Tarnished Love Tales or Colonial & Revolutionary Antiques

TARNISHED LOVE TALES or COLONIAL AND  REVOLUTIONARY ANTIQUES

BARBRA ALLEN

THE FROZEN GIRL

PRETTY POLLY

COMMON BILL  (Music arr. Alfred G. Wathall)

LITTLE SCOTCH-EE

THE HOUSE CARPENTER

A PRETTY FAIR MAID (Music arr. Elizabeth Marshall)

LORD LOVEL

THE QUAKER'S WOOING

THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS

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ALEXANDER WIUTKLAW in Book of Scottish Ballads:
It may be considered remarkable, that it was not till English literature had reached its highest  point of refinement it was not until the days of Addison and Pope, or, still later, of Gray and  Goldsmith that the rude ballad poetry of the people became an object of interest to the learned.  In the Spectator , Addison first drew the attention of what was then called the "polite world" to  the merits of the ballad of Chevy-Chase; but he did so in the apologetic strain of one who was  fully prepared for the said world being surprised at him taking under his protection anything so  vulgar, or even humble. He introduces the ballad much in the manner that the fastidious yet  generous Guy Mannering may be supposed to have introduced to his lettered friends the hearty  borderer, Dandie Dinmont, with his spattered jack-boots and shaggy drednought: there was no  denying the rough and startling exterior, but many excellent qualities were to be found under it.  Up to this time, the traditionary ballads of the country were held to be of so rude a character as  to be scarcely amenable to the rules of literary criticism; no historical value seems to have been  attached to them; and with the exception of some plodding Pepys, who, for his own gratification,  stitched and preserved his "Penny Garlands," no endeavor was made to rescue them from the  perishable breath of oral tradition, or the fragile security of the pedlar's broadside.

LOUISE POUND in American Songs and Ballads:
The handing on of songs by oral tradition has become more and more curtailed. It is far from  extinct, and it is not to be expected that it will ever completely die out from the human race; but  with the spread of literacy, the increasing circulation of printed matter, the introduction of phonographs, and the removal of old-time isolation, through the agency of railroads, automobiles, and  (in these days) of airplanes, the singing of traditional songs plays a lessened role.

American folk-song as a whole has been imported from the Old World. This is becoming less  true, but it still holds. Folk-songs are still brought across the Atlantic by newcomers; and a large  percentage of the most striking and persistent pieces current in America are derived from Old  World originals, English, Scottish, or Irish. Many survive which were brought over long ago, or  they enter in new form with some shipload of immigrants. Songs recently imported still win foot-hold and then wander from community to community.

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BARBRA ALLEN
Hard-hearted Barbra Allen is a girl who figures in hundreds of ballads. In nearly all of them  Willie dies for love of her and she, with a wasted heart, goes into the grave beside him. That is the  story. But the last verse has a sequel. The rose rises from one grave, the briar from the other;  the two climb to the top of the old church tower and there intertwine. So ends the story. It has  been told and sung in hundreds of dialects. Usually the tune is stale, flat, monotonous. The one  given here has long been a favorite of mine and the friend who gave it to me, H. L. Davis, the Oregon  poet who came from the mountains of Georgia. The text is from the R. W. Gordon collection.  Sometimes, in the singing of this song, I get the feel of old, gnarled, thornapple trees and white crab-apple blossoms printed momentarily on a blue sky, of evanescent things, of the paradox of tender and cruel forces operating together in life. Perhaps something of that paradox working in the hearts  of people has kept the Barbra Allen story alive and singing through three centuries and more.

1 In London City where I once did dwell, there's where I got my learning,
I fell in love with a pretty young girl, her name was Barbra Allen.

2 I courted her for seven long years, she said she would not have me;
Then straightway home as I could go and liken to a dying.

3 I wrote her a letter on my death bed, I wrote it slow and moving;
"Go take this letter to my old true love and tell her I am dying."

4 She took the letter in her lily-white hand, she read it slow and moving;
"Go take this letter back to him, and tell him I am coming."

5 As she passed by his dying bed she saw his pale lips quivering;
"No better, no better I'll ever be until I get Barbra Allen."

6 As she passed by his dying bed; "You're very sick and almost dying,
No better, no better you will ever be, for you can't get Barbra Allen."

7 As she went down the long stair steps she heard the death bell toning,
And every bell appeared to say, "Hard-hearted Barbra Allen!"

