The Lexington Girl by Mellinger E. Henry
The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 42, No. 165 (Jul. - Sep., 1929), pp. 247-253
THE LEXINGTON GIRL
BY MELLINGER E. HENRY
Borrowed names and borrowed robes are, of course, proverbial, and often go hand in hand. The bobbing up of old songs with what might variously be called assumed names, aliases, sobriquets, according as you wish, is an interesting phase of these old melodies. Whence arise all the titles? Are different communities prone to apply a local name as a stamp of ownership? Or are they influenced by some incident in their own neighborhoods? Is the whole text sometimes appropriated to tell to the rhythm of music some absorbing event in the life of the community?
Certainly the tracing of the nomenclature of old songs offers something of the same interest as the variations of the songs themselves. The many different versions of folk-songs that have not depended on the printed page for their preservation or transmission are extremely interesting texts for the purpose of making studies in comparisons. Each version of the same song usually bears some mark of the dialect, social habits and customs, or even the topography of the community in which it has been sung.
"The Lexington Girl," the text given below, was obtained by the writer from Mary Riddle, of Black Mountain, Buncombe County, North Carolina, who knows and sings a number of the traditional ballads of England and Scotland. The text is as follows:
1. My tender parents brought me up, provided for me well.
It was in the city of Lexington, they placed me in a mill.
It's there I met a pretty fair maid. On her I cast my eye;
I promised her I'd marry her, and she believed a lie.
2. I went into her sister's house at nine o'clock at night;
But little did the creature think at her I had a spite.
I asked her to walk a little way, a little way away,
And we would have a little talk and name a wedding day.
3. We walked a long, a lonesome, road until we walked through a desert plain.
I drew a stake out of the fence and hit her in the face.
She fell upon her bended knees; for mercy loud she cried
And said, "Oh, please don't murder me for I'm unprepared to die."
4. Little attention did I pay unto her dying prayer, but only hit her more
Until I saw the innocent blood which I could (not) restore.
I ran my fingers through her coal black hair; to cover up my sin
I took her to the river side and there I plunged her in.
5. On my returning home I met my servant, John.
He asked me why I was so pale and yet so onward worn.
I snatched the candle out of his hand and went to take my rest.
For I could feel the flames of hell a-burning in my breast.
6. Come all you people old and young
And listen to my story:
It's always prove to your lover true
And never let the devil get the upper hand of you.
Perhaps someone can interpret the puzzling "onward worn." The "not" in the parenthesis was inserted by the writer. At first the mistake was made of identifying this song with "The Jealous Lover" (38 of Cox's Folk-Songs of the South and 43 of Miss Louise Pound's American Ballads and Songs) to which it offers some resemblance. Compare the following line from "The Lexington Girl" as given above:
"She fell upon her bended knees; for mercy loud she cried," with this line from "The Jealous Lover," -
"Down on her knees before him she pleaded for her life."
The latter is based on the story of the murder of Pearl Bryan, of Greencastle, Indiana. Professor G. L. Kittredge at once cleared the matter by pointing out that the song is a form of the old broadside ballad, "The Wittam Miller," and referred to his note in Cox's Folk-Songs ot the South, No. 90, p. 311, which is as follows:
"In West Virginia this ballad is known as 'The Tragedy' and as 'Johnny McDowell.' It has been found in oral circulation in Virginia and Tennessee (Focus, Iv, 370), Missouri (Belden, JAFL 25 :ii), and Kentucky (Shearin and Combs, pp. 13,28). Belden has noted that it is a reduction of "The Wittam Miller"'; of 'The Berkshire Tragedy, or, Wittam Miller' the Harvard College Library has English broadsides of the eighteenth and early nineteenth century (Stone-cutter street, Fleet Market; J. Evans; Howard & Evans; Turner, Coventry; Pitts; of Roxburghe Ballads, Ed. Ebsworth, VIII, II, 629). According to an Edingburgh Chapbook of 1744 (catalogued by Halliwell, Notices of Fugitive Tracts, Percy Society, XXIX, go), the miller's name was John Mauge and he was hanged at Reading (Berkshire) in that year. An American broadside of the early part of the nineteenth century (Boston, Corner of Cross and Fulton Streets) affords a condensed version:
"The Wittam Miller" under the title of "The Lexington Miller." A condensed text, 'The Cruel Miller', substantially like the West Virginia version is found in modern English Broadsides (Catnach; Ryle; Such, No. 622): see also Journal of the Folk-Song Society, VII, 28, and of Baring-Gould and Sheppard, Songs of the West, IV, XXX."
