Bluegrass Messengers

Ancient Themes- by Flanders 1964

Ancient Themes and Characteristics Found in Certain New England Folksongs
by Helen Hartness Flanders
The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 77, No. 303 (Jan. - Mar., 1964), pp. 32-38


HELEN HARTNESS FLANDERS
ANCIENT THEMES AND CHARACTERISTICS FOUND IN CERTAIN NEW ENGLAND FOLKSONGS[1]

WITH MY SUBJECT this morning "Ancient Themes and Characteristics Found
in Certain New England Folksongs" I can cite here in my allotted twenty minutes
but a few of those I have encountered. For the oldest, I will choose one superior
authority.

I shall confine myself chiefly to the book published in 1956 entitled From the Tablets
of Sumer by the eminent Sumerologist Samuel Noah Kramer.[2] His forthcoming
book The Sumerians: Their History, Culture, and Character will be published by the
University of Chicago Press next spring (I963). But I have much to bring to the
fore for your consideration, particularly his translation of legends and myths millennia
old, where lines of poetry seem akin to some in my collection of New England folksongs.
I shall read excerpts from that particular book, From the Tablets of Sumerexcerpts
which led me to revalue, now here, now there, what is in my files. I will
quote with permission from the publisher (The Falcon's Wing Press) what I think
is analogous so that you may form your own opinions.

In Sumerian there occur incremental repetitions where an envoy repeats a message
word for word as first given him and it advances the plot whenever it recurs. For
instance, in the first tale of resurrection there is the myth in the words of the ancient
poet himself. Dr. Kramer translates Inanna's instructions to her vizier Ninshubur.[3]

Note the patterned repetitions of
"Upon entering the Ekur, the house of Enlil,
Weep before Enlil;
'O father Enlil, let not your daughter be put to death in the nether world,
Let not your good metal be covered with the dust of the nether world,
Let not your good lapis lazuli be broken up into the stone of the stoneworker,
Let not your boxwood be cut up into the wood of the woodworker,
Let not the maid Inanna be put to death in the nether world.'
If Enlil stands not by you in this matter, go to Ur.
"In Ur upon entering the ..-house of the land,
The Ekishnugal, the house of Nanna,
Weep before Nanna:
'O father Nanna, let not your daughter...' [and then the five lines of instructions are r epeated.]
If Nanna stands not by you in this matter, go to Eridu.
"In Eridu upon entering the house of Enki,
Weep before Enki:
'O father Enki, let not your daughter . . .' [and again
the five lines are repeated]

The instructions to the vizier are verbally reported later when they are carried out at the house of Enlil, father of Inanna; again at the house of Nanna and again at the house of Enki.

Now note the patterned repetitions in the latter-day form of Child 95, "The Maid Freed from the Gallows," a reiterating pressing way of narration in both cases. This is as sung by Mrs. Peggy Coffin Halvosa of Barre, Vermont, learned from her father, the poet Robert P. Tristram Coffin.

WEEP-O-MELLOW TREE
"O mother, mother, bring me gold
For to set me free
For today I'm going to be hung
Under the weep-o-mellowtr ee."
"O Johnny, no, I've brought no gold
For to set you free.
I have come to see you hung
Under the weep-o-mellowtr ee."
"0 father, father, bring me gold
For to set me free
For today I'm going to be hung
Under the weep-o-mellowtr ee."
"0 Johnny, no ..."
and so on through the family.
This next example which I cite may seem farfetched. I can say only that to me the
indication of an ages-old law for the trial by water ordeal seems basic for the song
recorded from the singing of Mrs. William Bloomfield in Newport, Rhode Island,
known as "The Drowning Lady" or "The Lazy Witch." 4
She bobbed it up, she bobbed it down,
She bobbed it to the brim,
But he with his walking-stick,
He bobbed her farther in.
Tim me tither morango-dang
Tim me tither morango-dang
Tim me tither morango-dang
I am weary all the day.
So now my song is ended,
And I can sing no more.
But wasn't she the lazy witch
That wouldn't swim to the shore?
About the law Dr. Kramer writes5 that it was "promulgated by a Sumerian king
named Ur-Nammu. This ruler, who founded the now well-known Third Dynasty of
Ur, began his reign, even according to lowest chronological estimates, about 2050
B. C., some three hundred years before the Babylonian King Hammurabi." Dr.