8 As she went down the long piney walk she heard some small birds singing,
And every bird appeared to say, "Hard-hearted Barbra Allen!"

9 She looked to the East, she looked to the West, she saw the pale corpse coming
"Go bring them pale corpse unto me, and let me gaze upon them.

10 Oh, mama, mama, go make my bed, go make it soft and narrow!
Sweet Willie died today for me, I'll die for him tomorrow!"

11 They buried Sweet Willie in the old church yard, they buried Miss Barbra beside him;
And out of his grave there sprang a red rose, and out of hers a briar.

12 They grew to the top of the old church tower, they could not grow any higher,
They hooked, they tied in a true love's knot, red rose around the briar.

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THE FROZEN GIRL
An old ballad is often like an old silver dagger or an old brass pistol; it is rusty, or greenish;  it is ominous with ancient fates still operating today. Thus with Charlotte, who was worth looking  at, who was very fair, who "laughed like a gypsy queen," we are told. The tarnished tale of her  love and death on a winter night is to be found in the balladry of all the peoples of northern Europe.  As a ballad it was born where nights are bitter cold in the hard winters. It is a puppet play, told  instead of acted, but told in an easy narrative tune. The dramatic players are three: (1) Charlottie, the heroine who dies; (2) Charles, who loves her; (3) the ruthless, icy weather. In America  this is among ballads known in all the areas into which the English settlers spread; it is of mountain  and prairie. The text here is from Isadora Bennett Read as heard in an isolated mountain region of Georgia; the tune is from Dr. James Lattimore Himrod of Chicago, author of "Johnny Appleseed," who as a boy in southern Indiana heard his mother sing of "the frozen girl." Here and  elsewhere it may be noted, the mountain people take priveleges with the King's English, especially  in moments of stress and. distress. At that " monoment " may be a dramatic vocable as good as  "monument."

THE FROZEN GIRL

 1 Charlottie liv'd on a mountain top in a bleak and lonely spot,
There were no other dwellings there except her father's cot.
And yet, on many a wintry night, young swains were gathered there;
Her father kept a social board and she was very fair.

2 On a New Year's Eve as the sun went down, far looked her wishful eye
Out from the frosty win.dow pane as a merry sleigh dashed by.
At a village fifteen miles away was to be a ball that night,
And though the air was piercing cold her heart was warm and light.

3 How brightly gleamed her laughing eye, as a well known voice she heard;
And dashing up to the cottage door her lover's sleigh appeared.
"Oh, daughter dear," her mother cried, "This blanket round you fold,
Tonight is a dreadful one, you'll get your death of cold."

4 "Oh, nay, oh nay!" Charlottie cried, as she laughed like a gypsy queen,
"To ride in blankets muffled up I never would be seen;
My silken cloak is quite enough, you know 'tis lined throughout,
And there's my silken scarf to twine my head and neck about."

5 Her bonnet and her gloves were on, she leaped into the sleigh,
And swiftly they sped down the mountain side and o'er the hills away.
With muffled beat so silently five miles at length were passed,
When Charles with a few and shivering words the silence broke at last.

6 "Such a dreadful night, I never saw, the reins I scarce can hold,"
Charlottic faintly then replied, "I am exceeding cold"
He cracked his whip, he urged his steed much faster than before;
And thus five other weary miles in silence were passed o'er.

7 Said Charles: "How fast the shivering ice is gathering on my brow,"
And Charlott' then more faintly cried, "I'm growing warmer now."
Thus on they rode through frosty air and the glittering cold starlight,
Until at last the village lamps and the ballroom came in sight.

8 They reached the door and Charles sprang out, he reached his hand to her,
"Why set you there like a monoment that has no power to stir?"
He called her once, he called her twice, she answered not a word;
He asked her for her hands again, but still she never stirred.

9 He took her hand in his, 'twas cold and hard as any stone;
He tore the mantle from her face, the cold stars o'er it shone.
Then quickly to the lighted hall her lifeless form he bore;
Charlottie's eyes had closed for aye, her voice was heard no more.

10 And there he sat down by her side, while bitter tears did flow
And cried, "My own, my charming bride, 'tis you may never know."
He twined his arms around her neck, he kissed her marble brow;
His thoughts flew back to where she said, "I'm growing warmer now."

