Cold Falling Drops Of Dew- Decker (NL) 1959 Peacock B
[From: Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 2, pp.412-413, by the National Museum of Canada (1965). Online noted follow.
R. Matteson 2012, 2015]
Peacock collected two variants of The Unquiet Grave [Child ballad #78] The English And Scottish Popular Ballads (1882-1898) edited by Francis James Child (Dover, 1965). Also variants of a British broadside ballad, The Weeping Lover, published by W. Wright (Birmingham) sometime between 1820 and 1831, and archived at the Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads, shelfmark: 2806 c.17(460).
Kenneth Peacock noted that the tunes of both variants are similar, though Mr. Decker's has a duple pulse. His variant is more unusual in having the girl mourn by her lover's grave. The texts of the A variant are very similar and were collated to give the best wording. Peacock also noted that there is a widespread superstition right across Asia and Europe that prolonged and excessive grieving disturbs the peace of the dead. The lovely 'lover's-task' verses (6 and 7) of variant A are not found in Professor Child's variants, though one of the variants in the [Cecil] Sharp [1859-1924] manuscripts contains a similar verse.
Cold Falling Drops Of Dew (Variant B)- Collected in 1959 from George Decker of Rocky Harbour, NL, by Kenneth Peacock.
Cold falling drops of dew, sweetheart,
Cold falling drops of rain,
I never in the world had but one sweetheart,
In the greenwood he was slain.
I will do as much for my true love
As any fair girl so gay,
I will sit and mourn all on his grave
For a twelve-month and a day.
When the twelve-month and a day were past
This young man rose to speak:
"What keeps you here lying on my grave
And will not let me sleep?"
"What do you ask, what do you crave,
What do you ask of me?"
"One kiss, one kiss from your lily-white lips,
That's all I ask of thee."
"My lily-white lips are as cold as clay,
And my breath is vile and strong,
If you take one kiss from my lily-white lips
Your time it won't be long.
"It was down in yonder valley, sweetheart,
Where you and I used to walk,
And the fairest flower you and I used to pick
Is withered unto the stalk.
"All withered unto the stalk, sweetheart,
And the roots have now decayed,
And I must leave you in this wide world
And go into my grave."