Butcher Boy- Mrs. Robert A. Hill (MO) 1950 Parler E
[From Ozark Folksong Collection; Reel 63, Item 5. Collected by Merlin Mitchell. Transcribed by Mary C. Parler.
Listen: http://digitalcollections.uark.edu/cdm/singleitem/collection/OzarkFolkSong/id/317/rec/7
R. Matteson 2017]
The Butcher Boy - sung by Mrs. Robert A. Hill of Golden City, Missouri on July 20, 1950.
In London city, where I did dwell,
A butcher's boy I loved so well;
He courted me my life away,
And with me then he would not stay.
There is a strange house in this town
Where he goes up and sits right down;
He takes another girl on his knee,
He tells her things he don't tell me.
I have to grieve, I'll tell you why,
Because she has more gold than I,
But gold will melt and silver fly,
In time of need she's poorer than I.
I went upstairs to go to bed,
And nothing to my mother said,
O mother yet it seemed to say (doubtful line)
What is the trouble, my daughter dear?
O mother dear, you need not know
The grief and sorrow, pain and woe,
Give me a chair and set me down,
With pen and ink to write words down.
Go dig my grave both wide and deep,
Place marble stones at my head and feet,
Upon my breast a snow-white dove
To show to the world I died for love.
And when her father first came home,
Where is my daughter, where has she gone?
He went upstairs and the door he broke,
He found her hanging to a rope.
He tuck his knife and cut her down,
In her bosom these words he found:
A silly girl I am, you know,
To hang myself for a butcher's boy.
Must I go bound while he goes free?
Must I love a boy that don't love me?
Alas, alas, 'twill never be,
Till oranges grow on apple trees.