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PRETTY POLLY

[Lady Isabel and the Elf-Knight  (Child 4)

Note: This is not Pretty Polly, as version of Gosport Tragedy/Cruel ship's Carpenter.

RECORDINGS:
Jumbo (William) Brightwell, World Library of Folk and Primitive Music. Vol 1. England, Rounder 1741, CD (1998), trk# 28 [1947]  Good Order! Ladies and Gentlemen Please, Veteran VT 140CD, CD (2000), trk# 2 (False Hearted Knight)

Bill Cassidy, "Pretty Polly" (on IRTravellers01)

Paul Clayton,  British Broadside Ballads in Popular Tradition, Folkways FW 8708, LP (1957), trk# B.09 (False Hearted Knight)

Lena Bourne Fish, "Castle by the Sea" [excerpt] (on USWarnerColl01)

Mary Anne Haynes, "The Young Officer" (on Voice11)

Joe Hickerson, Drive Dull Care Away. Vol 2, Folk Legacy FSI 059, LP (1976), trk# 8

Fred Jordan,  Folk Songs of Britain, Vol 4. The Child Ballads, I, Caedmon TC 1145, LP (1961), trk# A.03 [1950s]

Sam Larner, "The Outlandish Knight" (on SLarner01)

Margaret MacArthur, MacArthur, Margaret / Ballads Thrice Twisted, Whetstone WR 05, CD (1999), trk# 11

Alan Mills and Jean Carignan. Songs, Fiddle Tunes & Folktale from Canada, Folkways FG 3532, LP (1961), trk# A.06 (Lady Isabel)

Jean Ritchie,  O Love Is Teasin', Elektra 60402-1-U, LP (1957), trk# 2.12 (False Sir John)
Jean Ritchie, British Traditional Ballads in the Southern Mountains (Vol. 1), Folkways FA 2301, LP (1961), trk# 2 (False Sir John)

Betty Smith,  For My Friends of Song, June Appal JA 018, LP (1977), trk# 5

Ralph Lee Smith, Dulcimer; More Old-Time and Traditional Music, Skyline DD 106, LP (1975), trk# 4

ALTERNATE TITLES:
King of Spain's Daughter
Lady Isabel and Her Parrot
False Hearted Knight
King William's Son
The Courting of Aramalee
May Colvin
An Outlandish Rover
The Highway Robber
The Old Beau
Halewijn
The Seventh King's Daughter
Pretty Cold Rain
Sweet William
The Six Fair Maids
The Hinges of Ivory
The Prating Parrot
King's Daughter 
Salt-Water Sea 
May Colleen/Colvin
Purdy Polly
Six King's Daughters

Listen: Lena Bourne Fish, "Castle by the Sea" [excerpt]

PRETTY POLLY

Murder is evil but what shall we say of six murders of young women for the sake of their "costly  clothing "? We are told here and in ancient Scandinavian ballads of a man who drowned six women.  But the seventh and last of his brides foiled him and sent him to his death. With all her strength  she "pushed him into the sea" and that was his end. The piece is an ancient one, a Scottish text  of it, "May Colvin," appearing in David Herd's collection published in 1776. In English ballad  books and broadsides it has been variously titled "The Old Beau," "The Outlandish Knight,"  "False Sir John," and "May Colleen." It is heard in variants in nearly all the Appalachian regions.  This version is from the R W. Gordon collection.



1. "Go get me some of your father's gold
And some of your mother's too,
And two of the finest horses he has in his stable,
For he has ten and thirty and two."

2. She got him some of her father's gold
And some of her mother's too,
And two of the finest horses he had in his stable,
For he had ten and thirty and two.

3. Then she jumped on the noble brown,
And he on the dappled gray,
And they rode till they came to the side of the sea,
Two long hours before it was day.

4. "Let me help you down, my Pretty Polly;
Let me help you down," said he.
"For it's six kings' daughters I have drowned here,
And the seventh you shall be."

5. "Now strip yourself, my Pretty Polly;
Now strip yourself," said he;
"Your clothing is too fine and over-costly
To rot in the sand of the sea."

6 "You turn your back to the leaves of the trees,
And your face to the sands of the sea;
Tis a pity such a false-hearted man as you
A naked woman should see!"

7 He turned his back to the leaves of the trees,
And his face to the sand of the sea;
And with all the strength that Pretty Polly had
She pushed him into the sea.

