Little Son Hugh- Banks (KY) 1917 from Sharp's MS
[My title. Collected by Raine c. 1917 without music. A copy is found in Sharp MSS., 2788. See Sharp C for another "Son Hugh" reference. This is a variant of the "water birch" and also has the rare "bury me in the church" ending.
R. Matteson 2015]
Little Son Hugh- Sung by Lucy Banks, of Paint Lick, Kentucky; c. 1917. Collected by Prof. James Watt Raine.
The hallowday had just come on
The dew drops they did fall,
And every scholar of that school
Went out to playing ball, ball, ball,
Went out to playing ball.
* * * *
Up stepped a lady in the door,
With some apples in her hand,
Saying: Come, come, my little son Hugh,
And one of these you shall have.
I won't, nor I cant, nor i will not go,
To thee I will not come,
For if my mother knew of it,
She would make my red blood run.
She took him by the lily-white hand,
And led him to yonder gate,
Where they were all lying asleep,
And none of them awake.
She took out a little penknife,
And sticked him like a swine,
And then she took a basin in her hand,
To catch his heart's blood in.
She locked him up in a little tin trunk,
And bade him to lie still and sleep,
And then she went out to the cold, deep well,
Where it was cold and deep.
She throwed him in saying: sink, sink, sink,
To never rise again.
For it would be a scandal to me,
And to all of my kind.
The day passed off and the night came on,
All the scholars they went home,
All the mothers had little sons,
But Hugh's, and she had none.
She picked her up a little bark switch,
Went walking down the road,
Saying: If I find my little son Hugh
I'll whip him down the road.
She went on to yonder gate,
Where they were all lying asleep,
Then went on to the cold, deep well,
Where it was so cold and deep.
Saying: If you're here speak, speak, speak,
While I'm in hearing of thee,
Here I am in the cold, deep well,
With a penknife stuck through me.
Tell all my little schoolmates
Not to forget the bark and birch,
To hunt me out of the cold, deep well,
And bury me in yonder church.