MISCELLANEOUS BALLADS AND SONGS
91. The Pretty Mohea 197
92. Katie's Secret 198
93. Mary And Willie 200
94. Kitty Wells 202
95. Pastoral Elegy 203
96. The Courtship Of Billy Grimes 205
97. Fair Fanny Moore 206
98. I Wish I Was Single Again 207
99. I'll Not Marry At All 208
100. Rosen The Bow 209
101. Evalina 211
102. My Blue-eyed Boy 212
103. The Old Gray Mule 213
104. I Will Tell You Of A Fellow 214
105. The Preacher's Legacy 216
106. The Spanish Cabineer 218
107. The Two Drummers 218
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MISCELLANEOUS BALLADS AND SONGS
91
THE PRETTY MOHEA
As I went out walking for pleasure one day, In sweet recreation to while time away; As I sat amusing myself on the grass, O who should I spy but a fair Indian lass. She sat down beside me, and taking my hand Said "You are a stranger and in a strange land; But if you will follow you're welcome to come And dwell in the cottage that I call my home." The sun was fast sinking far o'er the blue sea, When I wandered alone with my pretty Mohea. Together we wandered, together did rove, Till we come to the cot in the cocoanut grove. Then this kind expression she made unto me: "If you will consent, sir, to stay here with me And go no more roving upon the salt sea, I'll teach you the language of the lass of Mohea. "0 no, my dear maiden, that never could be; For I have a true love in my own country; And I'll not forsake her for I know she loves me, And her heart is as true as the pretty Mohea." 'Twas early one morning, a morning in May, That to this fair maiden these words I did say: "I'm going to leave you, so farewell my dear;
My ship's sails are spreading and home I must steer."
The last time I saw her she stood on the strand; And as the boat passed her she waved me her hand, Saying, "When you have landed with the girl that you love, Think of little Mohea in the cocoanut grove."
And then when I landed on my own native shore, With friends and relations around me once more, I gazed all about me—Not one could I see That was fit to compare with the little Mohea. And the girl that I trusted proved untrue to me; So I'll turn my course backward far o'er the deep sea. I'll turn my course backward; from this land I'll flee; I'll go spend my days with my pretty Mohea. 92
(A) KATIE'S SECRET
The sunlight is beautiful, mother,
And bloom the flowers today; And birds in the branches of hawthorne Were carolling ever so gay; And down by the rock in the meadow The rill ripples by with a song, And, mother, I too have been singing The merriest all the day long.
Last night I was weeping, dear mother,
Last night I was weeping alone, This world seemed so dark and so dreary My heart felt as heavy as stone. I thought of the lonely and loveless, So lonely and loveless was I; I scarcely know why it was, mother, But thought I was wishing to die.
Last night I was weeping, dear mother,
When Willie came down to the gate, And whispered, "Come out in the moonlight, I've something to say to you, Kate." And, mother, to him I am dearer Than all this wide world beside, For he told me to sit in the moonlight, And called me his darling, his bride.
So now I will gather my roses,
And twine them in my long braided hair; And Willie will come in the evening And smile when he sees me so fair. And down by the brookside we'll ramble Way down by the great hawthorne tree; And, mother, I wonder if any Were ever so happy as we.
(B) THE HAWTHORNE TREE
Last night I was sleeping, dear mother, When Willie came down by the gate;
He whispered, "Come out in the moonlight, I've something to say to you, Kate." We wandered way down in the bushes, 'Neath the tall old hawthorne tree, 0, mother, I wonder if any were Ever so happy as we! And, mother, to him I am dearer
Than all in this wide world beside. He told me so, out in the moonlight, i He called me his darling, his bride.
And soon they will gather wild flowers,
To twine in my long braided hair; Then Willie will come in the evening
And smile when he sees me so fair.
93
MARY AND WILLIE
As Mary and Willie sat by the sea shore,
Their last farewell to take, Said Mary to Willie, "You're now going to sea,
I fear that my fond heart will break." "O don't be despairing," young Willie then said,
And pressed his fair maid to his side; "My absence don't mourn, for when I return,
I'll make little Mary my bride."
