Pretty Polly Ann- Mary Grant (Missouri) 1927
[From Vance Radolph's Ozark Folksongs; Volume 1- Ballads; 1946; This version is actually titled by Randolph after the parrot's name and shows the confusion between the names of the girl and parrot. A more appropriate title would be Pretty Polly. The ending stanza is unique.
R. Matteson 2014]
PRETTY POLLY ANN- Sung by Mrs. Mary Grant (Anderson, Missouri) Sept. 6, 1927; Randolph I- Ballads
He follered me up, he follered me down,
He follered me into th' room.
An' I had not th' power to flee from him,
Nor th' tongue to tell him nay, nay, nay
Nor th' tongue to tell him nay.
She throwed herself on the bony bony brown,
An' he rid the dapply gray,
So they rid away to the howlin' sea
All on a long summer's day, day, day,
All on a long summer's day.
Oh give me your hand, Pretty Polly,
Oh give me your hand, says he,
I've drownded six pretty fair maids here
An' you the seventh shall be, be, be,
An' you the seventh shall be!
Turn yourself three times around
An' your face to the greenleaf tree,
She picked him up by the middle of the waist
An' throwed him into the sea, sea, sea,
An' throwed him into the sea.
Oh give me your hand, Pretty Polly,
Oh give me your hand, says he,
An' I'll take you back to your father's house
An' married we will be, be, be,
An' married we will be.
Lay there, lay there, you salt-hearted man,
Lay there in the place of me.
I can get back to my father's house
Without help or thanks from thee, thee, thee,
Without help or thanks from thee.
She throwed herself on the bony bony brown,
An' she led the dapply gray,
An' then got into her father's house
Three hours before 'twas day, day, day,
Three hours before 'twas day.
She put the horses right where they stood,
An' the gold right where it lay,
An' then she got into her own chamber room
Between midnight an' day, day, day,
Between midnight an' day.
Fly down, fly down, my Pretty Polly Ann,
An' set on my right knee,
An' I'll bind your cage with a yaller wisp o' gold,
An' hang it on a green willow tree, tree, tree,
An' hang it on a green willow tree;
Oh I caint fly down, an' I won't fly down,
An' set on your right knee,
For you have murdered your own true love,
An' you would murder me, me, me,
An' you would murder me!