OTHER IMPORTED BALLADS AND SONGS
21. The Drowsy Sleeper 51
22. The Bamboo Briars 53
23. The Boston Burglar 57
24. The Butcher's Boy 60
25. The Death Op A Romish Lady 63
26. Johnny And Betsy 66
27. The Soldier 68
28. The Farmer's Boy 69
29. The Rich Young Farmer 71
30. The Lover's Return 73
31. 'the Prentice Boy 74
32. The Constant Farmer's Son 76
33. Mollie Bond 78
34. My Father's Gray Mare 80
35. Mary O' The Wild Moor 81
36. Father Grumble 82
37. Guy Fawkes 84
38. William Reilly's Courtship 86
39. Jack Riley 89
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OTHER IMPORTED BALLADS AND SONGS
21. (A) THE DROWSY SLEEPER
"Arouse, arouse, ye drowsy sleepers,
Arouse, arouse, 'tis almost day.
Open your door, your dining room window,
And hear what your true lover say."
"What is this that comes under my window,
A-speaking to me thus speedily?"
"It is your Jimmy, your own true Jimmy,
A-wanting to speak one word with thee."
"Go away from my window, you'll waken my father,
For he's taking of his rest.
Under his pillow there lies a weapon
To pierce the man that I love best.
"Go away from my window, you'll waken my mother,
For tales of war she will not hear.
Go away and court some other,
Or whisper lowly in my ear."
"I won't go away and court any other,
For here I do no harm;
I only want you from your own dear mother,
To wrap you in your lover's arms.
"I wish I was down in some lonesome valley,
Where I could neither see nor hear.
My food it should be grief and sorrow,
My drink it would be the briny tear.
"Down in a valley there lies a sharp arrow,
I wish I had it across my breast;
It would cut off all grief and sorrow,
And lay this troubled heart to rest."
(B) WILLIE AND MARY
"O who is at my bedroom window,
Who weeps and sighs so bitterly. . . .
"O Mary dear, go ask your mother,
If you my wedded bride may be;
And if she says 'Nay' then come and tell me,
And I no more will trouble thee."
"O Willie dear, I dare not ask her,
For she lies on her bed of rest;
And by her side there lies another. . . .
"0, Mary dear, go ask your father,
If you my wedded bride may be;
And if he says 'Nay' then come and tell me,
And I no more will trouble thee."
"O Willie dear, I dare not ask him,
For he is on his bed of rest;
And by his side there lies a dagger
To pierce the one that I love best."
Then Willie drew a silver dagger
And pierced it through his aching breast,
Saying, his farewell to his own true lover,
"Farewell, farewell, I am at rest."
Then Mary drew the bloody dagger
And pierced it through her snow-white breast,
Saying her farewell, "Dear father, mother,
Farewell, farewell, we're both at rest."
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22. (A) THE BAMBOO BRIARS
One night as they was sitting courting
Two villains overheard,
Saying, "This courtship it shall be ended,
We will send him along to his grave."
And to conclude this bloody murder
A-hunting these two villains did go.
They travelled over hills and hollows
And places too that was not known,
Until they came to the bamboo briars,
And there they killed him—killed and thrown.
It is "Dear brothers, where have you been? The reason I ask you seems to whisper— Dear brothers, tell me if you can." One night as she was lying weeping, He came to her in gory blood, Saying, "What do you weep for, you harmless creature? Your brothers killed me, killed and thrown. "And was by being both rash and cruel In such a place you can me find." She travelled over hills and hollows And places too that was not known, Until she came to the bamboo briars, And there she found him killed and thrown. She stayed three days, hunger came on her, Then she returned back home again. It is, "Dear sister where have you been? The reason we ask you seems to whisper, Dear sister, tell us if you can." "You are two hard-hearted, deceitful villains, For him alone you both shall swing." And, dear friends, if you'll believe me, The raging seas provide their grave. (B)
THE APPRENTICE BOY
In yon post-town there lived a margent,
He had two sons and a daughter fair:
There lived a 'prentice boy about there,
Who was the daughter's dearest dear.
Ten thousand pounds was this gay lady's portion;
She was a fair and a camelite dame;
She loved this young man who crossed the ocean;
He told her how he would be so deslain.
One day they was in the room a-courting;
The oldest brother chanced to hear;
He went and told the other brother,
They would deprive her of her dear.
Her brothers studied on this cruel matter,
Concluded a-hunting they would go,
And with this young man they both would flatter;
A-hunting with them he had to go.
They traveled over high hills and mountains
And through strange places where it were unknown,
Till at length they came to some lonesome valley,
And then they killed him dead and thrown.
All on that evening when they returned,
She asked them where's her servant-man;
"What makes me ask you?" she seems to whisper,
"Dear brothers, tell me if you can."
"He is lost in the wild woods a-hunting;
His face you never more shall see."
