306
Poor Little Ellen ; or, Ellen Smith
This piece, with the title 'Poor Little Ellen; or, Ellen Smith,'
has the same general background as the preceding. It has few
lines in common with it, however, and introduces new particulars.
The third stanza is reminiscent of the traditional ballad way of
saying ncz^cr (as in 'Jamie Douglas,' Child, No. 204 — "Whan cockle
shells turn silver bells, /And mussels they bud on a tree"). The
whole seems more traditional than the preceding ballad, but it has
not gone so far in that direction as the Ellen Smith ballad printed
by Combs in FSMEU 219-22.
'Poor Little Ellen ; or, Ellen Smith.' Collected by Miss Isabel Rawn,
of Hampton, now Ruth, Rutherford county, in 1915, from an unnamed
informant.
Early one Monday morning
So lonely and cold,
To hear that sad story
The w^itness has told.
Oh, little Ellen Smith, she sleeps lonely
With her hands upon her breast,
And the high sheriff and bloodhounds
Will give me no rest.
I haven't been back home,
And I never intend to be.
Till a sweet apple grows
On a sour apple tree.
NORTH CAROLINA BALLADS 717
4 I didn't intend to marry her
Or to make her my wife,
But loved hear so dearly
To take her sweet life.
5 Little Ellen Smith
She was true as a dove.
Oh where did she wander,
And who did she love?
6 The roads they were muddy.
And the rain was pouring down,
When a ball from my pistol
Brought Ellen to the ground.
7 They carried me to Winston "
My trial there to stand,
But God knows my heart
And he knows every vow.
8 It's true that I am prisoner
And in the old jail house,
But the blood from her breast
Will give me no rest.