Three years having passed without any news,
As Mary stands by her own door, An old beggar came by with a patch on his eye, And did for her pity implore. "Fair lady," cried he, "your charity bestow, And I'll tell your fortune beside; The lad whom you mourn will never return To make little Mary his bride."
"O if it be true you tell unto me,
My Willie, my hero, still lives, 0 if it be true, straightway unto you, All the money I have I will give." "He is living," quoth he, "all in poverty; He has been shipwrecked beside; He'll return no more because he is poor, To make little Mary his bride."
"May the heavens above know the joy that I feel,
And for his misfortune I'll mourn; He's welcome to me, all in poverty,
With his blue jacket tattered and torn." The beggar threw by the patch from his eye, Likewise the crutch from his side; Blue jacket and trousers and cheeks like a rose, Young Willie stood by Mary's side.
"Forgive me, fair lady, forgive me," he cried,
"It was only your love that I tried; To the church we'll away before close of day, To make little Mary my bride. I've money in plenty and riches untold, I never was shipwrecked beside; In coaches we'll roll all covered with gold, When I make little Mary my bride."
94
KITTY WELLS
You ask what makes this darkey weep,
Why he, like others, am not gay, What makes the tears roll down his cheek From early morn till close of day; My story now you all shall hear, For in my memory fond it dwells; 'Twill cause you each to shed a tear
O'er the grave of my sweet Kitty Wells.
Where the birds were singing in the morning, And the myrtle and the ivy were in bloom, While the sun o'er the hill-tops was dawning, 'Twas there they laid her in her tomb.
I never shall forget the day
When with sweet Kitty in the dells I kissed her cheek and named the day
That I should marry Kitty Wells. But death came to her cottage door,
And stole away my joy and pride; And when I found she was no more,
I laid my banjo down and cried.
95
PASTORAL ELEGY
What sorrowful sounds do I hear Move slowly along in the gale? How solemn the bell on my ear As softly they pass through the gale! Sweet Coroden's notes are all o'er, How lonely he sleeps in the clay! His cheeks bloom with roses no more Since death called his spirit away. Sweet woodbine will rise round his tomb, And willows there sorrowing wave, Young hyacinths freshen and bloom While hawthorns encircle his grave. Each morn when the sun guiles the east, The green grass bespangles with dew, He'll cast his bright beams on the west To cheer the sad Caroline's view- O Coroden, hear the sad cries Of Caroline plaintive and low! O spirit look down from the skies, And pity the mourner below! 'Tis Caroline's voice in the grove, Which Philomel heard on the plain; Then striving the mourner to soothe, With sympathy join in her strain. Ye shepherds so blithesome and young, Retire from your sports on the green. Since Coroden's deaf to my song, The wolves tear the lambs in the plain. Each swain round the forest will stray, And sorrowing hung down his head. His pipe then in sympathy played Some dirge to young Coroden's shade. And when the still night has unfurled Her robes o'er the hamlet around; Gray twilight retires from the world And darkness encumbers the ground. I'll leave my own gloomy abode, To Coroden's urn will I fly; Then kneeling will bless the just God Who dwells in bright mansions on high. Since Coroden hears me no more In gloom let the woodlands appear, Ye oceans, be still of your roar, Let autumn extend round the year. I'll hie me through meadows and lawns, There cull the bright flowers of May; Then rise on the wings of the morn And waft my young spirit away.
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96
THE COURTSHIP OF BILLY GRIMES
"Tomorrow, Pa, I'm sweet sixteen, and Billy Grimes the drover,
Has popped the question to me, Pa, and wants to be my lover;
He's coming here tomorrow, Pa, he's coming bright and early,
And I'm to take a walk with him .across the fields of barley."
"You shall not go, my daughter dear, now there's no
use in talking; You shall not go with Billy Grimes across the fields
a-walking;
To think of such presumption, child, that ugly dirty drover,
I don't see where your pride has gone, to think of such a lover."
