The Dewy Dewy Dens of Yarrow- Edwards (VT) pre1944 Cazden (Also titled, "The Dens of Yarrow" in Folk Songs of the Catskills by Cazden)
[From: Folk Songs of the Catskills by Cazden, Herbert Haufrecht and Norman Studer. The informant is not to be confused with George Edwards of Vermont, an informant for Flanders who was born in the British Isles. Cazden's George Edwards was born March 31, 1877 in Hasbrouck, NY a small place on the Neversink River. George's father, Jehila "Pat" Edwards was a scoopmaker by trade but worked as an unskilled laborer. Pat loved liquor and would sing in bars for free drinks. He died in 1927. George's mother Mary Lockwood was the stable influence in his life. She was a singer, mostly of hymns. She died in 1925. George's cousins were Charles Hinckley and "Dick" Edwards, both singers
Evidently George Edwards version was first published in Elie Siegmeister's "The Dewy Dens of Yarrow," printed on page 40 of Songs of Early America; 1944;
1. There were seven sons and two of them twins,
There were seven sons in Yarrow,
And they did fight for their own true love,
In the dewy, dewy dens of Yarrow.
7. Oh, mother dear, go make my bed,
Go make it neat and narrow;
For my love died last night for me,
I will die for him tomorrow.
R. Matteson 2013, 2016]
THE DEWY DEWY DENS OF YARROW- George Edwards (New York) pre1955; Folk Songs of the Catskills By Norman Cazden, Herbert Haufrecht, Norman Studer; learned from his mother. A similar version titled "Seven Sons" was recorded by Marvin Yale.
There were seven sons, and two of them twins,
There were seven sons in the Yarrow,
And all did fight for their own true love
In the dewy, dewy dens of Yarrow.
"Oh, mother dear, I had a dream,
A dream of grief and sorrow;
I dreamed I was gathering pretty heather bloom
In the dewy, dewy dens of Yarrow."
"Daughter dear, I read your dream,
Your dream of grief and sorrow:
Your love, Jimmy, is lying slain
'Way down in the dens of Yarrow."
She sot him up, she sot him down,
She sot him all through Yarrow,
And there she found him lying slain
At the back of a bush into Yarrow.
She washed his face, she combed his hair,
She combed it neat and narrow,
And then she washed the bloody, bloody wownd
That he had got in Yarrow.
Her hair, it was three quarters long,
And the color of it was yallow;
She wrapped it 'round his middle so small,
And she carried him home from Yarrow.
"Daughter dear, don't be so grieved,
Don't be so grieved with sorrow:
I'll lead you to a better, better one
Than the one you lost into Yarrow."
"Oh, mother dear, go make my bed,
Go make it neat and narrow,
For my love died last night for me,
I will die for him tomorrow."
She dressed herself into clean, white clothes,
And away to the waters of Yarrow;
And there she laid her own self down,
And she died on the banks of Yarrow.