Early American Ballads (Part I and II)
By William Wells Newell
The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 12, No. 47 (Oct. - Dec., 1899), pp. 241-254
THE JOURNAL OF AMERICAN FOLK-LORE.
VOL. XII.-OCTOBER-DECEMBER, I899.-No. XLVII.
EARLY AMERICAN BALLADS (Part I)
Newell
OWING to the recency of collection, the history of old English ballads is conjectural. At the time when ballads were first issued in the form of broadsides, printed in black letter, literary taste had already outgrown this species of composition. While many fine old ballads were thus circulated, the greater number of those supplied by the press were of new invention, and characterized by a puerility of rhythm and expression, in sad contrast with the music and tragic force of the ancient compositions. In the remoter parts of Great Britain histories continued to be cast into ballad form, generally with the result of offering a very prosaic and degenerate form of verse.
There are no direct means of determining the time at which the
taste of refined persons turned to a more sophisticated kind of poetry,
and at which, consequently, the popular ballad, left to the mercy of
the less educated and thoughtful part of the community, became a
survival instead of a living art. In accordance with data offered by
the ballads of Denmark, where collection was earlier and fuller, one
might guess that this change took place about the end of the fourteenth
century, and that most, if not all, of the extant English narrative
songs which possess much literary merit belong to an earlier
date. At a later time, the persistency of tradition still maintained
among the people the ancient treasure.
During the sixteenth and succeeding centuries, however, the production
of popular ballads by no means ceased; such songs continued
to be made in numbers. But these were inferior in excellence, even
when corresponding in theme; the decline is readily accounted for
by the consideration that the authors were now men of the people
in contrast to men of letters, whereas in the earlier period the best
minds had so occupied themselves. In place of the kings and great
lords, whose fortunes had made the theme of the early songs, the
hero might be a captain or a major, the heroine a farmer's daughter;
the scope and dignity of the story suffered reduction. Of these
later narrations, many were brought over to the New World, and
yournal of American Folk-Lore.
still others composed on American soil. With a few exceptions
where the subject was historical, these more modern ballads have
remained uncollected; perhaps such neglect involves no great literary
loss, but as illustrating popular taste and folk-life the ballads
have their curiosity. In this article will be brought together a few
of these contributed from various sources; very likely the publication
will bring to light a whole crop, for the number of such songs
current in the early part of the century must have been considerable.
At the present day, similar ballads are sung chiefly in isolated mountain
districts, in North Carolina or East Tennessee; but these survivals
correspond to like histories formerly well known in the New
England and Middle States.
With regard to local ballads Dr. W. M. Beauchamp writes as follows
:
"The colonists of New England were fond of long and doleful
ditties on local themes; and part of one of these has haunted my
mind for years, perhaps because of a mock discussion on its true
reading. It commenced, -
On Springfield mountains there did dwell
A comely youth, known full well,
Leftenant Curtis' only son,
A comely youth just twenty-one.
One day this lovely youth did go
Down in the meadows for to mow;
He had not mowed half round the field
'Fore a pizen sarpint bite his heeld.
"When in Springfield lately, I sought for information on the old
song, but found only one young man who knew about it. It was his
father's favorite, but as the son was sung to sleep by it of course he
did not know the whole. So I am ignorant on which of the Springfield
mountains the lovely youth dwelt, or in which of the meadows
he went for to mow.
"On my return home a friend had rescued another ballad for me,
written on time-discolored paper, with an antique British watermark,
being evidently the ballad in the handwriting of its author. It is entitled, -
A SHORT ACOUNT OF THE AWFULL & SURPRISING DETH OF THE CHILD OF DANIEL & SARAH BECKWITH, WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE JUNE YE 20TH DAY, AD, 1773.
THE SARTINTY OF DETH
I. my frends allow my febel toungue,
if I may speak my mind,
this plainly shoes to old and young
the frailty of mankind
2. the child that in the wods retiar
is lost while parants moarn,
and othars are consumd by fiar
or into peses toarn.
3. permit my febel pen to rite
what has ben laitly dun,
a man who plast his cheaf delight
in his beloved son.