8 "Come, lend me your hand, my Pretty Polly;
Come, lend me your hand," said he,
"And I will be your waiting-boy,
And will wait upon you night and day."

9 "Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man!
Lie there, lie there," said she;
"As six kings' daughters you've drowned here,
Then the seventh you shall be!"

10 Then she jumped on the noble brown,
And led the dappled gray,
And rode till she came to her father's hall,
Two long hours before it was day.

11 Then up bespoke her Poll Parrot,
Sitting in his cage so gay,
"Why do you travel, rny Pretty Polly,
So long before it is day?"

12 Then up bespoke her old father,
Lying in his room so gay,
"Why do you chatter, my pretty parrot,
So long before it is day?"

13 "The cat was around and about ray cage,
And I could not get it away
So I called unto Miss Pretty Polly
To drive the cat away."

14 "Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot,
Well turned, well turned for me;
Thy cage shall be made of handbeaten gold,
Thy door of the finest ivory."
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COMMON BILL
Women keep songs alive that men would let die. R. W. Gordon and others find "Common  Bill" sung almost exclusively by women. It is not a man's song. The way of a maid with a man,  the stratagems and maneuvers of women, their changing moods and fertile excuses are presented in  the progress of this sketch dealing with Bill and the woman who was good to him, who could have  been mean but who had mercy in her heart. Verses and melody here are from Mary O. Eddy and her neighbors of Perrysville, Ohio.

COMMON BILL

1 I will tell you of a fellow,
Of a fellow I have seen;
Who is neither white nor yellow,
But is altogether green;
And his name it isn't charming,
For it's only common Bill,
And he wishes me to wed him,
But I hardly think I will.

2. He was here the other night,
And he made so long a stay
I began to think the gump-head
Would never go away;
Oh, he talked of devotion,
Of devotion pure and bright,
And don't you think the fool-killer
He nearly stayed all night.

3 And he wants me for to wed him,
And the very deuce is in it,
For he says if I refuse him
He cannot live a minute;
And you know the blessed Bible
It teaches not to kill,
And I've thought the matter over,
And I guess I'll marry Bill.
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LITTLE SCOTCH-EE
The little drama presented here is as somber with groaning shadows as certain scenes from the  plays of Shakespeare or those chapters in the Bible dealing with Samson and Delilah or the woman  known as Jezebel. Sung deliberately and with understanding of its implications, delivered as a  series of character roles and situations having contrast, it has the pride of an ancient tapestry, with  gashes of knife thrusts and splotches of red that are on second look found to be dry blood. We are indebted for this text to Reed Smith of the University of South Carolina and his original work in  "The Traditional Ballad and Its South Carolina Survivals," published by the Extension Division  of the University of South Carolina. The ballad is hoary, of many variants, sometimes called  " Young Hunting," known in America usually as "Lord Henry," "Love Henry," or "Loving Henry."  This specimen of "The Old Scotch Well," or "Little Scotch-ee," is from Miss Tressie Pierce of Columbia, South Carolina, who learned it in Alexander County, North Carolina.

LITTLE SCOTCH-EE

1 "Light, light, light, my little Scotch-ee,
And stay all night with me;
I have a bed of the very, very best,
1*11 give it up to thee,
I'll give it up to thee."

2. " I cannot light, and I will not light,
And stay all night with thee;
For there's a girl in the old Scotch Yard,
This night a-waiting for me,
This night a-waiting for me."

3. "You cannot light, and you will not light,
But from me you'll never part;"
She took a pen-knife from her side,
And pierced him in the heart,
And pierced him in the heart.

4. She called unto her little lady miss,
"Come unto me I say;
For there's a dead man in my bed,
Come carry him away,
Come carry him away."

5. She called unto her little lady miss,
"Count the hours, one, two, three;
Are the chickens a-crowing for the middle of the night,
Or are they a-crowing for day,
Or are they a-crowing for day?"

6 Some took him by the lily-white hand,
Some took him by the feet,
And threw him into a new-dug well,
Some forty feet deep,
Some forty feet deep.

7. "Light, light, light, my little birdie,
And settle on my knee;
I have a cage of the very, very best,
I'll give it up to thee,
I'll give it up to thee."