"I'll tell you in plain, you're much affronted;
Oh, now will you explain to me."
All on that night while she lay sleeping,
He came and stood at her bed-feet,
All covered o'er in tears a-weeping,
All wallowed o'er in gores of blood.
He says, "My love it's but a folly;
For this is me that you may see—
Your brothers both being rash and cruel—
In such a valley you may find."
All on next morning when she arose,
She dressed herself in silk so fine;
She traveled o'er high hills and mountains
Her own true-lover for to find.
She traveled o'er high hills and mountains
And through strange places where it were unknown,
Till at length she came to some lonesome valley
Till at length she came to a patch of briars,
And there she found him killed and thrown.
His pretty cheeks with blood were dyed;
His lips were bloody as any butcher.
His lips (cheeks) were salty as any brine;
She kissed them over and over a-crying,
"You dearest bosom friend of mine!"
Three days and night she tarried with him,
Till she thought her heart would break with woe,
Until sharp hunger came cropping on her,
Which forced her back home to go.
All on that evening when she returned,
Her brothers asked her where she'd been—
"O ye hard-hearted deceitful devillions,
For him alone you both shall swing."
Her brothers studied on this bloody matter
Concluded the ocean they would sail;
"My friend, I tell you, it's on the morrow
The raging sea there for to sail."
The sea began to roar, I think no wonder
That they two villyons should be cast away;
And broadways they came tosling under;
The sea did open and provide their grave.
23. (A) THE BOSTON BURGLAR
I was born in Boston, a place you all know well,
Brought up by honest parents, the truth to you I'll tell;
Brought up by honest parents and watched most tenderly,
Till I became a roving boy at the age of twenty-three.
For burglaring I was taken and I was sent to jail;
My friends they came to bail me out, but it was of no avail.
The judge then read my sentence, the clerk he wrote it down,
Said, "For seven long and weary years you're going to Jefferson town."
To see my aged father come pleading at the bar,
To see my aged mother a-pulling her gray hair,
Yes, pulling those gray locks, my boy, and the tears came streaming down,
Said she, "My son, what have you done? You're going to Jefferson town."
They put me on board an eastern train one cold and stormy day,
And every station that I passed I heard the people say,
"There goes that noted burglar, in iron he's bound down,
For robbing of the Boston bank he's going to Jefferson town."
There is a girl in Boston, I know she loves me well
If e'er I gain my liberty 'tis with this girl I'll dwell;
If e'er I gain my liberty, bad company I'll shun,
I'll bid adieu to night-walking and also drinking rum.
Come all you jolly fellows, a warning take of me,
And never go night-walking and shun bad company,
For if you do, you'll surely rue, and you'll be sent like me,
For robbing of the Boston bank to the penitentiary.
(B) CHARLESTOWN
I was born in Boston city,
A place you all know well,
Brought up by honest parents,
And the truth to you I'll tell,
Brought up by honest parents,
And reared most tenderly,
Till I became a roving lad
At the age of twenty-three.
My character was taken
And I was sent to jail;
My friends they tried to clear me,
But it was of no avail.
The clerk he read the charges,
While Russell wrote it down,
Saying, "For some noted crime, sir,
You are bound for Charlestown."
To see my poor old father
A-raving at the bar,
Likewise my kind old mother,
A-tearing out her hair,
While tearing out those old gray locks,
The tears came rolling down
Saying, "Son, O son, what has thou done?
You're bound for Charlestown."
I was shipped on board of an east-bound train,
One dark December day;
And every station I'd pass through
I'd hear the people say—
"There goes a noted burglar,
In irons he is bound,
And for some noted crime, sir,
He's bound for Charlestown."
There lived in Boston city
A girl that I loved well,
And if ever I gain my liberty
Along with her I'll dwell,
If ever I gain my liberty
Bad company I'll shun
And night-walking and gambling
And likewise all bad rum.
If you that have your liberty
Just keep it while you can,
And act upon the square, my boy
Obey the laws of man;
For if you don't you'll surely rue,
Your fate will surely be,
Six months in the house erect,
Or the penitentiary.
24. (A) THE BUTCHER'S BOY
In Jersey City where I did dwell
A butcher's boy I loved so well;
He courted me my heart away,
And now with me he will not stay.
There is a house in this same town,
Where my true love goes and sits him down,
He takes a strange girl on his knee,
And tells her what he won't tell me.
"Tis grief, 'tis grief, I'll tell you why,
Because she has more gold than I;
Her gold will melt and silver fly,
She'll see the day she's poor as I.
I went upstairs to make my bed,
And nothing to my mother said,
I took a chair and sit me down,
With pen and ink I wrote it down,
On every line I dropped a tear,
While calling home my Willy dear.
Her father he came home that night,
"Where, O where has my daughter gone?"
He went upstairs, the door he broke,
And found her hanging by a rope.
