Lord Randall- Frank Profitt (NC) Sung to him very early, circa 1920s; documented, Warner 1959.
[From Traditional American Folk Songs; Warner 1984. Warner's noted follow.
Frank Proffitt (June 1, 1913– November 24, 1965) from Beech Mountain, NC was an old time banjoist and performer. His recording of the ballad "Tom Dooley", learned from his aunt Nancy Prather and later recorded by the Kingston Trio led to the resurgence of folk music in the 1960s. My grandfather Maurice Matteson showed Warner his Hicks dulcimer in NYC in 1937. Warner met Proffitt the next year when he came to Beech Mountain to get a dulcimer from Nathan Hicks, his father-in-law.
Proffitt knew two versions of Lord Randal- this is the newer one, he learned from his mother's side (Rebecca Alice Creed)- the older one, probably from Nancy Prather- although he doesn't name her.
R. Matteson 2011, 2014]
107. Lord Randall- Frank Proffitt, 1959
This ballad (No. 12) is not as old as many Child ballads. In the English tradition it goes back only to the end of the eighteenth century, although Belden says that an Italian text exists from the 1600s. It is widely known and collected both in Europe and America, always, as Belden mentions, "in substantially the same dialogue form, with repetition." Gerould, in The Ballad of Tradition, notes that it has been found "as far east as Czechoslovakia and Hungary, as far north as Scotland and Sweden, and as far south as Calabria." For its widespread recoveries in North America see Coffin and Renwick. Belden has extended notes and mentions the places where the ballad has been found in Britain and Ireland.
Brown prints four texts from North Carolina, none of them complete. 'We have been most interested in the fact that Frank Proffitt knew this very fine and complete version- even including the verse about the death of the dogs, which is missing from many variants. Frank also knew and recorded for us a more modern, somewhat Americanized version of this ballad which he called "Jimmy Ransome." Frank said to us:
These two songs was sung to me very early, and for that reason, I guess, the melody and words was very hard to separate, one from the other. Maybe I have not done so completely. "Jimmy Ransome" is a later song than "Lord Randall." It was sung on my mother's side of the family, and "Lord Randall" on my father's. I wonder if "Jimmy Ransome" come in along the line as a poison case, maybe. Maybe somebody took the name "Ransome" to rhyme with "handsome." The melody of the older ballad is almost not musical but has the feeling of all the other ballads of olden days. It has a broken time which only the very best of authentic balladeers may be able to grasp.
See: Belden, 241 Brown, Vol. 2,39; Child No. 12, 22 ("Lord Randal"); Coffin and Renwick, 36, 216.
LORD RANDALL- as sung by Frank Proffitt, 1959, learned when he was young.
"Oh it's where have you been Lord Randal my son,
Where have you been my handsome young one?"
"I've been a-hunting and a rambling, Mother make my bed soon,
I'm a tuckered and a-wearied and fain would lie down."
"What did you spy while a-hunting, Lord Randall my son?
What did you spy while a-hunting, my handsome young one?"
"My bonnie, so true, Mother, make my bed soon,
I'm a-tuckered and a-wearied, and I fain would lie doon."
"What did you eat for your supper, Lord Randall my son,
What did you eat for your supper, my handsome young one?"
"Fried eels and fried onions, Mother, make my bed soon,
I'm sick unto death, and I fain would lie doon."
"Was there scraps from the table, Lord Randall my son,
'Was there scraps from the table, my handsome young one?"
"My dogs eat them all, Mother, make my bed soon,
I am sick to the heart, and I fain would lie doon."
"Where might be your dogs, Lord Randall my son,
Where might be your dogs, my handsome young one?"
"They ups and they died, Mother, make my bed soon,
I am sick unto death, and I fain would lie doon."
"I'm a-feared you are pizened, Lord Randall my son,
I'm a-feared you are pizened, my handsome young one."
"I'm a-feared I am pizened, Mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick unto death, and I fain would lie doon."
"What are you leaving to your Mother, Lord Randall my son,
What are you leaving to your Mother, my handsome young one?"
"My cattle and oxen, Mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick unto death, and I fain would lie doon."
"What are you leaving to your sister, Lord Randall my son,
"What are you leaving to your sister, my handsome young one?"
"My gold and my silver, Mother, make my bed soon,
I'm sick unto death, and I fain would lie doon."
"What are you leaving to your brother, Lord Randall my son?
What are you leaving to your brother, my handsome young one?"
"My houses and lands, Mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick unto death, and I fain would lie doon."
"'What are you leaving to your bonnie love, Randall my son,
What are you leaving to your bonnie love, my handsome young one?"
"Hell fire and damnation, Mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick unto death, and I fain would lie doon."