Oxford Girl- Almeda Riddle (AR) c.1914 Wolf A
[From The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection at Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas (two recordings) the oldest (1957) is first. Also in "A Singer and Her Songs" Abrahams, 1970.
In her book she says she learned it from an MS written by her husband around 1914. Some of the stanzas in the book are not the way she sang it for Wolf in 1959 and 1970. Riddle, as well as knowing a number of songs and ballads, also learned from printed material in books. in this case the 1959 version seems to be close to the way she sang it, while the book version is not as traditional.
R. Matteson 2016]
THE OXFORD GIRL - Sung by Mrs. Almeda Riddle as recorded by John Quincy Wolf in Miller, AR on 8/22/57. Learned from her husband's MS when she was 16.
'Twas in the town of Oxford,
Where I did live and dwell.
'Twas in the town of Oxford
I run a flour mill.
I fell in love with an Oxford girl
With dark and darling eyes.
I asked her if she'd marry me,
And me she never denied.
I called her at her sister's house[1]
At eight o'clock one night.
I asked her if she'd walk with me
And appoint our wedding day.
We walked along and talked along
'Til we came to level ground.
Then I picked up a hedgewood stick
And knocked this fair maid down.
She fell upon her bended knees;
"Oh, Willie," she did cry.
"Oh, Willie, dear, don't murder me;
I'm not prepared to die."
I paid no attention to her piteous appeal,
Just beat her more and more,
'Til all around where the dead body lay
Was in a bloody gore[2].
Then I picked her up by her little white hand,
And I threw her 'round and 'round.
I dragged her down to the riverside
And threw her in to drown.
I then returned to my mother's home
About twelve o'clock that night.
My mother, being worried,
Woke up in a fright.
"Oh, God, my son, now what have you done
That's bloodied your hands and clothes?"
The answer that I gave to her
Was, "Bleeding at the nose."
I asked her for a handkerchief
To bind my aching head,
And also for a candle
To light myself to bed.
But I rolled and I tumbled
And no rest could I find,
For the flames of hell rolled 'round me
And in my eyes did shine.
I rolled and tumbled,
I prayed but found no rest,
For a burning, burning, burning hell
Was burning in my breast.
'Bout two or three days after this,
That Oxford girl was found
A-floating down the river
That led through Oxford town.
Her sister threw my life away
Without a fear or doubt.
Her sister swore I was the man
Who led her sister out.
Oh, God, they're going to hang me now
Between the earth and sky.
Oh, God, they're going to hang me,
The death I hate to die.
But I'd not mind the hanging[3],
If only I had rest
From this burning, burning, burning hell
That's burning in my breast.
1. She adds a stanza here in her book but it doesn't seem traditional.
2. Originally "almost in a roar,"
3. This stanza is her own creation
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THE OXFORD GIRL (Version 2) Sung by: Almeda Riddle. Recorded on 5/14/70
Link to listen to the original recording:
http://web.lyon.edu/wolfcollection/songs/riddleoxford1304.html
(Mrs. Riddle: “Before you turn it on, let's let me see if I can get the right . . . [sings a little]. I can’t . . . see if I’m getting some . . . [sings a little]. I’ve got to get it just as low as I can possibly get the low part if I ever reach it. I used to could run three octaves. Now I do well if I get one.”)
‘Twas in the town of Oxford,
Where I did live and dwell,
‘Twas in the town of Oxford,
I run my flour mill.
I fell in love with an Oxford girl,
Who had dark and darling eyes.
I asked . . .
(Mrs. Riddle: “Oh, let’s skip that key up a little bit more. Stop it, and let me get a better key than that.”)
I fell in love with an Oxford girl,
Who had dark and darling eyes.
I asked her would she marry me,
And me she nothing denied.
I called at her sister’s house
About eight o’clock one night.
I asked her, would she walk with me,
And we’d name our wedding day.
We walked along and talked along,
And we came to thicketed ground.
Then I picked up a hedgewood stick,
And I knocked that fair maid down.
She fell upon her bended knees.
“Oh, mercy,” she did cry.
“Willie, dear, don’t murder me here;
I’m not prepared to die.”
But I paid no attention to the piteous appeal,
But I beat her more and more,
‘Til all around where the poor girl lay
Was in a bloody gore.
Then I picked her up by her little white hand,
And I swung her body around.
I took her down to the riverside
And threw her in to drown.
(Mrs. Riddle: “Can you stand some more, Jim? He keeps flinching . . .”)
Then I returned to my mother’s home,
About twelve o’clock at night.
My mother, being worried for me,
Woke up in a fright.
“Oh, God, my son, now what have you done
That has bloodied your hands and clothes?”
And the answer I gave my mother
Was, “Bleeding at the nose.”
I asked her for a handkerchief
To bind my aching head.
I asked her for a candle, too,
To light my way to bed.
But I rolled and I tossed upon my bed,
And no rest could I find,
For the flames of Hell seemed all ‘round me,
And in my eyes would shine.
I tossed and tumbled all night long,
And still could find no rest,
But a burning, burning, burning hell
Was a-burning in my breast.
(Mrs. Riddle: “Oh, let’s see. Well, about two or three weeks after that, the Oxford girl was found floating down the river that ran through Oxford town.”)
Her sister swore my life away,
Without a thought of doubt.
Her sister swore that I was the man
Who led her sister out.
Oh, God, they’re going to hang me
Between the earth and sky.
Oh, God, they’re going to hang me now;
It’s a death I hate to die.
But I would not mind dying
If I thought t’would bring me rest
From this burning, burning, burning hell
That keeps burning in my breast.