Lord Lovell- Bullet (MD) pre1945 Abrams Var. 1
[My date. This is Lord Lovel, Variant 1 from the Abrams collection at App State. I've done some minor editing of punctuation and spelling.
R. Matteson 2015]
Lord Lovell- Sung by Rebecca W. de Bullet of Catonsville, Baltimore County, Maryland.
Lord Lovell, he stood at his Castle gate,
A-combing his milk white steed,
When out came Lady Nancy Bell
And wishes her lover good-speed, speed, speed,
And wishes her lover good-speed.
Oh, where are you going Lord Lovell, she siad.
Oh, where are you going? said she.
I am going, my Lady Nancy Bell,
Strange countries for to see, see, see,
Strange countries for to see.
When will you be back, Lord Lovell, she said,
When will you be back? said she.
In the course of a year or two at the most,
I'll return to my Lady Nan-cee, cee, cee,
I'll return to my Lady Nan-cee.
He had not been gone but a year and a day ,
Strange countries for to see,
When the self-same thought came into his mind,
I'll return to my Lady Nan-cee, cee, cee,
I'll return to my Lady Nan-cee.
He rode and he ode on his milk white steed,
Until he came to London town,
And there he heard St Parsons bells,
And saw them all mourning round, round, round,
And saw them all mourning round.
Oh! what is the matter, Lord Lovell, said.
Oh! what is the matter, said he.
The Lord Lady's dead, a woman replied,
Some call her Lady Nan-cee, cee, cee
Some call her Lady Nan-cee.
He ordered the coffin to be opened wide,
And the shroud to be doubled down,
And there he kissed her clay cold lips,
'Til the tears came trickling down, down, down,
'Til the tears came trickling down.
Lady Nancy Bell died as it were today,
Lord Lovell he died as tomorrow,
Lady Nancy Bell died pf pure, pure grief.
And Lord Lovell he died of sorrow, sorrow, sorrow,
And Lord Lovell he died of sorrow.
Lady Nancy Bell was laid in St Parsons church.
Lord Lovell was laid in the choir.
And out of her breast there grew a red rose,
And out of Lord Lovell's a briar, briar, briar,
And out of Lord Lovell's a briar.
They grew and they grew to the church steeple top,
'Til they could grow no higher,
and then they entwined in a truelovers knot,
For all truelovers to admire, mire, mire,
For all truelovers to admire.