The Brown Girl- McCord (Mo.) c.1900 Randolph I
[My title. Full version from Vance Randolph's Ozark Folksongs, vol. 1- Ballads, 1946. Stanza 1 was collected from the informant in 1950, she used this introduction:
" . . . 'please come solve this riddle— come riddle to me how I'll make my new dress.' Or, 'Elmer was drunk again last night,' she'd say to her mother, 'Come riddle to me— I want you to riddle to me what I'll do with Elmer.' In other words, 'Solve this riddle.' Oh, it was common, 'Come riddle to me.'
R. Matteson 2012, 2014]
I. The Brown Girl- sung by Mrs. May Kennedy McCord, Springfield, Mo., oct. 21, 1941. Learned from her parents in Galena, Mo., about 1900. Randolph I
Lord Thomas he was a gay gentleman, [1]
The lord of many a belle,
Fair Ellender was a gay young lady,
Lord Thomas he loved her we-e-ell
Lord Thomas he loved her well.
Oh mother, oh father, come riddle to me,
I ask you both as one,
Oh must I marry fair Ellender
Or bring the brown girl home, home, home,
Or bring the brown girl home?
The brown girl she has houses and land,
Fair Ellender she has none,
Oh son, we advise you as a great blessing
To bring the brown girl home, home, home,
To bring the brown girl home.
He dressed himself in scarlet robes,
His waiters all dressed in green,
And every town that he rode through,
They took him to be some king, king, king,
They took him to be some king.
He rode till he come to fair Ellender's door,
He tingled at the ring,
And none so ready as she herself
To rise and bid him come in, in, in,
To rise and bid him come in.
What news, what news, Lord Thomas, she cried,
What news do you bring to me?
I've come to bid you to my wedding,
The brown girl my bride to be, be, be,
The brown girl my bride to be.
Sad news, sad news, Lord Thomas, she cried,
Sad news do you bring to me,
For I had hoped to be your bride,
And you bridegroom to me, me, me,
And you bridegroom to me.
Oh mother, oh father, come riddle to me,
I ask you both as one,
Oh must I go to Lord Thomas's wedding,
Or tarry with you at home. home, home,
Or tarry with you at home?
Oh many there be who are your friends,
And many there be your foes,
And we would advise you as a great blessing
To tarry with us at home, home, home,
To tarry with us at home.
Oh many there be who are my friends,
And many there be my foes.
But I will risk my fortune and life,
And to Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go, go, go,
And to Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go.
She dressed herself in satin white,
Her ladies all in green,
And every town that they rode through
They took her to be some queen, queen, queen,
They took her to be some queen.
She rode till she come to Lord Thomas's hall,
She tingled at the ring,
And none was so ready as Thomas himself
To rise and bid her come in, in, in,
To rise and bid her come in.
He took her by the lily-white hand,
He led her down the hall,
And seated her at the banquet head
Among the ladies all, all, all,
Among the ladies all.
Is this your bride, Lord Thomas, she cried,
She is i most wonderful brown,
When you could have married the fairest lady
That ever the sun shone on, on, on,
That ever the sun shone on.
Throw none of your slurs, fair Ellen, he cried,
Throw none of your slurs at me,
For I love the tip of your finger more
Than the brown girl's whole body, -dy, -dy,
Than the brown girl's whole body.
The brown girt had a little pen knife
With blade both keen and sharp,
Between the short ribs and the long
She pierced fair Ellender's heart, heart, heart,
She pierced fair Ellender's heart.
Oh what is the matter, fair Ellen, he cried,
What makes you look so pale?
You used to have as rosy cheeks
As any one in our dale, dale, dale,
As any one in our dale.
Oh are you blind, Lord Thomas, she cried,
Or maybe you cannot see.
But I my own heart's blood
Come trick-e-ling down to my knee, knee, knee,
Come trick-e-ling down to my knee.
He took the brown girl by the hand,
He led her down the hall.
And with his sword cut off her head
And kicked it against the wall, wall, wall,
And kicked it against the wall.
He pointed the handle to the sun,
The blade unto his breast,
Saying here's the death of two fond lovers,
God send their souls to rest, rest, rest,
God send their souls to rest.
Go bury me 'neath yon green tree,
Go dig my grave wide and deep,
And place fair Ellender in my arms,
And the brown girl at my feet, feet, feet,
And the brown girl at my feet.
1. Sanza 1 was collected by Merlin Mitchell, transcribed by Mary C. Parler from Mrs. May Kennedy McCord Springfield, Mo. Sept. 16, 1950.