Sweet William- Mrs. Harley (Worc) 1893 Broadwood
[From: English County Songs edited by Lucy Etheldred Broadwood, John Alexander Fuller-Maitland; Leadenhall Press, London, 1893. Broadwood's notes, supplied by Harley, follow. Reprinted in Folk Tales of the West Midlands, page 62, 1952.
It's possible that Broadwood's title (Sweet William) was instrumental in the song being titled, Sweet William in other versions (see Baring-Gould's version in 1895) and Sharp using this title as his master title. Bewdley is a small riverside town and civil parish in the Wyre Forest District of Worcestershire, England, along the Severn Valley a few miles to the west of Kidderminster and 22 miles south west of Birmingham.
Baring-Gould sent a letter to Broadwood in 1894 with a version he collected, see RVWL online.
R. Matteson 2017]
This song is a great favourite with the boys of Bewdley, who can give no account of it, except that " there was an old man as used to sing it." The best singer when he has ended the song always turns to the audience, remarking emphatically " Till apples grows on an orange-tree," probably the usual custom of the old ballad-singers.
Sweet William- Words and tune, with notes from Margaret Harley, Bewdley.
1. O father, father, come build me a boat,
That on this wild ocean I may float,
And every ship that I chance to meet
I will enquire for my William sweet.
2 I had not sailed more than half an hour
Before I met with a man on board (man of war?)
"Kind captain, captain, come tell me true,
Is my sweet William on board with you?"
3 "Oh no, fine lady, he is not here,
That he is drowned most breaks my fear[1],
For the other night when the wind blew high
That's when you lost your sweet sailor boy."
4 I'll set me down, and I'll write a song,
I'll write it neat, and I'll write it long,
And at every word I will drop a tear,
And in every line I'll set my Willie dear.
5 I wish, I wish, but it's all in vain,
I wish I was a sweet maid again,
But a maid, a maid I never shall be
Till apples grow on an orange-tree.
For a maid, a maid I shall never be,
Till apples grow on an orange-tree.
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1. It makes me fear?