i8o
Father Grumble
This is perhaps the best title for those versions of the story of
the farmer turned housewife that are traditional in this country.
For the history of the story in ballad print, se» Kittredge's note in
JAFL XXVI 364-5 ; for its appearance as traditional song, see BSM
225, and add to the references there given Massachusetts (FSONE
248-50), Virginia (FSV 162-3), Arkansas (OFS i 321-3), Mis-
souri (OFS I 318-20), Ohio (BSO 135-6), and Michigan (BSSM
415-16). St. John Honeywood of Massachusetts about a hundred
and fifty years ago dressed it up as 'Darby and Joan,' and his
version has achieved something like traditional currency; at least,
a text clearly enough derived from it is one of the items in our
North Carolina collection.
^ The Vermont text makes this intelligible : "It was the young hatter
that gave him the cause." The manuscript has 'hater' for 'hatter'
throughout. The refrain is repeated after each stanza.
A
'Darby and Joan.' Reported by Miss Amy Henderson of Worry, Burke
county. This is clearly Honeywood's piece, though it has suffered some
slight losses in its descent through the memory of singers. It is in
couplets of four-stress lines, the favorite verse form of eighteenth-century
tales and apologues.
When Darby saw the setting sun,
He swung his scythe and home he run ;
Sat down, drank off his pint, and said,
'My work is done ; I'll go to bed.'
' "My work is done," ' retorted Joan,
' "My work is done" your constant tone ;
But helpless woman ne'er can say
"My work is done" till judgment day.'
Here Darby hemmed and scratched his head
To answer what his Joan had said.
But all in vain ; her clack went on.
'Yes, woman's work is never done.'
At early dawn, ere Phoebus rose,
Old Joan resumed her tale of woes,
When Darby said: 'I'll end the strife.
Be you the man and I the wife.
Take you the scythe and mow, while I
Will all your boasted cares supply,'
'Content,' quoth Joan ; 'give me thy flint.'
This Darby did, and out she went.
Darby arose and seized the broom
And whirled the dirt about the room.
Which having done, he scarce knew how,
He tried to milk the brindle cow ;
The brindle cow whisked round her tail
In Darby's eyes, and kicked the pail.
The clown, perplexed with grief and pain.
Swore he'd ne'er try to milk again.
When, turning round in sad amaze,
He saw his cottage in a blaze ;
For, as he chanced to brush the room
In careless haste, he fired the broom.
The fire at last subdued, he swore
The broom and he should meet no more.
Pressed by misfortune and perplexed.
Darby prepared for breakfast next ;
But what to get he scarcely knew ;
The bread was spent, the butter too.
His hands bedaubed with paste and flour
Old Darby laboured full an hour,
But, hapless wight, he could not make
OLDER BALLADS MOSTLY BRITISH 447
The bread take form of loaf or cake.
As every door wide open stood
In came the sow in quest of food
And, stunibHng onward, with her snout
Overset the churn ; the cream ran out.
As Darby turned the sow to beat
The sHppery cream betrayed his feet ;
He caught the bread trough in his fall
And down came Darby, trough and all.
The children, wakened by the clatter,
Start up and cry, 'La. what's the matter?'
Old Jowler barked, the tabby mewed,
And hapless Darby brawled aloud :
'Return, my Joan, as heretofore ;
I'll play the housewife's part no more.
Since now, by sad experience taught.
Compared to thine my work is naught.
Henceforth as business calls I'll take,
Content, the plough, the scythe, the rake.
And never will transgress the line
Our fates have marked, while thou art mine.
I'll vex thy honest soul no more
By scolding as I've done before.
Let each our proper task attend,
Forgive the past, and try to mend.'
'Old Summerfield.' This text also was secured by Miss Henderson. It
■differs from A (as do also the other versions following), being in the
tradition of other texts secured in America, which go back apparently
to the Scottish form 'John Grumlie.'
1 Old Summerfield swore by the sun and the moon
And the green leaves on the tree
That he could do more work in one day
Than his wife could do in three.
2 'Be it so,' the old woman said,
'But that I'll not allow.
You can stay in the house today
And I'll go follow the plow.
3 'You must milk the Teeny cow.
For fear she does go dry ;
And you must feed the little pigs
That are within the sty.
4 'You must watch the speckled hen,
For fear she lays astray ;
And you must wind the bobbin of thread
That I spun yesterday.'
448 NORTH CAROLINA FOLKLORE
5 The old woman took her staff in her hand
To go and follow the plow.
The old man took the pail in his hand
To milk the Teeny cow.
6 Tenny inched and Teeny winced
And Teeny curled her tail ;
She gave the old man such a kick in the face
It made him drop his pail,
7 *Wosh, Teeny, soo, Teeny,
My good little cow, stand still.
If ever 'I do milk you again
It'll be against my will.'
8 The old man took the tray on his head
To give the pigs their hire ;
The old sow ran between his legs
And threw him in the mire,
9 The old man watched the speckled hen
For fear she laid astray,
But forgot to wind the bobbin of thread
That his wife spun yesterday.
10 Old Summerfield swore by the sun and the moon
And the green leaves on the tree
That his wife could do more work in one day
Than he could do in three.
No title. Communicated by Mamie Mansfield, a Trinity College stu-
dent; date not noted. Essentially the same text as B; but Tenny jumped
and ran round the hill instead of kicking the old man in the face, and
when the sow ran under him she "kicked him up sky-high" instead of
throwing him into the mire.
'Old Summa.' From Miss Carrie Strope. Only a four-stanza fragment,
agreeing so far as it goes with B.