Young Hunting- Gentry (NC) 1916 Sharp A
[Sharp's generic title. From English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians, I, 1917 and 1932. Notes from the 1932 edition follow. Jane Hicks Gentry was Sharp's best informant. She comes from the Hicks/Harmon family line that settled in Watuaga County, NC around 1770. She learned many of her ballads, songs and tales from Council Harmon, her grandfather and other family members.
R. Matteson 2012, 2014]
Notes from the 1932 Edition: No. 18. Young Hunting.
Texts without tunes: — Child's English and Scottish Popular Ballads, No. 68. Cox's Folk Songs of the South, p. 42 (see also further references). Journal of American Folk-Lore, XX. 252.
Texts with tunes: — Child, v. 416. Reed Smith's South Carolina Ballads, p. 107. Journal of American Folk-Lore, xviii. 295 (tune only); XXX. 289. British Ballads from Maine, p. 122. Davis's Traditional Ballads of Virginia, pp. 182 and 566. Sandburg's American Songbag, p. 64. Compare And you shall have the cheers of the cheer cold girl' of D. 4 with 'Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear' in Child's version K 4. Tune H, with text of version G, is published with pianoforte accompaniment in Folk Songs of English Origin, 1st Series.
A. Young Hunting- Jane Hicks Gentry (Hot Springs, NC) 1916 Sharp A
1. Come in, come in, my pretty little boy,
And stay this night with me.
For I have got the very best*,
And I will give it up to thee,
I will give it up to thee.
2 I can't come in, I won't come in
And stay this night with thee,
For I have a wife in old Scotchee
This night a-looking for me.
3 She did have a little penknife,
It was both keen and sharp.
She gave him a deathlike blow
And pierced him through the heart.
4 She picked him up all in her arms,
Being very active and strong,
And she throwed him into an old dry well
About sixty feet.
5 One day she was sitting in her father's parlour door,
Thinking of no harm.
She saw a bird and a pretty little bird
All among the leaves so green.
6 Come down, come down, my pretty little bird
And parley on my knee.
I'm afeard you'd rob me of my life
Like you did the poor Scotchee.
7 I wish I had my bow and arrow,
My arrow and my string;
I'd shoot you through your tender little heart,
For you never no more could sing.
8 I wish you had your bow and arrow,
Your arrow and your string;
I'd fly away to the heavens so high,
Where I could for evermore sing.
*"best bed" or "a very fine bed" (seems like this, as found in B and C, is better)