My Fine Handsome Boy- G. (ME) 1908 Barry W
[My title. From: New Ballad Texts by Phillips Barry; The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 24, No. 93 (Jul. - Sep., 1911), pp. 344-3. Barry gives version W from Folk-Songs of the North Atlantic States published in 1908. He quoted two verses of this version in his Irish Come-Ye's article. His notes follow.
R. Matteson 2011, 2014]
"Lord Randall," W, Folk-Songs of the North Atlantic States, from G., Brunswick, Me., native of Ireland. The seventh stanza evidently does not belong to the same version of the ballad as stanzas 1-6.
3. [My Fine Handsome Boy] LORD RANDALL (Child, 12)
1. "What had you for dinner, my handsome fine boy?
What had you for dinner, my heart's loving joy?"
"I had bread, meat and poison, mother make my bed now,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I want to lie down."
2. "What is it you leave to your father, my handsome fine boy?
What is it you leave to your father, my heart's loving joy?"
"My horses and hounds, mother make my bed now,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I want to lie down."
3. "What is it you leave to your brother, my handsome fine boy?
What is it you leave to your brother, my heart's loving joy?"
"My dog and my gun, mother make my bed now,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I want to lie down."
4. "What is it you leave to your sister, my handsome fine boy?
What is it you leave to your sister, my heart's loving joy?"
"My houses and lands, mother make my bed now,
For I'm sick to the heart and I want to lie down."
5. "What is it you leave to your mother, my handsome fine boy?
What is it you leave to your mother, my heart's loving joy?"
"The gates of Heaven open, mother, make my bed now,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I want to lie down."
6. "What is it you leave to your wife, my handsome fine boy?
What is it you leave to your wife, my heart's loving joy?"
"The gates of Hell open, mother make my bed now,
For I'm sick to the heart, and I want to lie down."
7. "Where will you be buried, now, Johnny, my man,
Where will you be buried, my own loving son?"
"Above in the churchyard, mother I'll take a long sleep,
With a stone at my head, and a sod at my feet."