4. in manchester whare he ingoys
provision for this life,
he had two dafters and three boys
by his beloved wife.
5. his second son, robbens by name,
was ten years old and moar,
on him this sad distruction came,
who was in peses toar.
6. the fathar said, my children thair
if you will clear sum land,
you shall posess all it doth bair
to be at your command.
7. the parants then did both agree,
to tinmouth took their way,
a moarning sister for to see,
but long they did not stay.
8. the prity boys, wee understand,
did lovingly agree
all for to clear the peas of land
set fiar to a tree.
9. the chunk was thirty feat in length
and was exceding dry,
so rotten it had not much strength
did burn most vemantly.
ro. the boys against a log did lean
or on it setting all,
and nothing was for to be seen
untill the tree did fall.
Ii. but oh, alass, the dismall blow
struck robbens to the ground,
his head was masht two peses soo,
a deep and deadly wound.
12. his head and arms all broke to bits,
he in the fiar did lye,
the children scard out of their wits
aloud began two cry.
13. the elder son that yet remains,
resevd a grevous wound,
but oh, alass, poor robbens brains
did fall out on the ground.
14. thus he within the flame did lye,
the othars full of greaf,
a neighbor that did hear them cry
did run to their releaf.
15. this maid his tendar hart to ake
to see him in that case;
he quickly hold on him did take
and drue him from that place.
I6. now near the middel of the day
the neighbors thay did meat,
the corps thay quickly did convay
in to his winding sheat.
I7. a frend to tinmouth took his coast
the hevey news to beair.
the tidings come to them all most
as soon as thay got their.
i8. but when the parants come two know
theair son was dead indeed,
alass, their eys with tears did flow
and homwards went with spead.
19. the peopel came from every part
to see the awfull sight,
it grevd the parants tender hart,
alass, and well it might.
20. to see their one beloved son
in such a case indeed,
me thinks would make a hart of stone
or hart of steall to blead.
21. laid in the grave two turn to dust,
their greaf what tongue can tell,
but yet, alass, the parants must
bid him a long fair well
22. see, the vain race of mortal man
are but an empty shoe,
like bubbels on the water stan
and soon two nothing goo.
23. when wee are well, alass, our breth
is easy took away,
ten thousand ways a mortal deth
can turn our flesh to clay.
24. the old and young, both high and low,
must yeald their mortal breth,
when is the time wee due not know,
but all must suffer deth.
25. to conker deth if wee contrive,
it is in vain to try,
for suarly as wee are alive,
soo suarly wee must die.
FINIS.
NOVEMBER YE 20, I773.
"This is verbatim, but I have slightly punctuated the verses. In the twentieth verse, one is to be pronounced own, while some words are almost puns in their effect."
The rhymes on the death of the child are of a literary character, having been produced with the pen, and designed for reading. But in the early part of the century there were in circulation in New England many ballads more nearly representing a true traditional literature, circulating by word of mouth, and current in different versions. To this class belongs the following narrative, apparently of English origin :--
THE LANCASTER MAID
Sung in Massachusetts about I800. Contributed by E. S. Dixwell, Cambridge, Mass.
Oh Betsey ! Betsey ! beauty fair !
Had lately come from Lancastair,
A servant maid let herself to be,
She was fitting for a more high degree.
The old lady had an only son,
And Betsey had his favor won;
Saying, "Betsey, I love thee as my life,
And I do intend to make thee my wife."
In the very next chamber the old lady lay,
And heard what her son to Betsey did say,
Then she resolved in her mind,
To put a stop to her son's incline.
The very next morning the old lady arose,
Calling for Betsey, " Put on your clothes,
For out of town with me you must go,
To wait upon me one day or two."
The very next morning Betsey arose.
And dressed herself in her milkwhite clothes,
Saying, " Madam ! I'm ready to go with thee,
To wait upon you one day or three."
To a very rich merchant Betsey was bound,
To sail the ocean round and round:
" Oh welcome home, dear mother," he said,
" But where is Betsey, your servant maid ?"
