Gus Hepditch

Gus was born somewhere around 1890. During his lifetime, he became a legend among the residents of Placentia Bay. A hearty old fellow, always ready for a yarn or a drop of grog, a dreamer, a teller of “wonders”, and a dauntless seafarer, Gus was a friend of all, young and old alike. He was married to Letitia Connors and raised two daughters and three sons.

Night times and Sunday afternoons, just about every man and young fellow in the harbour, ended up at Gus’ to have a chat with the boys, have a game of cards, but most of all to hear one of Gus' yarns, and of course his famous dreams. Jim Ennis, a very close friend of Gus, can do an excellent job on these “yarns”, and it is very difficult to put them into print and do them justice, as only Jim can do, but we will have to try and get one in like the time Gus contracted the measles during the height of the fishing season. During the night while he was in bed with his wife and six-week old son, his temperature was so high that he became delirious. He thought that he was out on the White Sail: “Time to heave out the killick" mutters Gus. He whips up his infant son, Francis, and heaves him out of bed. “Sawin' away, sawin' away, like you would” says Gus, “woppin it into Teesh every saw - boat nearly loaded with fish. By and by I comes to me senses - looks over in the corner, and there's the poor child screechin' his head off and Teesh black and blue.”

Sitting On The Stile Mary

(This song was sung by Joe Casey)

I‘m sitting on the stile Mary where we sat side by side,
On a bright May morning long ago when first you were my bride,
The corn was springing fresh and green and the lark sang loud on high,
The smile was on your lips Mary, the love light in your eyes.

The place has little changed Mary the days are bright as then,
The lark's loud song is in the air and the corn is green again. 
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand and your breath warm on my cheek,
I’m listening for the words Mary you never more will speak.

Just take a step down yonder lane a little church stands near,
The church where we were wed Mary you can see its tower from here.
The graveyard lies where Mary sleeps and my steps might break your rest,
Where l laid you darling down to sleep with your baby on your breast.

I'm very lonely now Mary for the poor makes no new friends,
But oh l love them better for the few our father sends,
You were all l had Mary my blessing and my pride,
There's no one left to care for me since my poor Mary died.

I’m bidding you a fond farewell my Mary fond and true,
I’ll not forget you darling in the land l’m going to,
They say there’s bread and work for all and the sun shines always there,
But I'll not forget old Ireland where it's fifty times as fair.

And oftimes in the grand old woods I’ll sit and close my eyes,
And my mind will wander back again to the place where Mary lies,
I think I'll see that grand old stile where we sat side by side,
The springing corn on a bright May morn when first you were my bride.