
A depiction of Volga boatmen. The chant "Yo, Heave Ho" is based on this.
Yo! A Russian Version!
English Translation
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more
Now we fell the stout birch tree,
Now we pull hard: one, two, three.
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Now we fell the stout birch tree
As the barges float along,
To the sun we sing our song.
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
To the sun we sing our song.
Hey, hey, let's heave a-long the way
to the sun we sing our song
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Once more, once again, still once more
Volga, Volga our pride,
Mighty stream so deep and wide.
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Ay-da, da, ay-da!
Volga, Volga you're our pride.
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho
Once more, once again, still once more
Yo, heave ho!
Yo, heave ho!
Combat in World War II gave G.I.s plenty of opportunities to heave (supplies, cargo, etc.) and to heave in the sense of throwing up. Comments of an ex-G.I. regarding this are given below.
As infantrymen in World War II, us G.I.s would sometimes chant "Yo Heave Ho"—from "The Volga Boatmen"—to coordinate our efforts. A tremendously welcome change from the usual "Hut 2 3 4! Hut 2 3 4!..." Searching, I found only one good version of it... in Russian, presented above.
In connection with this the subject of dry heaves comes up. Just the subject. Nothing else. Dictionary definition: to have throw up convulsions but nothing comes out.
Knew about these, it seems, from an early age, but experienced them on one occasion only. Thinking back, it surprises me that they were not wet heaves. In WW II plenty of opportunities presented themselves but for me they occurred in maximum force only at Landsberg, Germany. Note "berg," not "burg." A tremendous hill, a mount, juts up right out of the flat plain. It was there that our regiment liberated seven concentration camps. The sight and stench of corpses on the ground and living corpses barely breathing and moving by their side or wandering aimlessly, zombie-like about was horrible.
Barely recovered sufficiently from recollections of the horror of it all to sign off, I do so as
Yours truly,
Wendell
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