"Old Grimes is dead, you know, Papa, and Billy is so lonely,
Old Grimes is dead, you know, Papa, and Billy is the only
Surviving heir to all that's left, a good ten thousand nearly,
Besides he is the only heir of about three thousand yearly."
"I did not hear, my daughter dear, your last remark quite clearly,
But Billy is a goodly lad, no doubt he loves you dearly; Tomorrow morning he may come, he may come bright and early,
And you may take a walk with him across the fields of barley."
97
FAIR FANNY MOORE
Yonder stands a cottage all deserted and lone, Its paths are neglected, with grass overgrown, Go in and you'll see some dark stains on the floor— Alas! it is the blood of the fair Fanny Moore. To Fanny so blooming two lovers there came, One offered young Fanny his wealth and his name; But neither his money nor pride could secure A place in the heart of the fair Fanny Moore. The first was young Randall so bold and so proud, When to the fair Fanny his haughty head bowed; But bis wealth and his house both failed to allure The heart from the bosom of fair Fanny Moore. The next was young Henry of lowest degree, He won his fond love and enraptured was he; And then at the altar he quick did secure The hand and the heart of the fair Fanny Moore. As she was alone in her cottage one day, When business had called her fond husband away, Young Randall the haughty came in at the door, And clasped in his arms this young fair Fanny Moore. "Now Fanny, O Fanny, reflect on your fate, And accept of my offer before 'tis too late; For one thing tonight I am bound to secure, 'Tis the love or the life of the fair Fanny Moore." "Spare me, O spare me," the fair Fanny cries, While the tears swiftly flow from her beautiful eyes; "O no," says young Randall, "Go home to your rest," And he buried his knife in her snowy white breast. So Fanny all blooming in her bright beauty died, Young Randall the haughty was taken and tried; At length he was hung on a tree at the door, For shedding the blood of the fair Fanny Moore. Young Henry the shepherd, distracted and wild, Did wander away from his own native isle; Till at length claimed by death, he was brought to the shore And laid by the side of his fair Fanny Moore.
98
I WISH I WAS SINGLE AGAIN
When I was single, 0 then, 0 then, When I was single, 0 then, When I was single, my money did jingle, I wish I was single again, again, And I wish I was single again. I married me a wife, O then, 0 then,
I married me a wife, 0 then,
I married me a wife, she's the plague of my life,
And I wished I was single again, again,
And I wished I was single again.
My wife she died, O then, O then, My wife she died, 0 then, My wife she died, and then I cried, To think I was single again, again, To think I was single again. I married another, the devil's grandmother,
I wished I was single again,
For when I was single, my money did jingle,
I wish I was single again, again,
I wish I was single again.
99
I'LL NOT MARRY AT ALL
I'm determined to live an old maid, I'll take my stool and sit in the shade, And I'll not marry at all, at all, And I'll not marry at all. O I'll not marry a man who's rich, For he'd get drunk and fall in a ditch, And I'll not marry at all, at all, And I'll not marry at all. O I'll not marry a man who's poor, For he'd go begging from door to door, And I'll not marry at all, at all, And I'll not marry at all. 0 I'll not marry a man who chews, For he'll go slobbering from chin to shoes, And I'll not marry at all, at all, And I'll not marry at all. 0 I'll not marry a man who smokes, For that would not please the old folks, And I'll not marry at all, at all And I'll not marry at all. Yes, I'm determined to live an old maid, I'll take my stool and sit in the shade, And I'll not marry at all, at all, And I'll not marry at all. 100
ROSEN THE BOW
I have traveled this wide world all over, And now to another I'll go;
For I know that good quarters are waiting To welcome Old Rosen the Bow. The gay round of delight I have travelled,
Nor will I behind leave a woe; For when my companions are jovial, They drink to Old Rosen the Bow.
This life is now drawing to a closing,
All will at last be so; Then we'll take a full bumper at parting, To the name of Old Rosen the Bow.