He took his knife to cut her down,
And on her bosom these lines he found:
"O what a foolish girl am I
To kill myself for a butcher's boy.
"Go dig my grave both wide and deep,
Place a marble stone at my head and feet.
Upon my breast a turtle dove
To show the world I died for love."
(B) THERE IS A TAVERN IN THE TOWN
There is a tavern in the town, in the town,
And there my dear love sits him down, sits him down,
And drinks his wine mid laughter free,
And never, never thinks of me.
Fare thee well for I must leave thee,
Do not let this parting grieve thee,
And remember that the best of friends must part, must part.
Adieu, adieu, kind friends, adieu,
I can no longer stay with you, stay with you,
I'll hang my harp on the weeping willow tree
And may the world go well with thee.
He left me for a damsel dark, damsel dark,
Each Friday night they used to spark, used to spark,
And now my love once true to me
Takes that dark damsel on his knee.
O dig my grave both wide and deep, wide and deep,
Put tombstones at my head and feet, head and feet,
And on my breast carve a turtle dove
To signify I died of love.
25. THE DEATH OF A ROMISH LADY
There lived a Romish lady
Brought up in proper array;
Her mother ofttimes told her
She must the priest obey.
"O pardon me dear mother
I humbly pray thee now
For unto these false idols
I can no longer bow."
Assisted by her handmaid,
Her bible she concealed
And there she gained instruction
Till God his love revealed.
No longer would she prostrate
The pictures decked with gold;
But soon she was betrayed
Her bible from her stold.
"I'll bow to my dear Jesus
And worship him unseen
And work by faith unfailing
The works of men are vain.
"I can not worship idols
Nor pictures made by men
Dear mother use your pleasure
But pardon if you can."
With grief and great veration
Her mother straight did go
To inform the Romish clergy
The source of all her woe.
The priests was soon assembled
And for the maid did call.
They forced her in a dungeon
To affright her soul withal.
The more they strove to affright her
The more she did endure
Although her age was tender
Her faith was firm and sure.
Her chains of gold so costly
They from the lady took
And she with all her spirit
The pride of life forsook.
Before the priests they brought her
In hope of her return
But there she was ordained
In horrid flames to burn.
Before the place of torment
They brought her speedily.
With lifted hands to heaven
She there agreed to die.
There being many ladies
Assembled at that place,
With lifted hands to heaven
She begged supporting grace.
"Weep not ye tender ladies,
Shed not a tear for me
Whilst my poor body's burning
My soul the Lord shall see.
"Yourselves you need to pity
On Zion's deep decay.
Dear ladies, turn to Jesus
No longer make delay."
In comes her raging mother,
Her daughter to behold;
And in her hand she brought
An image decked with gold.
"0 take from me those idols
Remove them from my sight.
Restore to me my Bible
In which I take delight.
"Alas, my aged mother
On my ruin bent,
It was her that did betray me;
But I am innocent.
"Tormentors, use your pleasure
And do as you think best.
I hope my blessed Jesus
Will take me home to rest."
Soon as these words were spoken
In comes the tyrant of death,
And kindled up the fire
To stop her mortal breath.
Instead of gold and bracelets,
With chains they bound her fast;
She cried aloud, "O Lord, give pardon,
Or else I sink at last.
"With Jesus and his angels
For ever I shall dwell.
God pardon priest and people
And so I bid farewell."
26. JOHNNY AND BETSY
There was an old woman who lived on the strand,
And Johnny was her only son,
And servant Betsy, beauty fair,
Drew his heart into a snare.
One evening Johnny took his time
To tell to her what was in his mind:
"O Betsy, 0 Betsy, I love you well!
I love you better than tongue can tell!
0 Betsy, 0 Betsy, I love you dear!"
His mother chanced these words to hear.
Then she resolved within her mind
To stop these two of their designs.
Early next morning when she arose
She says to Betsy, "Put on your clothes.
Go dress yourself," says she,
"And wait on me two days or three."
Then o'er the country they went, But Betsy knew not her intent. There was a ship lying in the down, And to Verginny it was bound, Where she sold Betsy across the main, And returned safe home to her son again. "You're welcome home, dear mother," he says,
"But where is Betsy behind you stayed?"
"0 son, 0 son, your love's in vain,
For we sold Betsy 'cross the main.
My son, my son," says she,
"You're bringing scandal on you and me.
1 would rather see your corpse lie dead
Than to marry Betsy, a servant maid."
"Then your desire you soon shall have,
If you'd rather see my corpse lie dead
Than to marry Betsy, a servant maid!"
Then he took sick, 0 very bad,
No mirth nor music could make him glad.
They sent for doctors far and near,
But none of them could Johnny cheer;
And every doctor tried their skill
Till at last they did poor Johnny kill.