Kramer describes the tablet as a "copy of the oldest law code yet known to man...
which seems to involve a trial by water ordeal."
Slight as it is, I note in the Sumerian dragon slaying myth6 the line "After he had
set sail, after he had set sail" because of a similarity to the narration by New England
singers who sing about Captain Kidd. In twelve stanzas of that song is interspersed
between alternate lines, "As I sailed, as I sailed." I think human nature is reflected
from the remote past in the choice of emphasizing the story with that reiteration.
From the Tablets of Sumer contains a translation of "The Wooing of Inanna,"
where a sister does not wish to marry the shepherd who is her brother's choice. She
prefers a farmer and speaks plainly:7
"Me the shepherd shall not marry,
In his new garment he shall not drape me,
His fine wool shall not cover me,
Me, the maid, the farmer shall marry,
The farmer who makes plants grow abundantly,
The farmer who makes grain grow abundantly . . ."
In the case in New England of the dialogue between two girls about "The Farmer
and the Shanty Boy" Phillips Barry commented in our New Green Mountain Songster8
that "The oldest song bearing any formal resemblance to 'The Farmer and the
Shanty Boy' is 'De Phyllide et Flora,' in which the maids argue whether a knight or
a clerk is the better match."
As a study in extant parallels, I should cite a stanza from "King Henry Fifth's
Conquest of France," which seems to give far-reaching experience in kindly mind
meeting kindly mind. This you may have read from my Introduction to Volume I
of Ancient Ballads Traditionally Sung in New England,9 but it is part of my argument
here.
In 1956 the International Congress of Anthropological and Ethnological Sciences
met in Philadelphia. There I had the opportunity to meet Dr. Kramer for the first
time. In his office we talked about his translation of the poem about the renowned
hero Gilgamesh. He plans a journey to a far distant country. He must have fifty
followers. They must be unattached. Gilgamesh requires

Who has a house, to his house! Who has a mother, to his mother!
Let single males who would do as I, fifty, stand at my side!
Analogous in content is the tenth quatrain of Child 164, "King Henry Fifth's Conquest
of France." This I recorded from a former cook in a lumber camp in Newry,
Maine. Mr. E. C. Green may never have known he sang about the battle of Agincourt;
he may not have known of Shakespeare's play about Henry the Fifth, but he knew
that when the king "number'd up his men," he stated that
No married man, no widow's son,
A widow's son can't follow me;
No married man, no widow's son,
A widow's son can't follow me.
Neither of us knew then that a far earlier mythical king, from a far different race of
beings, millennia before, had chosen as his followers into a dangerous region that
same kind of unattached subject.

While I was in his office, Dr. Kramer stepped to his files to give me what he
believed was the Sumerian pronunciation of those lines. Dr. Tristram Coffin has since
made a tape recording of Dr. Kramer speaking those words for my use in lectures.
Now you may hear the ancient language which gives the pronunciation of the lines
Who has a house, to his house! Who has a mother, to his mother!
Let single males who would do as I, fifty, stand at my side!
[Here was played the tape recording.]
As regards Sumerian pronunciations, I raised the question with Dr. Kramer about
the name Gilgamesh, authorized thus by my dictionaries but which two learned men
had named Gilgamesh. On a post card Dr. Kramer gave me this verdict: "Please go
on pronouncing Gilgamesh rather than Gilgamesh; the Sumerian gods will like it."
Passing from the Sumerian intercultural characteristics, I bring up a theme which
already I have published in Ballads Migrant in New England.
In an upper room of the Old Constitution House in Windsor, Vermont, devoted
to local historical antiques, I found a trunk containing books of slight interest except for
a copybook handwritten by Catherine Morgan of Windsor bearing the dates 1826-I830.
This contained words to several songs commonly sung after the Revolutionary War.
One song arrested my attention. It tells that Cupid was brought in from the rain to a
friendly fireside one dark evening by a kindly lady. As soon as she had dried him off,
He takes up his bow
Says, away am I if I please.
He takes good aim at her, then chuckles with
"My bow 'tis undamaged
And so is my dart
But you will find trouble
In bearing the smart."
Shortly after reading in this manuscript form about the mischievous boy, I was in
Washington. My husband had been reading aloud to me the Iliad as translated by
the Earl of Derby. In this book the Earl had added a few odes by Anacreon. When
I heard Ode Number Three, I blinked. Nothing seemed missing. The ode and the
handwritten quatrains I had found in Windsor both told the same story. The Windsor
tale was of ancient lineage. Anacreon was a native of Teos, in Ionian Asia Minor,
born supposedly 560 years before Christ.
I never expected to find its tune; but in a home for the Episcopal Aged in Swansea,
Massachusetts, Miss Josephine Brooks recalled for me what her childhood nurse in
Bristol, Rhode Island, sang about the White-Headed Boy. Before I play you what she
sang, I must alert you about the third line of her tune, which follows closely the tune
Cecil Sharp found as sung in "The Lark in the Morn" published in his volume
entitled One Hundred English Folk Songs.