8. "I cannot light, and I will not light,
And settle on your knee;
For I'm afraid you will sarve me like you sarved
Your little Scotch-ee,
Your little Scotch-ee."
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 THE HOUSE CARPENTER
This is among the hoary and tarnished keepsakes of the ballad world. In the days before there were daily newspapers, or even weekly "intelligencers/* schools were few, and people who  could read and write were scarce. Then ballads flourished, and ballad singers were in every tavern  where men drank ale, and in every hay or rye field where men gathered the crops. The House  Carpenter, in style, story, method, has some of the leading characteristics of many of the  oldest ballads. Of course, repeating the last two lines of every verse as indicated in the music here,  is not necessary at all. Leave out the last two lines if you like, but don't forget that among antiques  this song is as quaint to some of us as a mezzotint portrait in the lid of a snuff box of one of General  Washington's staff officers.

THE HOUSE CARPENTER

1 "I have just come from the salt, salt sea,
And 'twas all on account of thee;
For I've had an offer of a king's daughter fair,
And she fain would have married me."
(Repeat the last two lines in each verse)

2. "If you've had an offer of a king's daughter fair,
I think you're much to blame;
For I've lately been married to a house carpenter,
And I think he's a nice young man."

3. "If you'll forsake your house carpenter,
And come along with me,
I will take you to where the grass grows green,
On the banks of Italy."

4. "If I'd forsake my house carpenter,
And go along with you,
And you'd have nothing to support me upon,
Oh, then what would I do?" 
 
5 "I have three ships upon the main,
All sailing for dry land,
And twenty-five jolly sailor lads
That you can have at your command."

6 She dressed herself in rich array,
AH from her golden store,
And as she walked the streets all 'round,
She shone like a glittering star.

7 She called her baby unto her,
And gave it kisses three,
Saying, "Stay at home, my pretty little babe,
And be your father's company."

8 We had not sailed more than two weeks,
I'm sure it was not three,
Till this fair maid began to weep,
And she wept most bitterly.

9 "Oh, why do you weep, my pretty maid?
Do you weep for your golden store,
Or do you weep for your house carpenter
Which you never shall see any more?"

10 "I do not weep for my house carpenter,
Or for my golden store,
But I do weep for my pretty little babe
Which I never shall see any more."

11. We had not sailed more than three weeks,
I'm sure it was not four,
Till our gallant ship she sprang a leak,
And she sank to rise no more.

12. Once around went our gallant ship,
Twice around went she,
Three limes around went our gallant ship,
And she sank to the bottom of the sea.

13. Oh, cursed be the sea-going train,
And all the sailors' lives,
For the robbing of the house carpenter,
And the taking away of his wife.
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A PRETTY FAIR MAID
Occasionally the verses of a song make a good story if only read, and not sung at all. In the  case of "A Pretty Fair Maid" there is a whimsically sweet air going with an oddly spoken story.  What lively, old, old-fashioned gossip we have here!

A PRETTY FAIR MAID

1 A pretty fair maid all in a garden,
A sailor boy came passing by;
He stepped aside and thus addressed her,
Saying, "Pretty fair maid, won't you be my bride?"

2 "I have a sweetheart on the ocean,
For seven long years has been to sea,
And if he stays for seven years longer
No other man shall marry me."

8 "Perhaps your sweetheart he is drownded,
Perhaps he's in some battle slain,
Perhaps he's to some pretty girl married,
And he shall ne'er return again."

4 "Oh! if my sweetheart he is drownded,
Or if he's in some battle slain,
Or if he's to some pretty girl married,
I'll love the girl that married him."

5 "My sweetheart he is neither drownded
Nor is he in some battle slain,
Nor is he to some pretty girl married,
For he is by my side again."

6 He put his hands in both his pockets,
His fingers they were long and slirn,
And unto me he drew a gold locket,
And to my feet his knees did bend.

7 "I have six ships all on the ocean,
And they are loaded to the brim,
And if I'm worthy of such a young lady,
I care not if they sink or swim."
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LORD LOVEL
Among the most widespread ballads in the United States is "Lord Lovel." The version here  is from the collection of Reed Smith of the University of South Carolina; the melody is from W. R.  Dehon and the text from Caroline S. Dickinson. The mood and way of this song is peculiar. It  is to be sung and not read. Why this is so, Mr. Smith explains in this note: "'Lord Lovel' clearly shows how necessary it is to deal with ballads as songs and not merely as poems. The text of 'Lord  Lovel' is sad and mournful. The tune, however, is lilting and rollicking, and with the triple repetition of the last word of the fourth line, turns the tear into a smile. The difference between reading  it as a poem and singing it as a song is the difference between tragedy and comedy."

