Pretty Polly- Levi "Easter Ann" Langille (NS) 1910 Mackenzie B
[From Ballads and Sea Songs from Nova Scotia by William Roy Mackenzie- 1928. This is one of three versions Mackenzie collected about 1910 around River John, Nova Scotia. Below is an excerpt describing the informant.
R. Matteson 2014]
Excerpts from The Quest of the Ballad by William Roy Mackenzie (1919):
This brother, George Langille by name, was of course an almost incredibly old person, as may be judged by the fact that he was the uncle of Little Ned, who had not died until he was well stricken in years. George was, in fact, ninety-three years old at the time; but in his day he had also been a singer, and some prowess in song he retained to the end, concealing it jealously from everybody but his daughter, with whom he spent his last days.
These facts, however, were learned by me after George had been gathered to his fathers. The tragedy of it is that I did not learn them from his niece while he was yet in the flesh. But to indulge oneself in murderous desires with poor Susan as the object would be entirely beside the point. She simply had not been taken into the confidence of old George and his daughter, who in some way had learned that in these degenerate days the ability to sing old-fashioned songs was more likely to be regarded with merriment than with envy, and who, like many others who were once sweet singers in Israel, had found that it better consorted with their dignity to hang their harps upon the willows while in exile by the streams of Babylon.
When these mournful truths were brought home to me they were accompanied by one suggestion of hope. George's daughter, Easter Ann by name—or at least by the popular rendition of her name—still remained above ground. To her, accordingly, I prepared to resort; but, since my mind was clouded with a doubt of my ability to awaken candor in her breast, I proceeded, acting upon an accession of undeniable wisdom, to enlist the services of a doctor who had frequently repaired the body of old George while it was still animated by the spirit. Accompanied by this important ally I proceeded with a stout heart to the humble cottage of Easter Ann.
In honor of this sudden restoration to health Easter Ann then proclaimed that she might be able to mind of a few verses from another old song. "'Pretty Polly,' I sometimes calls it," she explained. We opposed no obstacle to this second performance, and she proceeded with an equally mangled but almost equally valuable version of the old ballad "Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight":
There was a lord in Ambertown,
He courted a lady gay.
And all that he wanted of this pretty maid
Was to take her life away.
"Did you say that 'Pretty Polly' was the name of the song?" I inquired when the last stanza was completed.
"No," asserted Easter Ann with sturdy finality, and with the evident suspicion that even I, with all my gentle ways, might be tempted to poke fun if I were given too obvious a chance.
"Well," I insisted, "wasn't it ever called by any name?"
"None that I ever heerd tell of," she answered, in a tone which implied that a profitless discussion had gone far enough, "but you've got plenty of larnin'. Make up a name for it to suit yourself."
-------------p. 175
Another example of the irrational and meaningless word unquestioningly retained in the belief that it is correct, even though unintelligible, occurs in one of my versions of "Pretty Polly," which is the modern substitute for the old title "Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight." When Polly returns from the river where she has drowned her false lover the parrot from its cage asks an excited question which awakens Polly's father and comes near to giving away the whole escapade. But when the father inquires the cause of the parrot's excitement the latter, with ready wit, shields its mistress with the following reply:
The old cat had got up to my littock so high,
And I was afraid she was going to eat me,
And I was calling for Pretty Polly
To go drive the old cat away.
This stanza occurs in the version sung to me by Easter Ann Langille, daughter of George Langille of Marshville, one of the old heroic race of ballad singers who was gathered to his fathers in consequence of my determination to seek him out and copy down all the ballads that he knew— all of which I have related in a previous chapter of this book. When Easter Ann had finished singing the ballad to me I asked her what a littock was, and she regarded me for a space with a sardonic eye.
"Well now," she said at last, "I know what ye'll be askin' me for next. Ye'll be askin' me to write a dictionary for ye to take back to College with ye. If a great scholar like you doesn't know what a littock is, I'd like to know how ye can expect a poor ignorant old woman to know."
C. "Pretty Polly" from the the singing and recitation or Mrs. Levi "Easter Ann" Langille, Marshville, Pictou County.
1 There was a lord in Ambertown
Courted a lady fair,
And all he wanted of this pretty fair maid
Was to take her life away.
2 Go get me some of your father's gold
And some of your mother's fees,
And two of the nags from in your father's stall
Where there stands thirty and three."
3 So she mounted on her steed white milk,
And he on the dappling grey,
And they rode forward to the sea,
Two hours before it was day.
4 "Light off, light off thy steed white milk,
And deliver it unto me,
For six pretty maids I have drownded here,
And the seventh one thou shall be.
S "Take off, take off thy bonny silk plaid,
And deliver it unto me.
Methinks they are too rich and gay
To rot in the salt salt sea."
6 "If I must take off my bonny silk plaid,
Likewise my golden stays,
You must turn your back around to me
And face yon willow tree."
7 He turned himself around about
To face yon willow tree;
She grasped him by the middle so small,
And she tumbled him into the sea.
8 So he rolled high and he rolled low
Till he rolled to the seaside.
"Stretch forth your hand, my pretty Polly,
And I'll make you my bride."
9 "Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man,
Lie there instead of me,
For six pretty maids thou hast drownded here,
But the seventh hath drownded thee!"
10 She mounted on her steed white milk,
And she led her dappling grey,
And she rode forward to her father's door
An hour before it was day.
11 The old man he, it's being awoke,
And heard all that was said.
"What were you prittling and prattling, my pretty Polly,
And keeping me awake all night long? "
12 "The old cat had got up to my littock[1] so high,
And I was afraid she was going to eat me,
And I was calling for Pretty Polly
To go drive the old cat away."
13 "Don't prittle, don't prattle, my pretty Polly,
Nor tell any tales on me.
Your cage shall be made of the glittering gold
Instead of the greenwood tree."
1. I assume it means "window," see above- informant has no idea what this means