And when she saw her son lie dead,
She rang her hands and tore her head,
Saying, "If life I once could bring again,
I'd send for Betsy across the main!
If life I once could bring again,
I would send for Betsy across the main!"
27. THE SOLDIER
I once knew a soldier just from the war,
He courted a lady for honor and for store;
The lady loved the soldier because he was so bold.
So great was her fortune it scarcely could be told.
"Now," said the lady, "I cannot be your wife,
For fear my wretched father would shortly end your life."
He drew a sword and pistol and hung them by his side
Saying, "We will get married and who will betide."
They went and got married and coming back again,
They met the wretched father with several armed men.
"Let's flee," said the lady, "for fear we will be killed."
"Hold on," said the soldier, "at fighting I am skilled."
Up stepped the old man, speaking very free,
Saying, "Do you intend to be a daughter unto me,
Or do you intend to be a soldier's wife?
Then in this lonesome valley I'll shortly end your life."
"Now," said the soldier, "I have no time to tattle,
I'm only one alone but I'm ready for the battle."
He drew his sword and pistol and caused them both to rattle.
The lady held the horses while the soldier fought the battle.
The first one he came to he run him through the brain,
The next one he came to he served him just the same.
"Hold on," said the old man, "Don't strike so bold,
And you can have my daughter and ten thousand pounds of gold."
28. THE FARMER'S BOY
The sun had set behind the hill across the dreary moor, When weary and lame a poor boy came up to a farmer's door.
"Pray tell to me if any there be to give to me employ, To plow and sow, to reap and mow, and to be a farmer's boy.
"My father's dead, my mother's left five children very small,
And what is worse for mother still I'm the eldest of them all,
Though little I be I fear no work if you will me employ, To plow to sow, to reap and mow and to be a farmer's boy.
"And if you will not me employ a favor I have to ask. Will you shelter me till the break of day from this cold
winter's blast? At the break of day I'll haste away elsewhere to seek
employ
To plow, to sow, to reap and mow, and to be a farmer's boy."
The farmer said, "Pray take the lad, no farther let him seek."
"0 yes, dear father," the daughter cried, while tears
ran down her cheek, Those that will work 'tis hard to want and wander for
employ,
To plow, to sow, to reap, to mow, and be a farmer's boy.
In course of time he grew to be a man. This good old farmer died,
And he left the lad the farm he had and the daughter for his bride.
Now the lad that was the farmer is, he oft times thinks with joy
Of the lucky day he came that way to be a farmer's boy, To plow, to sow, to reap and mow, and to be a farmer's boy.
29
THE RICH YOUNG FARMER
There was a rich young farmer,
And he was of high renown, He courted a fair and handsome daughter, As ever lived in England town.
When her parents came to know it,
It grieved their hearts full sore; They said they'd send him far over the ocean, Where he'd cease to love no more.
One morning, O one morning,
One morning just at dawn, As bold as a ranger and just like a stranger I met my true love a-walking along.
"Look up, look up, my pretty fair maiden,
0 can't you fancy me?" "0 no, kind sir, my fancy is a farmer, And has lately gone to sea."
"Describe him, 0 describe him,
Describe him unto me; For perhaps I saw a sword pass through him,
As I've lately been to sea."
"He is proper, neat, and handsome,
He is proper, neat, and tall, He has long black hair and he wears it platted,
Through a gay gold ring doth fall."
"0 yes, I saw him, and I know him,
His name is Thomas Hall; I saw a cannon ball pass through him, And thus, fair lady, your lover did fall."
She stood wringing her lily white hands, As though her heart would break. "Hush up, hush up, my pretty fair maiden, Perhaps I be the very man." She turned around and looked upon him,
She turned and looked again. She hopped and she flew and she ran unto him,
And embraced him by the hand.
They joined their loving hands together, And straight to the church did go, And married they never must each other, Whether their parents were willing or no. 30
THE LOVER'S RETURN
It was on one munday morning in may
Down by a flowery garden I chanced for to stray
I over heard a fair maid with sorrow to complain All on the banks of clowdy I am told she doth remain. I stepped away unto her I took her with surprise She owned she did not now me for I was in disguise Oh my handsom fair maid my joy and hearts delight How far have you to ramble this dark and rainy night Kind sir away to clowdy would you be pleased to show Be kind unto a fair miss for there I haf "to go
I am on the search for a young man and Ione is his name All on the banks of clowdy I am told he doth remain.
It's on the banks of clowdy on which you boldly stand For dont you believe young Ione for he will not meet you
O dont you believe young Ione for he is a faulse young man
So stay with me in the green groves no danger need fear.
If Ione he was here this night he would keep me from all harm
But he is in the field of battle dressed in his uniform He is in the field of Battle his foes he doth defy
He is like the kings of honor he is in the wars to try
It has been six months or better since Ione left the shore A sailing the wide ocian where raging billows rore
A sailing the wide ocian with horror and great gain The ship has been recked as I have been told all on the cost of Spain.
