Little Sister Mary- Hicks (NC) c.1940s Abrams
[Identified in the Abrams Folksong collection as Lizie Wan, Variant 1 and also as a version of Edward. Since this is about a son murdering his little sister Mary, it certainly could be classified as a rare version and incomplete of Lizie Wan (since the opening verses are missing). No date is given but Hicks died in 1953, making the date probably c. 1940s and it could be as early as mid-1930s. It was copied by her daughter Addie Hicks born in 1920.
According to oral sources (one source gives Thomas Burton as a reference but he said he didn't remember given the information) about Nora Hicks and genealogy, Nora, one of the Mast Gap Hicks, learned many of her ballads from her grandmother Fanny Hicks. These ballads can be traced back to David Hicks and his son, Big Sammy, some of the first settlers in the Beech Mountain area circa 1770. David's father, Samuel was born c. 1695 in the Tuckahoe Creek area (along the James River, Henrico County) of Virginia which became Goochland County. Samuel moved to North Carolina shortly before he died in 1772. It's easy to understand that many of the Hicks ballads came to Virginia in the 1600s and became preserved when they moved to the NC mountains in the 1700s.
R. Matteson 2013]
LITTLE SISTER MARY- Sung by Nora Hicks, 1886-1953 Location: Sugar Grove, Watauga County, North Carolina; Copied by Addie Hicks; Given me by Edith Walker
How come that blood on your shirt sleeves
Oh, tell me, son, I pray
It is the blood of a little gray mare
That ploughed that ground for me.
It is too much for a little gray mare,
Oh, tell me, son, I pray
It is the blood of a little gray hound
That run that deer for me.
How come that blood on your shirt sleeve?
Oh, tell me, son, I pray.
It is the blood of a little gray hound
That ran that deer for me.
How come that blood onyour shirt sleeves?
Oh, tell me, son, I pray.
It is the blood of little Sister Mary
I killed her yesterday.
Oh, what did you kill her own? [1]
Oh, tell me son, I pray.
I killer her own a willow bush
That will never make a tree.
Oh, what will you do when your papa comes
Oh, tell me son, I pray.
I'll sit my foot on younder boat
I'll sail across the sea.
Oh, when are you coming back?
Oh tell me, son, I pray.
I am never coming back until the sea goes drie
And you'll know that never be.
1. own= with