THE WHITE-HEADED BOY
"I have lost my way, so I pray you take
me in."
With compassion I arose, and striking a
light,
I opened the door when a boy appeared in
sight.
He had wings on his shoulders, and the
rain from him dripped,
And with a bow and arrow,
And with a bow and arrow the boy was
equipped.
I stirred up the fire and sat him by my side,
And with a warm napkin the rain from him
dried;
I chafed him all over to keep out the cold air
And with me hands I wrung, and with me
hands
I wrung the rain from his hair.
No sooner from damp and from cold he
found ease
Than taking up his quiver said, "Madam,
if you please,
If you please, I should like by experiment
to know
If the rain has not damaged,
If the rain has not damaged the strings of
me bow."
Then from the quiver an arrow he drew,
He aimed it at me heart and twang! went
the bow;
"The bow is not injured and neither is the
dart
But you will find some trouble,
But you will find some trouble in bearing
the smart."
I have with me a photostat of a manuscript book given me in I956 showing, on
page 28, the transitional appearance of this same ode as an anonymous Renaissance
version of Anacreon's Ode Number Three, entitled
Anacreon, Ode 3d imitated. 1758.
'Twas on a black Tempeftuous Night,
On which the Stars refus'd their Light;
Her brighter Glories Cynthia veild,
And mortal Eyes in Sleep were feal'd.
When Cupid, on a Frolick bent,
To old Avaro's Dwelling went.
Where wet & tir'd his Godfhip late,
Arriv'd & thunder'd at ye Gate.
"Who's there? aloud Avaro cries.
"A harmlefs Child! ye God replies.
"Rife, gentle Sir, for Heav'n's Sake rife,
"And fave a Stripling, or he dies!
With Pity touch'd, the good Man rose,
Slip'do n his BreechesC, oat,& H ole,
To make a Light ftirs up the Fire,
Then opes the Gate as his Desire:
When lo! appeareth in his Sight,
A comely Youth, with Wings bedight,
A filver Bow in's Hand unstrung,
A Quiver on his Shoulders hung:
Avaro takes of him much Care,
And drains the Wet from off his Hair.
The flowing Trefses combs, and brings
A cloth to dry his dropping Wings.
His Hands betwixt his own he dries,
And all his Godship's Wants fupplies.
Cupid refresh'd, now grew alert,
And look'd and talk more brisk & pert,
More chearful, merry & more gay,
& tho't it Time to shew his Play.
"I fear, says he, this Wet, my String
"Has flack'd & spoil'd it's wonted Spring.
"Ill try however"-ftrait he drew,
Twang from ye Bow, an Arrow flew;
Aim'd with fuch Skill, ye venom Dart,
Peirc'd poor Avaro to ye Heart.
Cu' archly smil'd, and cryd with Joy,
"Farewell kind Host, adieu old Boy:
"I find my Bow does ftill retain,
"It's wonted Spring in Spite of Rain.
"You, to your Cost can prove it found,
"Having given you a mortal Wound.
Anonymous-

