Bold Dickie and Bold Archie- Hall (MA) 1941 Warner
[From Warner, Traditional American Folk Songs (1980) pp.432-434. Also Elektra recording made in 1958 by Warner.
R. Matteson 2015]
"Bold Dickie and Bold Archie" sung by Priscilla Dyer Allen of Plainfield, MA, 1941. Collected and Arranged by Frank Warner.
Come, come, Bold Archie," he cried,
Come and speak a word with me,
For I have a brother in yonder prison,
Who is condemned this day and must die.
"Oh, no. Oh, no," the other he said,
"Oh, no, that never can be,
For I have ten men as good as myself,
We will go set the poor prisoner free."
So they mounted their horses, and away rode they,
Who but they, so merrily,
Until they came to the prison gate,
Where they all dismounted most sorrowfully.
"Bold Dickie, bold Dickie," bold Archie he cried,
"Come and speak a word with me,
For I have come with full forty men,
And I am determined to set thee free."
"Oh, no. Oh, no," bold Dickie he cried,
"Oh, no, that never can be,
For I've full forty-weight of good Spanish iron
Betwixt my ankle-bone and my knee."
But they broke bolts and they broke bars,
And they broke whate'er came in their way,
And they took the poor prisoner under his arms
And they marched him out courageously.
So they mounted their horses and away rode they,
Who but they, so merrily,
Until they came to the riverside,
Where they all dismounted most sorrowfully.
"Bold Archie, bold Archie," bold Dickie he cried,
"Come and speak a word with me.
My horse is lame and he cannot swim,
And oh, I fear this day I die."
"Oh, no. Oh, no," bold Archie he cried,
"Oh, no, that never can be.
My horse is strong and I know he swims,
He will take us both over most joyfully."
So they mounted their horses and away rode they,
Who but they, so merrily,
Until they came to the other side,
Where they all dismounted most sorrowfully.
"Bold Archie, bold Archie," the sheriff he cried.
"Come and speak a word with me,
If you'll bring back the iron that you carried off.
I am sure we will set the poor prisoner free."
"Oh, no. Oh, no," bold Archie he cried,
"Oh, no, that never can be,
For the iron will serve to shoe our horses,
And the blacksmith he rides in our company."
So they mounted their horses and away rode they,
Who but they, so merrily,
Until they came to the tavern gate,
Where they all dismounted most joyfully.
They hired a fiddle, they hired a room,
Who but they, so merrily,
And one of the best dancers there was in the room
Was this poor prisoner just set free.