,

And the store, it did decline

It has changed hands several times

Since Hodgins first began

A part was sold to Coties

Where they ran a Five-and-Ten

Now, a part is run by Steadman's,

And part by L. and M.

George Caters drew the water,

With his one-horse dray

He was always busy,

Especially on wash day

I still can see his old gray horse

Going down the hill

He would drive right into the creek,

His barrels for to fill

I think he charged ten cents a barrel

Which wasn't very much

He would go unload his water,

Then go in and have a touch

It was mostly whiskey blanc

He drank, which wasn't very dear

It only cost five cents a glass

And would really make you cheer

The Findlay Brothers worked on stone

Foundations for to lay

And many a home in Shawville

Sits there until this day

John Cowan had the Equity,

It was published once a week

And for the latest births and deaths,

His paper we would seek

The minutes of the Council

Were published there also,

Everything was itemized,

So the ratepayer would know

Exactly where the money went,

Not as it is today

All published in one large sum

Where it goes, we do not know

As for the secretary,

I don't blame he or she

It is the rules the Council makes,

So the ratepayers they can't see

There was dummy Rooney

Who always was about

Whenever he would meet you,

His slate he would get out

He was a perfect writer

And questions he would ask

And you wrote down the answer

Which wasn't of first class

He did a lot of sewiing,

As tailoring was his trade

And as he traveled 'round about

And many a suit he made

He would come into the bar

When a bunch of us were in

Although he was a dummy,

He could say one word, "Gin!"

Bill Elliott was the bailiff then,

A kindly man was he

When sent to seize on cattle,

There was a lot he didn't see

W.W. Ireland made the wills

He also made them pay the bills

In Shawville then, no banks were seen

They kept the money in their jeans

Some kept it in a safety box.

Some kept it in an old gray sock

The Merchant's Bank set up in town

Where you could salt our money down

They cashed the cheques, made the odd loan,

If you had money of your own

But now, alas, alack

I think they are a little slack

They hand the money out, by gee,

A lot of which they'll never see

If you want money, south to fly,

You pay it back before you die.

O.D. Sullivan to Shawville came,

He got into the livestock game

He bought the lambs, he bought the cows

He even bought the old brood sows

Stockyards, they had none as then,

They only had a holding pen

They built the pens, they put in scales,

Where you could weigh them, heads and tails

Cars and cars of livestock

Were shipped out from that spot

But later on, the trucks came in,

And then the railroad was forgot

About that time, John Rennick came

And got into the blacksmith game

He would shoe the horses, make the yokes

Set the tires, put in spokes

He also did castrate the colts

Bulls and pigs and dogs, a few

He also did some tomcats, too

He also was quite a vet,

Sick horses, cows on Jack would call

No doubt he could not save them all

Three thousand colts he claimed he'd done,

They all survived, excepting one

He kept good horses, fed them well

And they could always go like hell

A Hodgins owned the carding mill

It was on the creek, over the hill

George Hines the undertaker

He laid the dead to rest

Bob Black the carriage maker

His shop was farther west

And as for sleighs and buggies,

They said his were the best

Sam Armstrong had a brickyard then

A lot of brick was made

For seven days and seven nights,

The fire it did burn

How many brick were in a kiln,

That I did not learn

The Rev. Naylor was here then,

A noble man was he

As he traveled around the parish,

The people for to see

It was in the horse and buggy days

Not as easy as today

You can step into your car,

And soon be on your way

He buried the dead, baptized the babies,

Also married the fair young ladies

He was in Shawville quite a spell

Had it not been for the work he did,

Many more would have gone to hell!

He supervised the building

Of the church we have today

And many a good Anglican

Has gone in there to pray

James Eades he built a grist mill

Flour for to make

As mostly all the women then

Their own bread, they did bake

He also ground the mash for cows

A finer grade for hogs and sows

John Smith, he was the barber then

He'd cut your hair for five and ten

If you felt the need to have a shave,

You him another ten cents gave

Jack McGuire was the butcher,

The animals he could kill

The slaughter house was by the creek,

Down below the hill

He had a room back of the shop,

Where the meat he did keep cool

He had a great big chopping block

Where he cut up the meat

Roasts and steaks, and also stew,

You could have whate'er you'd choose

Beef and veal and pork a lot

It was all cut up to fit the pot

There were many more I could recall

Too bad I can't mention them all

I feel this is enough for now,

So to my friends, I make a bow.