When she heard this dreadful she sunk into dispair A ringing of her hands and a taring of her hair Saying if Ione he is drowned no other will I take In some lonesome grove or vally I will die for his sake. When he beheld her royalty he could no longer stand He flew into her arms crying Betsy I am the man I am your royal true love the cause of all your pain And since we have met on dowdy's banks we never shall part again.
31
THE PRENTICE BOY
As low in Cupid's garden for pleasure I did walk I heard two loyal lovers most sweetly for to talk It was a briske yong lady and her prentice boy And in private they were courting and he was all her joy He said dear honord lady I am your prentice boy How ever can I thinke a fair lady to enjoy
His cheeks as red as roses his humor kind and free She said dear youth if ever I wed I'll surely mary thee. But when her parents came this for to understand They did this young man banish to some foreign land While she lay broken hearted lamenting she did cry For my honest charming prentice a maid I'll live and die This young man to a merchant a waiting man was bound
And by his good behaviour good fortune there he found He soon became his butler which prompted him to faim And for his careful conduct the steward he became For a ticket in a lottery his money he put down And there he gained a prize of twenty thousand pound With store of gold and silver he packed up his close indeed And to England returned to his true love with speed
He offered kind embraces but she flew from his arms No lord duke or nobleman shall ever endure my charms The love of gold is cursed great riches I decry For my honest charming prentice a maid I'll live and and die He said dear honord lady I have been in your arms This is the ring you gave me for toying in your charms You vowed if every you maried your love I should enjoy Your father did me banish I was your prentice boy
When she beheld his features she flew into his arms With kisses out of measure she did enjoy his charms Then so through Cupid's garden a road to church they found
And there in virtuous pleasure in hymen's band was bound.
32
THE CONSTANT FARMER'S SON
There was a farmer's daughter near Dublin town did dwell,
So modest, fair and handsome, her parents loved her well;
She was admired by lord and dukes, but all their hopes were vain.
There was but one, a farmer's son, young Mary's heart could gain.
Long time young Willie courted her and fixed their wedding day;
Her parents both they gave consent, but her brothers they did say:
"There lives a lord that pledged his word, and if you do him shun,
We will betray and then will slay your constant farmer's son."
There was a fair not far from home, her brothers went straightway
And asked Willie's company to pass the time away. But, mark, returning home at night they swore his race was run,
And with a stake the life did take of her constant farmer's son.
As Mary on her pillow lay she dreamed a dismal dream, She dreamt she saw her true love's gore; the blood
appeared in streams; She then arose, put on her clothes, to seek her love did
run,
When dead and cold she did behold her constant farmer's son.
The bitter tears ran down her cheeks and mingled with his gore,
She cried in vain to ease her pain and kissed him o'er and o'er;
She gathered green leaves from off the trees to shade
him from the sun, And one night and day was passed away with her
constant farmer's son.
But hunger it came creeping on, poor girl she cried with woe,
And for to find his murderers she straightway home did go,
Saying, "Parents dear, you soon shall hear of a shocking
deed that's done. In yonder vale lies dead and pale my constant farmer's
son."
Then up bespoke her eldest brother, saying, "Indeed
it was not me." The same replied her youngest brother and cursed most
bitterly.
"Brothers," she said, "don't turn so red or try the law to shun;
You did the deed and sore you will bleed for my constant farmer's son."
These villains then did own their guilt and for the same did die;
Young Mary fair in deep despair, she never ceased to cry;
Her parents both they vanished away for their span of life was run;
Young Mary cried and of sorrow died for her constant farmer's son.
33. Mollie Brand
Come all you young men who handle a gun, Be warned of shooting after the down sun. A story I'll tell you; it happened of late, Concerning Mollie Bond, whose beauty was great. Mollie Bond was out walking, and a shower came on; She sat under a beech tree the showers to shun. Jim Random was out hunting, a-hunting in the dark; He shot at his true love and missed not his mark.
With a white apron pinned around her he took her for a swan,
He shot and killed her, and it was Mollie Bond.
He ran to her; these words to her he said; And a fountain of tears on her bosom he shed. Saying, "Mollie, dear Mollie, you're the joy of my life; I always intended to make you my wife." Jim ran to his uncle with his gun in his hand, Saying, "Uncle, dear uncle, I've killed Mollie Bond.
"With her apron pinned around her, I took her for a swan;
I shot and killed her, and it was Mollie Bond."
Up stepped his dear uncle with his locks all so gray, Saying, "Stay at home, Jimmie, and do not run away. "Stay in your own country till your trial comes on; You shall not be molested if it costs me my farm." The day of Jimmy's trial Mollie's ghost did appear, Saying to this jury, "Jim Random come clear! "With my apron pinned around me he took me for a swan]
He shot and killed me and now I am gone."
