Lord Lovel- Broadside; Dixon 1846; Child H a.
[Child points out: H. a. 10[1]. church-steeple too, perhaps a misprint for top. Although other broadsides appear with "too" instead of "top." (see Bodelian Library).
At the bottom of the page Dixon's text is found. H b., taken from Davidson's 1853 Universal Melodist, is a rewrite (burlesque) of the earlier broadside. (See: Child H b. with music). A broadside similar to Dixon's was published by J. Andrews in New York circa 1853. Most of the US versions are similar to Child H a.
R. Matteson 2012]
Lord Lovel- Version H a.; Child 75 Lord Lovel
a. London broadside of 1846, in Dixon's Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 78, Percy Society, vol. xix.
1 Lord Lovel he stood at his castle-gate,
Combing his milk-white steed,
When up came Lady Nancy Belle,
To wish her lover good speed, speed,
To wish her lover good speed.
2 'Where are you going, Lord Lovel?' she said,
'Oh where are you going?' said she;
'I'm going, my Lady Nancy Belle,
Strange countries for to see.'
3 'When will you be back, Lord Lovel?' she said,
'Oh when will you come back?' said she;
'In a year or two, or three, at the most,
I'll return to my fair Nancy.'
4 But he had not been gone a year and a day,
Strange countries for to see,
When languishing thoughts came into his head,
Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.
5 So he rode, and he rode, on his milk-white steed,
Till he came to London town,
And there he heard St Pancras bells,
And the people all mourning round.
6 'Oh what is the matter?' Lord Lovel he said,
'Oh what is the matter?' said he;
'A lord's lady is dead,' a woman replied,
'And some call her Lady Nancy.'
7 So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
And the shroud he turned down,
And there he kissed her clay-cold lips,
Till the tears came trickling down.
8 Lady Nancy she died, as it might be, today,
Lord Lovel he died as tomorrow;
Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.
9 Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras church,
Lord Lovel was laid in the choir;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of her lover's a briar.
10 They grew, and they grew, to the church-steeple too,
And then they could grow no higher;
So there they entwined in a true-lover's knot,
For all lovers true to admire.
_______________
From: Ancient Poems, Ballads and Songs of the Peasantry of England, p. 78; Volume 17 edited by James Henry Dixon
VI. Lord Lovel
THE ballad of Lord Lovel is from a broadside printed in the metropolis during the present year. A version may be seen in Kiuloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, where it is given as taken down from the recitation of a lady in Roxburghshire. Mr. M. A. Richardson, the editor of the Local Historians Table Book, says that the ballad is ancient, and the hero is traditionally believed to have been one of the family of Lovele, or Delavalle, of Northumberland: the London printers say that their copy is very old. The two last verses are common to many ballads. From the tune being that to which the old ditty of Johnnie o’ Cockelsmuir is sung, it is not improbable that the story is of Northumbrian or Border origin.
Lord Lovel he stood at his castle gate,
Combing his milk-white steed;
When up came Lady Nancy Belle,
To wish her lover good speed, speed,
To wish her lover good speed.
Where are you going, Lord Lovel? she said,
Oh! where are you going? said she;
I’m going, my Lady Nancy Belle,
Strange countries for to see, see,
Strange countries for to see.
When will you be back, Lord Lovel? she said,
Oh! when will you come back? said she;
In a year or two—or three, at the most,
I’ll return to my fair Nancy, -cy,
I’ll return to my fair Nancy.
But he had not been gone a year and a day,
Strange countries for to see;
When languishing thoughts came into his head,
Lady Nancy Belle he would go see, see,
Lady Nancy Belle he would go see.
So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed,
Till he came to London town;
And there he heard St. Pancras bells,
And the people all mourning round, round,
And the people all mourning round.
Oh! what is the matter? Lord Lovel he said,
Oh! what is the matter? said he;
A lord’s lady is dead, a woman replied,
And some call her Lady Nancy-cy,
And some call her Lady Nancy.
So he ordered the grave to be opened wide,
And the shroud he turned down,
And there he kissed her clay-cold lips,
Till the tears came trickling down, down,
Till the tears came trickling down.
Lady Nancy she died, as it might be to-day,
Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow;
Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow, sorrow,
Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow.
Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras church,
Lord Lovel was laid in the choir;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of her lover’s a briar, briar,
And out of her lover’s a briar.
They grew, and they grew, to the church steeple, too,
And then they could grow no higher;
So there they entwined in a true-lover’s knot,
For all lovers true to admire-mire,
For all lovers true to admire.