When I am dead and laid out on the counter,
And the people all anxious to know, Just raise up the lid of my coffin
And look at Old Rosen the Bow.
And when through all the streets my friends bear me,
The ladies are filled with deep woe, They'll come to the doors and the windows,
And sigh for Old Rosen the Bow.
Then get me some fine jovial fellows,
And let them all staggering go; Then dig a deep hole in the meadow,
And in it toss Rosen the Bow.
Then get me a couple of dornicks, Place one at my head and my toe, And do not forget to scratch on them, "Here lies Old Rosen the Bow." Then let those same jovial fellows,
Surround my grave in a row, Whilst they drink from my favorite bottle The health to old Rosen the Bow.
101 EVALINA
Way down in the meadow where the lily first blows, Where the wind from the mountain never ruffles the rose,
Lives fond Evalina, the sweet little dove, The pride of the valley, the girl that I love. Sweet Evalina, dear Evalina,
My love for thee will never, never die.
She's fair as the rose, like a lamb she is meek, And she never was known to put paint on her cheek; In the most graceful curls hangs her raven black hair, And she never requires perfumery there. Evalina and I one fond evening in June, Took a walk all alone by the light of the moon; The planets all shone for the heavens were clear, And I felt round my heart O so mightily queer.
Three years have gone by and I've not got a dollar; Evalina stills lives in the green grassy hollow; Although I am fated to marry her never, I love her, I'm sure, forever and ever. 102
MY BLUE-EYED BOY
There is a tree I love to pass, And it has leaves as green as grass, But not as green as love is true; I love but one and that is you. Bring to me my blue-eyed boy! Bring, 0 bring him back to me! Bring to me my blue-eyed boy, What a happy, happy girl I'd be. Must I go bound and he go free? Must I love one that don't love me? Or must I act a childish part And love the one that broke my heart? Go bear, go bear, go bear in mind That a good true friend is hard to find, And when you find one good and true Never change the old one for the new. Adieu, adieu kind friends, adieu, I can no longer stay with you. I'll hang my heart in a willow tree, And give it to the one that first loved me. 103
THE OLD GRAY MULE
Mr. Thomas had an old gray mule,
And he drove him to a cart, And he loved that mule and the mule loved him With all his mulish heart. Mr. Thomas knowed when the roosters crowed That day was a-gwine to break, So he slicked that mule with a three-legged stool, And he curried him off with a rake.
And the mule would ea-aw-w-w,
Ee-aw, ee-aw, ee-aw-w-w, And he cuffed that mule and he cuffed that mule, And he curried him off with a rake.
He fed him on some old boot tops
And bits of yellow clay, Some shavings and some wooden pegs, Instead of oats and hay; And the mule would chaw with his iron jaw, On a piece of dirty sock, And he'd wink his eye if he had some pie, And his mouth chuck full of sock.
That mule could kick like a ton of brick;
Both hind legs were loose, And he flung them back at a big lipped Jack, And he mashed his royal snoot; That negro thought that he'd been caught In an awful big cyclone. And you bet he wished that he had let That old gray mule alone.
One day while wandering in a field
He found an old hoop skirt; He at once began to have a feast On royal rust and dirt. That night he had an awful cramp That settled in his feet, And ere morn dawned that mule had gone To walk on the golden street.
104
I WILL TELL YOU OF A FELLOW
I will tell you of a fellow, Of a fellow I have seen, Who was neither white nor yellow, Nor was altogether green. With my life alure a lickem, With my life alure a lem.
0 he came one night to see me, And he made so long a stay, That I really thought the blockhead Never meant to go away. With my life alure a lickem, etc.
0 he told me of devotion, Of devotion pure and deep, And he talked so awful silly That I nearly fell asleep. With my life alure a lickem, etc.
0 he told me of a cottage,
Of a cottage by the seas, And then, would you believe it, Why, he tumbled on his knees.
With my life alure a lickem, etc.
0 I knew I couldn't love him,
But the very deuce is in it; For he sayB if I refuse him,
Why, he couldn't live a minute.