34
MY FATHER'S GRAY MARE
Young Roger the miller went courting of late A farmer's fair daughter called Kate. Her cheeks like vermilion all painted with love, She was buxom and bonny and sweet as a dove. Then Roger being greedy, I do declare, He spied the nag they called the gray mare. "As for your daughter I solemnly swear,
I won't have your daughter without the gray mare."
The old man rose up with anger and speed,
"I thought you'd have married my daughter indeed.
"But since it is so I am glad it is thus,
My money once more I'll put up in my purse.
"As for my daughter I solemnly swear
You can't have my daughter, no nor the gray mare."
When six months were ended, or something above Young Roger he chanced to meet with his love. "0," smiling, said Roger, "and don't you know me?" "If I ain't mistaken, I've seen you," said she. "A man of your likeness, with long yellow hair, Did once come a-courting my father's gray mare." 35
MARY 0' THE WILD MOOR
'Twas on a cold winter's night
When the wind blew across the wild moor, That Mary came wandering home with her child,
Till she came to her own father's door. "O father, dear father," she cried, "Come down and open the door, Or the child in my arms will perish and die, By the winds that blow 'cross the wild moor."
"0 why did I leave this dear cot,
Where once I was happy and free? But now I must roam without friends or home, No one to take pity on me!" Her father was deaf to her cries, Not a sound of her voice reached his ear; But the watch dog he howled and the village bell tolled,
And the winds blew across the wild moor.
O how must that old man have felt When he came to the door in the morn; Poor Mary was dead, but her child was alive, Closely pressed in its dead mother's arms. Half frantic he tore his gray hair,
And the tears down his cheeks they did pour, For on that bitter night she had perished and died,
From the winds that blew 'cross the wild moor.
The old man in grief pined away,
And the child to its mother went soon; And no one, they say, has lived there to this day,
And the cottage to ruin has gone. The villagers point to the spot
Where the ivy hangs over the door, Saying, "There Mary died, once a gay village bride,
By the winds that blow 'cross the wild moor."
36
FATHER GRUMBLE
Father Grumble he did say,
As sure as the moss round a tree, That he could do more work in a day
Than his wife could do in three, three,
Than his wife could do in three.
Then Mother Grumble she did say,
"0 what's the row now? You can stay in the house and work,
And I will follow the plow, plow,
And I will follow the plow.
"But don't forget the jar of cream That stands within the frame, frame; And don't forget the fat in the pot, Or it will go into flame, flame; And don't forget the fat in the pot, Or it will all go into flame. "Don't forget the muley-cow, For fear she will go dry, dry; And don't forget the little pigs That lie within the sty, sty; And don't forget the little pigs That lie within the sty. "Don't forget the speckled hen, For fear she'll lay astray, astray; And don't forget the skein of yarn That I spin every day, day; And don't forget the skein of yarn That I spin every day." He went to churn the jar of cream That stood within the frame, frame; And he forgot the fat in the pot, And it all went into flame, flame; And he forgot the fat in the pot, And it all went into flame. He went to milk the muley-cow, For fear she would go dry, dry; She reared, she kicked, she faunched, she flinched,
She hit him over the eye, eye; She reared, she kicked, she faunched, she flinched,
She hit him over the eye.
He went to watch the speckled hen,
For fear she'd lay astray, astray; And he forgot the skein of yarn
That she spun every day; And he forgot the skein of yarn
That she spun every day.
Old Father Grumble coming in
And looking very sad, sad, Old Mother Grumble clapped her hands And said that she was very glad, glad; Old Mother Grumble clapped her hands And said that she was very glad.
37
GUY FAWKES
I'll tell you a doleful tragedy— Guy Fawkes, the prince of sinisters, Who once blew up the House of Lords, The King and all his ministers; That is, he would have blown them up, And we would ne'er forget him,
His will was good to do the deed, If they had only let him. Singing bow—wow—wow, Whack fol—de—riddle, Singing bow—wow—wow. Straightway he came from Lambeth side
And wished the State was undone; And crossing over Vauxhall bridge
That way he came to London; That is, he would have crossed the bridge To perpetrate his guilt, sir, But a trifling thing prevented him, The bridge it was not built, sir.
And as he searched the dreary vaults
With portable gas light, sir, About to touch the powder train
At the witching hour of night, sir; That is, he would have used the gas, Had he not been prevented; But gas you know, in James's time, It hadn't been invented.
Now, when they caught him in the act, So very near the Crown's end,
They sent straightway to Bow Street for That gay old runner Townsend;
That is, they would have sent for him
For danger he's no starter at, But Townsend wasn't living then, He wasn't born till arter that. So then they put poor Guy to death
For ages to remember; And now they kill him every year In dreary dark November; That is, his effigy, I mean, For truth is strange and steady, They cannot put poor Guy to death For he is dead already.
