Six King's Daughters- Bryant (IN) 1938 Lomax REC
[Text from: Toward the Indexing of Ballad Texts by George List; The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 81, No. 319 (Jan. - Mar., 1968), pp. 44-61.
R. Matteson 2014]
"Six King's Daughters." ATL 424.12. Sung by Mrs. T. R. Bryant, Evansville, Indiana, April 8, 1938. Collected by Alan and Elizabeth Lomax for the Library of Congress.
1. "He followed me up and he followed me around
And he followed me around all day.
I had not power to speak a word,
Nor tongue to answer nay, O, nay,
Nor tongue to answer nay."
2. "Go bring me some of your father's gold
And some of your mother's fee
And I'll take you to the salt sea sands,
And there we'll marry at sea, O, sea,
And there we'll marry at sea."
3. She mounted upon a milk white steed
And he the iron gray,
And they rode till they came to the salt sea sands,
Three hours before 'twas day, O, day,
Three hours before 'twas day.
4. "Alight, alight, my pretty Polly Ann,
Alight, alight," said he,
"For six king's daughters have I drownded here
And the seventh one you shall be, O, be,
And the seventh one you shall be."
5. "Take off, take off those fine, fine clothes
And lay them on this rock,
For they are too fine and costelly
To lie in the sea and rot, O rot,
To lay in the sea and rot."
6. "It's turn your face three times around,
Your back to the leaves on the tree."
Then she picked him up most manfully
And plunged him into the sea, O, sea,
And plunged him into the sea.
7. "Help me out, help me out, my pretty Polly Ann,
Help me out, help me out," said he,
"And we will go to the next sea sands,
And there we'll marry at sea, O, sea,
And there we'll marry at sea."
8. "Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted one,
Lie there instead of me.
If six king's daughters you have drownded here
The seventh one you shall be, O, be,
The seventh one you shall be."
9. She mounted up on her milk white steed,
And led the iron gray,
And she rode till she came to her own father's door
Three hours before it was day, O, day,
Three hours before 'twas day.
10. "Hush up, hush up, my pretty parrot,
Don't tell no tales on me.
Your cage shall be lined with beads of gold
And hung on a willow tree, O, tree.