While this article was being prepared Prof. Kittredge very kindly sent a copy of the American broadside in the Harvard Library referred to in the note just quoted. It is instructive to print it for the purpose of comparison:
The Lexington Miller
Come all you men and maidens dear, to you I will relate.
Pray lend an ear and you shall hear concerning my sad fate,
My parents brought me up with care, provided for me well,
And in the town of Lexington employ'd me in a mill.
'Twas there I 'spied a comely lass, she cast a winning eye,
I promis'd I would marry her if she would but comply:
I courted her about six months, which caused us pain and woe;
'Twas folly brought us into a snare, and it prov'd our overthrow.
Her mother came to me one day as you shall understand,
Begging that I would appoint a day, and marry her at hand;
It was about one month from Christmas, O, cursed be that day,
The devil put in to my heart to take her life away.
I was perplex'd on every side, no comfort could I find
Then for to take her life away, my wicked heart inclin'd;
I went unto her sister's house at eight o'clock at night,
And she, poor soul, little thought or knew I ow'd her any spite.
I said, come go along with me, out door a little way,
That you and I may both agree upon our wedding day,
Then hand in hand I led her on, down to some silent place;
I took a stake out of the fence, and struck her on the face.
Now she upon her knees did fall, and most heartily did cry,
Saying, kind sir, don't murder me for I am not fit to die;
I would not harken unto her cries, but laid it on the more,
Till I had taken her life away, which I could not restore.
All in the blood of innocence, my trembling hand have dy'd,
All in the blood of her who should have been my lawful bride;
She gave a sigh and bitter groan, and cast a wishful look,
I took her by the hair of the head and flung her in the brook.
Now straight unto the Mill I went, like one that's in a maze,
And first I met was my servant boy, who deeply on me gaz'd;
How came that blood upon your hands, likewise on your clothes?
I instantly made reply, 'twas bleeding of the nose.
I called for a candle, the same was brought to me.
And when the candle I had light, an awful sight I see;
Now straightway unto bed I went, thinking relief to find,
It seemed as if the plagues of hell, were lodg'd within my mind.
Next day her body was search'd for, but it could not be found,
Then I was in my chamber seized, and in my chains were bound.
In two or three days after, this fair maid she was found,
Came floating by her mother's house, that was near Wentontown.
Her sister swore against me, she said she had no doubt,
'Twas I that took her life away, as 'twas I that led her out.
It's now my end comes hastening on, and death approaches nigh,
And by my own confession I am condemn'd to die.
Now fare you well to Lexington, where my first breath I drew,
I warn all men and maidens, to all their vows prove true.
Professor Cox in "Folk Songs of the South" gives two versions, the first, entitled "The Tragedy," was communicated by Miss Marie Rennar, Morgantown, Monongalia County (West Virginia) and was obtained from Mrs. Dayton Wiles, who learned it from her mother, who lived many years in the mountains near Rowlesburg, Preston County.
I. The Wexford Girl (The Cruel Miller)
1. There was a rich old Farmer in Wexford devine,
Who had two charming daughters; for my love they did pine.
I went to see those charming girls just eight o'clock at night;
Little did poor sister dear, when I left her in great spite.
2. I asked the other to take a walk and view the meadow o'er,
So we might have a chance to talk, and appoint our wedding hour.
We strolled along both hand in hand, till we came to the level ground;
I drew a stake out of the hedge and knocked my fair one down.
3. She fell upon her bended knees, and for mercy she did cry.
"O Johnny, dear, don't murder me here, for I'm not prepared to die."
I took her by the curly locks, and dragged her o'er the ground,
And threw her into the waters that ran through Wexford town.
4. Straight home, straight, poor Johnny went at twelve o'clock that night,
Which caused his aged mother to wake up in great fright:
"O Johnny dear, what have you done? there are bloodstains on your hands."
The answer that I gave her was. "Bleeding at the nose."
5. He asked her for a candle to light him up to bed,
While the groans and moans of the Wexford girl went roaming through his head.