38
WILLIAM REILLY'S COURTSHIP
'Twas on a pleasant morning all in the bloom of spring When as the cheerful songsters in concert sweet did sing,
The primrose and the daisy bespangled every dawn In an arbor I espied my dear Coolen Bawn. I stood awhile amazed, quite struck with surprise, On her with rapture gazed while from her bright eyes She shot such killing glances my heart away was drawn. She ravished all my senses, my fair Coolen Bawn. I tremblingly addressed her: "Hail, matchless fair maid! You have with grief oppressed me and I am much afraid.
Except you'll cure my anguish which now is in its dawn, You'll cause my sad overthrow, my sweet Coolen Bawn."
Then with a gentle smile she replied unto me.
"I cannot tyrannize, dear Willie, over thee. My father he is wealthy and gives severe command;
If you but gain his favor, I'll be your Coolen Bawn."
In raptures I embrace her; we swore eternal love, And nought should separate us except the power above.
I hired with her father and left my friends and land That with pleasure I might gaze on my fair Coolen Bawn.
I served him twelve months right faithful and just, Although not used to labor, was true to my trust. I valued not my wages, I would not it demand, For I could live for ages with my Coolen Bawn. One morning as her father and I walked out alone, I asked him for his daughter saying: "Sir, it is well known I have a well-stocked farm, five hundred pound in hand Which I'll share with your daughter, my fair Coolen Bawn."
Her father full of anger most scornfully did frown, Saying, "Here are your wages. Now, sir, depart from this town."
Increasing still his anger he bid me quick begone, "For none but a rich squire shall wed my Coolen Bawn."
I went unto his daughter and told her my sad tale. Oppressed with grief and anger we both did weep and wail.
She said, "My dearest Reilly, the thought I can't withstand
That in your sorrow you should leave me, your own dear Coolen Bawn."
A horse I did get ready in the silent night.
Having no other remedy, we quickly took our flight. The horse he chanced to stumble and threw both along,
Confused and solely bruised me and my dear Coolen Bawn
Again we quickly mounted and swiftly rode away. O'er hills and lofty mountains we travelled night and day.
Her father quickly pursued us with his well chosen band,
And I was overtaken with my fair Coolen Bawn.
Committed straight to prison there to lament and wail, And utter my complaints to a dark and dismal jail,
Loaded with heavy irons till my trial should come on, But I'll bear their utmost malice for my dear Coolen Bawn.
If it should please kind fortune once more to set me free, For well I know my charmer is constant unto me, Spite of her father's anger, his cruelty and scorn, I hope to wed my heart's delight, my dear Coolen Bawn. 39
JACK RILEY
Jack Riley is my true love's name;
He lives down by the sea, And he is as nice a young man As e'er my eyes did see.
My father he is rich and great,
Jack Riley he is poor; And because I loved my sailor boy He would not me endure.
My mother took me by the hand;
These words to me did say, "If you be fond of Riley, You must leave this counteray.
"For your father says he will take his life,
And that without delay. So you must either go abroad, Or shun his company."
"0 mother dear, don't be severe.
Where shall I send my love? For if father kills Jack Riley
I will meet him up above."
"0 daughter dear, I'm not severe.
Here is one thousand pounds. Send Riley to Amerikay,
To purchase there some grounds."
---------------------------
NOTES
21. (A) The Drowsy Sleeper. Text from a manuscript book of songs from oral transcription, the property of Edna Fulton Waterman of Lincoln, Nebraska. For this piece, see H. M. Belden, Archiv far das Studium der neueren Sprachen, vol. 119, pp. 430-431.
(B) Willie And Mary. Text known to Mrs. I. E. Diehl of Robinson, Utah, 1914.
22. (A) The Bamboo Briars. Text from H. M. Belden, who had it from Miss Frances Barbour of Washington University, who had it from the singing of Minnie Doyle of Arlington, Phelps County, Missouri, in 1917. For the history of this song, and variant texts, see H. M. Belden, "Boccaccio, Hans Sachs, and The Bramble Briar," Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, vol. 33, p. 327. 1918.
(B) The Apprentice Boy. Text of H. G. Shearin. See "British Ballads in the Cumberland Mountains," The Sewanee Review, vol. 19, p. 321. July, 1911.
23. (A) The Boston Burglar. Text obtained by L. C. Wimberly from Mrs. E. N. Hardin, of Missouri Valley, Iowa, in 1916. Compare The Sheffield Apprentice, Campbell and Sharp, English Folk Songs from th,t Southern Appalachians, p. 278. A text of this song from Michigan adapts it, with a minimum of changes, to fit a local -crime and criminal in Michigan.
(B) Charleston. Text obtained from Harry Gear, Junction, Wyoming, 1914.