In Quechee, Vermont, Elmer Barton, who grew up in the Adirondacks, sang
about "The Farmer's Curst Wife."
I talked with Dr. B. L. Pathak, Exchange Librarian from India, at the Baker
Memorial Library at Dartmouth College. He said that same tale was in the Panchatantra,
a book translated into Sanskrit in the fifth century A. D. containing the
original fables of Bidpah, well known now throughout India in all its languages. He
enlarged upon this transition of the fables. He said that in India they were secreted
in the Royal Treasury and shown only to an eligible few. Nao she wawn, King of
Persia, sent emissaries to India. Upon their departure from India, the Panchatantra
disappeared.
In Persia the fables were translated into the language of the Court, Pehlevi, and
from Pehlevi into Aramaic (not the Chaldean Aramaic which was spoken by Christ
and his disciples); thence into Arabic by Ibn ul mu karra; thence into Greek and
Latin-all this time in poetry. Then it was retranslated from Arabic into Persian
prose and known as the Anwar i suhail i.
By the time I find it in Quechee, Vermont, it has been translated into a Yankee
accent. I play it to you as recorded by Elmer Barton on the long-playing record New
England Folksong Series No. i, issued and distributed by Middlebury College, Middlebury,
Vermont.
FARMER'S CURST WIFE
There was an old man who bought him a
farm,
Lowland tickle O lay.
There was an old man who bought him a
farm
And he had no team to carry it on,
Lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
So he yoked up his dog beside his sow,
Lowland tickle O lay.
He yoked up his dog beside his sow
And he went walloping 'round, well, the
devil knows how,
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
Then he saw the old devil on one certing
day,
Saying lowland tickle O lay.
He saw the old devil on one certing day,
Saying, "One of your family I'll carry
away."
Lowland tickle 0 laddie,
Lowland tickle 0 lay.
Oh, out cried the old man, "I am undone!"
Lowland tickle O lay.
Out cried the old man, "I am undone!
The devil has come for my oldest son!"
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
"No, it is not your son," the devil did say,
Saying lowland tickle O lay.
"'Tis not your son," the devil did say,
"But your scolding old wife I'll carry away."
Lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
"Oh, take her, oh, take her with all my
heart!"
Saying lowland tickle 0 lay.
"Take her, oh, take her with all my heart
And I hope and pray you will never part!"
Saying lowland tickle 0 laddie
Lowland tickle 0 lay.

So the old devil he swung her acrost his
back,
Saying lowland tickle O lay.
The old devil he swung her acrost his back
And up to hell's door he went clickertyclack,
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
For she saw one little devil preparing the
chains,
Lowland tickle O lay.
One little devil preparing the chains.
Well, she up with her foot and she kicked
out his brains,
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
Then another little devil said, "Hitch her
up higher!"
Lowland tickle O lay.
Another little devil said, "Hitch her up
higher!"
Well, she up with her foot and kicked nine
in the fire,
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
Then another little devil peeked over the
wall,
Lowland tickle O lay.
Another little devil peeked over the wall;
"Carry her back, Master Devil, she will kill
us all!"
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
So the old devil he swung her acrost his
back,
Saying lowland tickle 0 lay.
The old devil he swung her acrost his back
And like a dam' fool he went tuggin' her
back,
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
Oh, out cried the old man, "You were born
for a curse!"
Lowland tickle O lay.
Out cried the old man, "You were born for
a curse;
For you've been to hell, and now you're
worse!"
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
Well, the old woman she went yelling all
over the hills,
Lowland tickle 0 lay.
The old woman went yelling all over the
hill.
The devil wunt have her 'n' I don' know
who will!
Saying lowland tickle O laddie,
Lowland tickle O lay.
Maybe you will agree that some ancient writings can indicate a lineage and make
possible a folk companionship from widely separated ages and places.
NOTES
i. An address delivered December 27, I962, at the Annual Meeting of the American Folklore
Society in Washington, D. C.
2. From the Tablets of Sumer was published in 1959 under the title History Begins at Sumer
in a Doubleday Anchor Books edition by arrangement with the original publisher, The Falcon's
Wing Press.
3. Kramer, 187.
4. Published in my Ballads Migrant in New England, I3.
5. Flanders, 50.
6. Kramer, 1959, I7I.
7. Kramer, 1959, I40.
8. Published by the Yale University Press in I959; page I68.
9. Being published in four volumes by the University of Pennsylvania Press.
Smiley Manse
Springfield, Vermont