Six or seven days afterward the Wexford girl was found,
A-floating on the waters that run through Wexford town.
6. Marshall came and arrested me and dragged me off to jail;
There was no one to pity me, no one to go my bail.
Now come, all you tender hearted men, and warning take in time;
Never murder a poor girl, or your fate will be like mine."
The second is entitled "Johnny McDowell" and was contributed by Miss Snoaf McCourt, Orndoff, Webster County (West Virginia). May 1916. It follows:
1. 'T was in town of Woxford, where I did live and dwell,
'T was in the town of Woxford I owned a flowery dell.
'T was there I courted a pretty fair miss with a dark and rolling eye;
I asked if she'd marry me; these words she did comply.
2. 'T was on one Saturday evening, I came to her sister's house.
I asked her if she'd walk with me, and the wedding day appoint.
We walked along together, till we came to the level ground;
I drew a stake from the fence and knocked this fair miss down.
3. All on her bended knees, how for mercy she did cry!
"Johnny McDowell, don't murder me, for I'm not prepared to die."
I hated for to kill her, but I beat her all the more;
I beat her till her body lay a-bleeding in the gore.
4. I took her by her yellow locks and dragged her o'er the sand,
And threw her in the water that flowed through Woxford town.
'T was twelve o'clock that very same night, when I came to my mother's house;
I asked for a candle to light me up to bed, also for a handkerchief to bind my aching head.
5. "Son, O son, what have you done? How came this blood upon your clothes ?"
The answer that I made to her was, "The bleeding of my nose."
I rolled and kicked and tumbled, but no rest could I find;
The flames of hell so brightly then before my eyes did shine.
6. Her sister swore my life, for reasons I've no doubt;
She swore I was the very identical man that led her sister out.
Miss Louise Pound in "American Ballads and Songs" (No. 45, also Cox No. 150) gives two versions of a song with the titles, "The Old Shawnee" and "On the Banks of the Old Pedee," both of which bear some resemblance to "The Lexington Girl." The first begins:
"I ask my love to take a walk,
To take a walk a little way,
And as we walk we'll sweetly talk
Of when shall be our wedding day."
However the difference is that she refuses his love. Then:
"He drew a knife across her breast,
And in anger she did cry,
'O Willie dear, don't murder me,
For I am not fit to die!"
In "Fair Fanny Moore," another jealous-lover murder story, also given by Miss Pound (No. 97), there are two lovers, Henry and Randall. Henry marries Fanny. Then Randall "burried his knife in her snowy white breast." Miss Pound tells us that this text was obtained from Mrs. John Leslie, Stanford, Montana, and that it has wide currency. Another gruesome song of murder by a lover is "Rose Connilley" (Cox No. 9I) in which "the girl is murdered on the bank of a river, by her lover, who, intoxicated with Burgandy wine, is persuaded to slay her, by his father's promise of money." On the other hand, in "Young Hunting" (Child, No. 68) the woman becomes the jealous slayer because of "a girl in the old Scotch Yard." Lord Thomas ("Lord Thomas and Fair Annet," Child No. 73) puts to death his bride the Brown Girl, in revenge for her slaying his real love, the Fair Eleanor. Lord Randall (Child, No. 12) is poisoned by his true-love.
In "Young Johnstome" (Child, No. 88) fair Annet is stabbed for as little reason as the Lexington Girl. In "Jellon
Grame" (Child, No. go) the "unborn son" lives to avenge his mother's murder. "Little Frankie" is another example of an American song in which jealousy of another woman leads Frankie "To get her a thirty-eight"
to shoot her "gamble-man." The writer secured a fine text of this song in "Bloody Breathitt" County, Kentucky, where it was sung by Granville Gadsey. Professor Cox gives two forms of it, one entitled "Maggie Was a Lady," and the other, "Maggie Was a Good Little Girl." Miss Dorothy Scarborough in "On the Trail of Negro Folk Songs" publishes several versions and points out that it "is widely current among Negroes" and that "the title varies, being called in different versions Franky, Pauly, Lilly, Georgy, Frankie and Johnie, Franky and Albert, Franky Baker, and so forth." Many other ballads in which murder by one lover or the other is the theme might be mentioned, but enough have been given to show that such a theme was often used in the old songs.