24. (A) The Butcher's Boy. Text obtained by Lillian Gear Boswell at Hartville, Wyoming, 1914. Related to The Brisk Young Lover, Broadwood, Traditional Songs and Carols (1908), p. 92. See alao, Campbell and Sharp, p. 286.
(B) There Is A Tavebn In The Town. From a manuscript book of songs in the possession of L. C. Wimberly. 1916. This well-known college song is a variant of, or is somehow related to, The Brisk Young Lover and The Butcher's Boy.
25. The Death Of A Romish Lady. From a manuscript book of orally transcribed pieces, the property of Edna Fulton Waterman of Lincoln, Nebraska. This piece has been found also in Missouri and in the Cumberland Mountains. It is the "It was a lady's daughter of Paris properly" mentioned in Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle (1613), V. iii. A text from the time of Charles II appears in The Roxburgh Ballads, vol. I, p. 43.
26. Johnny And Betsy. Text of Mrs. Mary F. Lindsay of Hebron, Nebraska. 1915. Compare Firth, An American Garland (1915), p. 69. A text from California is printed in The Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. 19, p. 130, but the account there given of the origin of the song is doubtful.
27. The Soldier. Text from Mrs. B. B. Wimberly, 1916, who learned it in Louisiana. Compare Campbell and Sharp, The Lady and the Dragoon, p. 161. The same story is told in the last part of The Masterpiece of Love Songs in John Ashton's A Century of Ballads (1887), p. 164. Professor Tolman has pointed out that the story somewhat resembles that of Erlinton, Child, No. 8.
28. The Farmer's Boy. Text from Miss Frances Francis of Cheyenne, Wyoming, who had it from her father, who described it as "brought from Newcastle, England, as early as 1870." Known also in Missouri.
29. The Rich Youno Farmer. From Edna Fulton Waterman's manuscript book of ballads, in which it is transcribed as "Written by Marcelia Polk at E. Spencer's school, the 23rd of February, 1857." Compare H. G. Shearin's William Hall from the Cumberland mountains. For ballads current in America on the theme of the returned lover, see H. M. Belden, Archiv fur das Studium der neueren Sprachen und Literaturen, vol. 120, p. 62.
30. The Lover's Return. From Mrs. Waterman's manuscript book of songs. Reproduced literatim. A version of the widely current The Banks of Cloudy. See Journal of American Folk-Lore vol. 26, p. 362. 1913.
31. The Prentice Boy. From Mrs. Waterman's manuscript book of ballads from Indiana, in which it bears the date 1844. Reproduced literatim. Compare The Lady and the Prentice, Baring-Gould, Songs of the West (1913), p. 219. For American variants see The Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. 26, p. 363. 1913.
32. The Constant Farmer's Son. Text from L. C. Wimberly of Lincoln, Nebraska, in 1916. H. M. Belden prints a text in The Seuxmee Review, vol. 19, p. 222, and in the Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, vol. 33, p. 367, 1918; and W. R. Mackenzie in The Quest of the Ballad.
33. Mollie Bond. Miss Loraine Wyman's text, printed by G. L. Kittredge in the Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. 30, p. 359. Compare "Polly Bam" in The Shooting of His Dear, Campbell and Sharp, p. 159. Known also as "Polly Vann," "Molly Baun," "Polly Vaughn," etc. According to Professor Kittredge, this piece is at least as old as the eighteenth century. Possibly it is much older. The transformation of the girl into a swan and her appearance in court in some of the British versions (instead of as a ghost in certain American versions) point to early origin. See At the Setting of the Sun in Baring-Gould's Songs of the West, p. 129.
34. My Father's Gray Make. Text obtained from Vivian Cleaver Cleveland of Lincoln, Nebraska, in 1917. Compare BaringGould, Songs of the West, p. 105 (1913), Kidson, Traditional Tunes, etc.
35. Mary O' The Wild Moor. Text transcribed by Mrs. Nellie B. Pickup of Lincoln, Nebraska, in 1914, from the singing of her mother, who learned it in her childhood in New York. It is included in Helen K. Johnson's Our Familiar Songs (1904), p. 303. See also Kidson's Traditional Tunes (1891), p. 77.
36. Father Grumble. Text obtained from Miss Jeanne Allen of Seneca, Kansas, in 1914. Known also as "Old Grumble," "The Drummer and his Wife" (Campbell and Sharp, p. 308), etc. The song is no recent one. See Kittredge's annotation, Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. 26, p. 366, 1913.
37. Guy Fawkes. Text known to A. J. Leach of Oakdale, Antelope County, Nebraska, 1914, who learned it as a boy in Michigan. A much better known Guy Fawkes song begins, "O don't you remember the fifth of November."
38. William Reilly's Courtship. From Edna Fulton Waterman's manuscript ballad book.
39. Jack Riley. Obtained by Frances Botkin and Zora Schaupp from Mrs. Adna Dobson of Lincoln, Nebraska, who learned it in England.