Gypsies & the Laddies- D. Morris (VA) 1962 Foss REC
[My title. From LC/AAFS, rec. No. 12,007(A7). Also Bronson 82. Read Foss's From White Hall to Bacon Hollow here:
http://www.klein-shiflett.com/shifletfamily/HHI/GeorgeFoss/whall.html
According to Foss, there are numerous Shiflett-Shiflett marriages and numerous Shiflett-Morris marriages. Some of Foss's intro follows.
This stems from one of the older version found in the Appalachians. Cf. Florence Shiflett's version (also collected by Foss) which is nearly the same (family version).
R. Matteson 2015]
David Morris says he was “born right on this place. That was bout eighteen and eighty five.” He walks about his small farm on Waytt's Mountain followed closely by a large friendly dog of untraceable collie and shepherd ancestry pointing out to the visitor his grape arbors, or patiently explaining the various uses of an old spring house, or waves his arm over the high fields as he describes how things have changed in his over eighty years. Unlike the austere and bleak hillsides which make up the farms of many of his Blue Ridge neighbors, Mr. Morris' home has a look of gentle solidity. The fields are rounded, not craggy; the buildings are straight and weather-worn, not beaten. This setting and his many years have infused Mr. Morris' conversations with observations which make the listener think that here is some Southern Appalachian counterpart to Ben Franklin's Poor Richard. He is aware of the tall tales and antique ways since they are so much a part of his life, but his comments on them are laced with a humorous and convoluted common sense. “When a person gets drunk and don't know what they doin', how they know what they gonna do? Big difference in a drunk man and a sober one.” Commenting on the telling of ghost tales by a yarn spinning neighbor, Morris said, “Ain't nothin' to hurt you else some wild varmint or no-count people.” And on the local folk custom of planting crops by signs: “Good land and good season is the best sign.”
[Gypsies and the Laddies] -Sung by David Morris (76), Wyatt's Mountain; Dyke, Va., July 13, 1962. Collected by George Foss.
1. It was late in the night when the Captain came home,
Inquiring for his honey O,
The reply that was made unto him, my dear,
She's gone with the gipsies and the laddie O.
2. Saddle up, saddle up my milk-white gray,
Saddle up, saddle up in a hurry O.
F'r I will ride all night until broad daylight,
Till I overtake my honey O.
3. He rode to the East, and he rode to the West,
From there he rode to Bontum O.
There I was led with my pretty little Miss,
She was going with the gipsies and the laddie.
4 I won't go home but I shan't go back,
I haven't but a moment to tell you.
. . .
. . .
5. Once you were due to a nice feather bed,
Now you are due to another one,
Now you are due to an old torn tick,
With the gipsies and the laddies all around.