Love Henry- Younger (AR-OK) c1889 Moores A
[From the Moores, Ballads and Folk Songs of the Southwest, 1964. Despite the 1964 date of publication, most of the ballads are old from the early 1900s. If the information supplied by the Moores is correct, then John Younger (the informant) had an outlaw father named Robert Ewing "Bob" Younger (October 29, 1853 – September 16, 1889) the brother of Cole Younger, who both teamed up with Jesse James. Apparently after his father died the family moved to Oklahoma and I'm guestimating a date of 1889 with no real basis in fact. After the Moores' notes is a bio on Robert Younger, the informants father.
R. Matteson 2014]
17. Young Hunting:
Young Hunting (Child, No. 68) as sung by Oklahomans resembles the Child F story, which closes with the conversation between the murderer and the parrot. The rest of the story relates the discovery of a body by the King's duckers and the lady's declaration of innocence and her accusation of one of her maids. It closes with a trial by fire which leaves the maid unharmed but burns up the guilty lady. For references and texts, see Arnold, 60-61; Barry, Eckstorm, and Smyth, 122-28; Belden, 34-37; Chappell, 2l-22; Child, II, 142-55; Cox, 42-44; Creighton and Senior, 36-39; Davis, 282-90; Hudson, 77-78; Journal, Vol. XVIII, 295 (Barry), Vol. XX, 252 (Pettit), Vol. XXX, 297 (Kittredge), Vol. LII, 30 (Treat) ; Morris, 263-65; Owens, 44-45; Randolph, I, 90-93; Sandburg,64-65; Scarborough, Song Catcher,134-36; Sharp, I, 101-14; and Smith, 107.
Wiki: Robert Ewing "Bob" Younger (October 29, 1853 – September 16, 1889) was an American criminal and outlaw, the younger brother of Cole, Jim and John Younger. He was a member of the James-Younger gang.
Born in Missouri on October 29, 1853, Robert was the thirteenth of fourteen children born to Henry Washington Younger and Bersheba Leighton Fristoe. During the Civil War his brothers Cole and Jim rode with Quantrill's Raiders. Bob was only 8 when the war broke out in 1861. He saw his father killed by Union soldiers and his home burned to the ground.
After the war, his brothers formed the James-Younger gang with Frank and Jesse James. For ten years the gang robbed banks, trains, and stage coaches across Missouri, Kansas, and other nearby states. Bob Younger is believed to have first joined the gang in 1873.
In September 1876 the gang attempted to rob the First National Bank in Northfield, Minnesota. The townspeople decided to fight back, and in the ensuing shootout all three of the Younger brothers were captured. Bob was wounded in the elbow and later in the chest. Two Northfield citizens were killed in the botched raid.
Bob Younger was convicted and sentenced to life imprisonment. He died of tuberculosis in prison at Stillwater, Minnesota on September 16, 1889 aged 35 years.
A. Love Henry, sung by John Younger of Tulsa.
"Is this Henry, my own true love,
Or is it brother John?
Oh, is this Henry, my own true love?
From hunting he's come home,
From hunting he's come home.
"Alight, alight, love Henry," she said,
"Alight and stay all night;
And I will keep you sweet company,
While the candles burn all night,
While the candles burn all night."
"I can't light down, nor I shan't light down,
Nor I can't stay all night;
I must return to yonder green bay,
Where I stayed and slept last night,
Where I stayed and slept last night."
He leaned over the saddle fair;
He kissed her ruby lips.
She had a keen penknife in her hand,
And wounded him full deep,
And wounded him full deep.
"Ride on, ride on, love Henry," she said,
"And ride beneath the sun.
And you will find some physicians there
Can cure your bleeding wound,
Can cure your bleeding wound."
"I can't ride on, nor I shan't ride on,
Nor ride beneath the sun;
For there's no physician under the sun
Can cure my bleeding wound,
Can cure by bleeding wound."
Up speaks, up speaks this pretty little bird,
That sets in yondos tree,
"Go home, go home, you false-hearted love,
And pay your girl her dues,
And pay your girl her dues."
"Come down, come down, you pretty little bird,
And set on my right knee;
I'll have your cage built out of gold,
And hung on a willow tree,
And hung on a willow tree."
"I can't come down, I shan't come down,
Nor set on your right knee;
For you have killed your own true love,
And what would you do to me,
And what would you do to me?"
"If I had my bow all bent," said she,
"And arrow in the sling,
I'd let fly at your gold-yellow breast,
That rests on the leaves bright and green,
That rests on the leaves bright and green."
"If you had your bow all bent,
And arrow in the sling,
I'd fly so high up in the sky,
You'd never see me again,
You'd never see me again."