With my life alure a lickem, etc.
And you know the blessed Bible Plainly says we mustn't kill; So I've thought the matter over, And I kind of think—I will. With my life alure a lickem, etc. 105
THE PREACHER'S LEGACY
O, if poor sinners did but know
How much for them I undergo,
They would not treat me with contempt,
Nor curse me when I say "Repent."
Give credit now to what I say,
And mind it till the judgment day,
Of God I'm sent, to you I call,
The invitation is to all.
My loving brethren think it strange That I should leave my dearest friends; My sisters wonder where I am, That I do not return to them. My parents' house I bid adieu, And on my journey I pursue, To distant climes I now repair To call poor sinners far and near. Through storms of wind and rain and snow Both day and night I have to go To attend the appointments I have made, Or find some place to lay my head. Sometimes in open houses sleep Or in some little place I creep, I cannot sleep for want of clothes, Smothered in smoke and almost froze. I ofttimes with false brethren meet Whose heart is full of vain deceit. They seem quite pleasant at the first, But of all friends they are the worst. The roaring tempest beat with force, And ofttimes drives me from my course. But he who hears the sparrows' care Protects and drives away my fear. Sometimes with hunger I grow faint, But travel on till almost spent, Without a friend and helper nigh But he who hears the ravens' cry. When lo, I hear a glorious voice, Saying, "Arise, in me rejoice! Go to the earth's remotest bounds, I'll be thy friend while foes surround." And when my work is done below,
I hope to glory I shall go;
I'll take my lofty distant flight
To dwell with saints in endless light,
With all the happy pilgrims there,
And in God's kingdom have a share.
We'll shout and sing, our suffering o'er,
Where Christian friends will part no more. 106
THE SPANISH CABINEER
The Spanish cabineer stood under a tree And on his gautar played a tone, dear, The music so sweet I often repeat,
Remember what I say and be true, dear.
Say darling, say, when I am far away, Sometime you may think of me, dear. Bright sunny days, will soon pass away, Remember what I say and be true, dear. Off to the war, to the war I must go, To fight for my country and you, dear, And if I should fall, in vain I would call, For blessings on you and my country. When the war is over, to you I'll return, Back to my country and you, dear; But if I am slain you might seek me in vain, On the battlefield you will find me. 107
THE TWO DRUMMERS
Two drummers sat at dinner In a grand hotel one day, While dining they were chatting
In a jolly sort of way; And when a pretty waitress
Brought them a tray of food, They accosted her In a manner rather rude. At first she did not notice them Or make the least reply, Till one remark was passed That brought tears to her eye. Then, facing her tormentors,
Cheeks now burning red, She looked a perfect picture
As appealingly she said:
"My mother was a lady,
As yours, no doubt you'll allow, And you may have a sister Who needs protection now. I came to this great city To find a brother dear, You'd not dare insult me, sir, If Jack were only here."
"Tis true one touch of nature Makes the whole world akin, And every word she uttered
Seemed to pierce their hearts within.
She left them stunned and silent Till just one cry of shame—
"Forgive me, Miss, I meant no harm:
Pray tell me, what's your name." She told him and he cried again,
"I know your brother, too, We've been friends for many years,
And he often speaks of you. He'll be so glad to see you, And if you'll only wed, I'll take you to him as my wife For I love you since you said:
"My mother is a lady,
As yours, no doubt you'll allow. And you may have a sister Who needs protection now. I came to this great city To find a brother dear, You'd not dare insult me, sir, If Jack were only here."
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NOTES:
91. The Pretty Mohea. Obtained by Mabel Conrad Sullivan from Mrs. John Leslie of Stanford, Montana, 1914. In many texts of this song the name "Mohea" passes into " Maumee," "The Pretty Maumee."
92. (A) Katie's Secret. Text as sung by Mrs. Mary F. Lindsay of Hebron, Nebraska, 1914.
(B) The Hawthorn Tree. Text obtained by L. C. Wimberly from a Louisiana source.