1. Lord Lovel he stood at his castle gate,
A-combing his milk-white steed;
When along came Lady Nancy Bell,
A- wishing her lover good speed, speed, speed,
A-wishing her lover good speed.

2. "Oh where are you going, Lord Lovel?" she said;
"Oh where are you going?" said she.
"I'm going, my dear Lady Nancy Bell,
Strange countries for to see, see, see,
Strange countries for to see."

3. "When will you be back, Lord Lovel?" she said;
"When will you be back?" said she.
"In a year or two or three at the most
I'll return to my Lady Nancee-cee, cee,
I'll return to rny Lady Nancec."

4. He'd not been gone but a year and a day,
Strange countries for to see,
When languishing thoughts came into his mind
Lady Nancy Bell he would see.

5. He rode and he rode on his milk-white steed,
Till he reached fair London Town;
And there he heard St. Varney's bell
And the people all mourning around.

6. "Is any one dead?" Lord Lovel he said;
"Is any one dead?" said he.
"A lady is dead," the people all said,
"And they call her Lady Nancy."

7. He ordered the grave to be opened forthwith,
The shroud to be folded down;
And then he kissed her clay-cold lips
Till the tears came trickling down.

8. Lady Nancy she died as it might be today,
Lord Lovel he died tomorrow.
Lady Nancy she died of pure, pure grief,
Lord Lovel he died of sorrow.

9. Lady Nancy was laid in St. Clement's churchyard,
Lord Lovell was buried close by her;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of his backbone a briar.

10. They grew and they grew on the old church tower,
Till they couldn't grow up any higher;
And there they tied in a true lover's knot,
For all true lovers to admire.
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THE QUAKER'S WOOING
The Quakers were ever a stubborn people of sweet ways and deep faiths. The men wore  black hats with broad brims, the women wore black bonnets with white facings. Their love-making  may have had some of the rich though simple tinting in this old English tune and verses. Something  about it is as genuine as the wood grain of an unvarnished, black walnut, four-post bed. This  comes from Miss Harriet Louise Abbott of Bethel, Ohio, as communicated to Mary O. Eddy.

1. "I had a true love but she left me,
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
And I now am broken-hearted,
Oh, oh, oh, oh."
"Well, if she's gone I wouldn't mind her,
Fol de rol de hey ding di do.
You'll soon find one that'll prove much kinder,
Fol de rol de hey ding day."

2 "I've a house and forty servants,
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
And thcc may be the mistress of them,
Oh, oh, oh, oh."
"I'll not do your scolding for you,
Fol de rol dc hey ding di do,
'Deed I feel myself above you,
Fol de rol de hey ding day."

3 "I've a ring worth twenty shillings,
Oh, oh, oh, oh,
And thee may wear it, if thee's willing,
Oh, oh, oh, oh."
"What care I for rings or money,
Fol de rol de hey ding di do,
I'm for the man who calls me honey,
Fol de rol de hey ding day." 
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THE MAID FREED FROM THE GALLOWS
One time long ago, it seems, the law came down on a young woman. And she was to be hanged.  And her father came, her mother, her brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousins. Yet not one would help  her with gold or fee. They all wanted her hanged. Then came her true love and he freed her from  the gallows; he slacked the hangman's rope. So goes the story. We do not know just how many  centuries it has been going. The text and tune here are from the admirable Reed Smith Ballads  published by the University of South Carolina.

1. "Slack your rope, hangs-a-man, slack it for a while;
I think I see my father coming,
Riding many a mile."
"O father, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree?"
"I have not brought you gold;
I have not paid your fee;
But I have come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree."

2. "Slack your rope, hangs-a-man, slack it for a while;
I think I see my mother coming,
Riding many a mile."
"O mother, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to see me hanging
On the gallows-tree?"
"I have not brought you gold;
I have not paid your fee;
But I have come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree

(And so on for brother, sister, aunt, uncle, cousin, etc.)

3. "Slack your rope, hangs-a-man, slack it for a while;
I think I see my true-love coming
Riding many a mile."
"O true-love, have you brought me gold?
Or have you paid my fee?
Or have you come to sec me hanging
On the gallows-tree?"
"Yes, I have brought you gold;
Yes, I have paid your fee;
Nor have I come to see you hanging
On the gallows-tree."