93. Mary And Willie. Text obtained by Mabel Conrad Sullivan from Mrs. John Leslie of Stanford, Montana, 1914. This piece seems to be the Annie and Willie known, according to Professor Shearin, in the Cumberland Mountains. The plot resembles that of The Prentice
Boy (No. 31) and The Rich Young Farmer (No. 29). It may also be compared with that of The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington (Child, No. 105.)
94. Kitty Wells. Text secured by Professor Reed Smith in 1920 from a student at the University of South Carolina, J. B. Belk. Mr. Belk had it from his grandmother who heard it sung by slaves in Union County, South Carolina. A version sung by Mrs. Mary F. Lindsay of Hebron, Nebraska, is nearly identical but has an additional stanza.
95. Pastoral Elegy. Text obtained by Professor Edwin F. Piper, from a manuscript book belonging to Mrs. Lydia Hinshaw of Richland, Iowa. Mrs. Hinshaw says that it was sung by her mother who knew it when she came to Iowa from Ohio in 1840. "Coroden" is obviously from Corydon.
96. The Courtship Op Billy Grimes. Text of A. J. Leach of Oakdale, Antelope County, Nebraska, in 1914, who learned it as "sung before 1850 in Michigan."
97. Fair Fanny Moore. Text obtained from Mrs. John Leslie of Stanford, Montana, 1915. Mr. Lomax's Texas text is nearly identical and the ballad is listed by H. M. Belden as known in Missouri. It still has wide currency.
98. I Wish I Was Single Again. Text obtained from Lillian Gear Boswell when living at Junction, Wyoming, in 1914. According to H. M. Belden, the authorship of this popular piece is claimed by George Meeks, a ballad singer in Kansas. "A Study in Contemporary Balladry," The Mid-West Quarterly, vol. I, p. 170. 1913-14.
99. I'll Not Marry At All. Text obtained from Mabel Conrad Sullivan of Winnett, Montana, 1915.
100. Rosen The Bow. Text obtained through Mabel Conrad Sullivan from Mrs. John Leslie of Stanford, Montana, 1915. Other texts, as that of J. A. Lomax in Cowboy Songs, spell the title Rosin the Beau. The song is piinted as an "Old English Song" in The Franklin Square Song Collection, No. 2, p. 48 (1884) under the name Rosin the Bow, which is probably the original spelling.
101. Evalina. Text from Marie Gladys Hayden of Hobson, Montana, 1914.
102. My Blue-eyed Boy. From a manuscript book of songs from oral transcription in the possession of Sadie Thurman Hewitt of Brokenbow, Nebraska. Transcribed under the date of February, 1905.
103. The Old Gray Mule. Text obtained from Iowa sources by L. C. Wimberly of the University of Nebraska, 1917.
104. (A) I Will Tell You Of A Fellow. Text obtained from Northeastern Iowa by L. A. Quivey in 1914. The song is usually known as "Common Will." For other versions, see Broadwood and Maitland, English County Songs, p. 52, 1893, and The Journal of American Folk-Lore, vol. 28, 173, vol. 29, 171, etc.
105. The Preacher's Legacy. From Mrs. Hinshaw's manuscript book, had by her from the singing of N. C. Johnson. Her copy is to be dated about 1879. Secured through E. F. Piper.
106. The Spanish Cabineer. Text as sung on a ranch at Junction, Wyoming, 1913. Secured by Lillian Gear Boswell. This version of the well-known college song The Spanish Cavalier is included because of the interest of the folk-etymological changes of the first stanza.
107. The Two Drummers. Text obtained from Mrs. E. N. Hardin, of Missouri Valley, Iowa, in 1916, through L. C. Wimberly. Of interest is the rapid action of its last part. The song is of comparatively recent composition. It is by Edward B. Marks and was published by Joseph Western in 1896. As with After the Ball, Two Little Girls in Blue, and other song hits of the 1890's which still have vitality in out of the way places, all knowledge of its authorship and origin is lacking to its singers.