"Oh son! Oh son ! I plainly see,
There is great love between Betsey and thee,
No more, no more, for 't is all in vain,
For Betsey's a-sailing o'er the main."
Oh then these words struck her son sad!
'T was not all the world could make him glad,
In slumbering dreams he was heard to cry,
"Oh beautiful Betsey ! For thee I die."
The following variant of the last stanzas attests the popularity of the song, taken from the recitation of Mrs. Charles D. Davis, of West Newton, Mass., who learned it from her mother, Mrs. Ellis Allen, born in Scituate, Mass., in the year 1793:
For many doctors they did send,
And much upon him they did spend,
But all physicians were in vain,
For yet in love he did remain.
For many doctors they did send:
To try their skill and to try their means,
'T was not all the world could give relief,
He died out of sorrow, heartbroke with grief.
When the old lady saw her son was dead,
She pulled the hair out of her head,
Saying, " If my son could but breathe again,
I'd send for Betsey all o'er the main."
The piece which follows has already been printed (vol. viii. p. 230):
THE LADY IN THE WEST
Contributed by Mrs. E. Allen, West Newton, Mass. Sung about 1800.
There was a lady lived in the west,
Whose age was scarcely twenty,
And she had suitors of the best,
Both lords and squires plenty.
And she had suitors of the best,
Who daily waited upon her,
But her father's clerk she would adore,
Above those men of honor.
Her father unto her did say,
"You fond and foolish creature,
To marry with your servant slave,
So mean of form and feature.
So mean a portion shall you have,
If this is your proceeding,
To marry with your servant slave,
So mean of birth and breeding."
" It must be so, it shall be so,
Although I have offended,
For when I break a solemn vow,
Then may my life be ended."
There being a table in the room,
A pistol on it lying,
He instantly, all in a rage,
The very same let flying,
All at his youthful daughter's breast,
Who fell down dead before him,
The very last word she did express,
"I must and will adore him."
It has been stated that similar histori es are still recited in the more isolated districts of the South. The Eastern Shore of Maryland offers a curious example; among the "poor whites," who can neither read nor write, is sung the following ballad, which illustrates the degradation of the ballad from the time when noble damsels might don the garb of chivalry and accompany their lovers to war.
POLLY'S LOVE
Contributed by Mrs. E. M. Backus, Saluda, N. C.
Down in yon country a rich farmer did live (dwell),
He had but one daughter whom he loved well,
And as soon as he found that she was in love,
He parted pretty Polly's own ardent true love.
As Polly lay musing all on her downy bed,
A comical project came into her head;
"Neither father nor mother shall make me false prove,
I will dress like a soldier and follow my love."
Coat, waistcoat, and breeches pretty Polly put on,
In every degree she was dressed like a man,
To her father's stables to view the horses around,
To see if there was one could travel the ground.
A case of fine pistols and a sword by her side,
With her father's best gelding like a troop she did ride,
She had rode far before she came to a town,
And called for the captain of Harry Wown (high renown ?).
The first that came forth was an English lord,
And the next pretty Polly's own true love.
"Here is a letter from Polly your friend."
He instantly taking the letter in hand....
And under the seal there's a guinea to be found,
For you and your soldiers drink Polly's health round."
Now Polly being drowsy she hung down her head,
And calls for a candle to light her to bed.
"There 's a light at your service, a bed at your ease,
And you can sleep with me, kind sir, if you please."
"To sleep with a soldier's a dangerous thing,
For some will want soldiers to fight for the king."
"I am a sailor on sea, and a soldier on shore,
But the name of pretty Polly I always adore."
Early next morning pretty Polly arose,
She dressed herself up in a suit of woman's clothes,
And down stairs she came, saying, " Constant I will prove,
I am pretty Polly, your own true love."
Now Polly is married, she lives at her ease,
She goes when she will, and comes when she please,
She left her dear parents behind to mourn,
"I 'd give hundreds and thousands for Polly's return."
Another ballad also has Pretty Polly for a heroine. Perhaps the two are offshoots of a single old history; in the song already cited the hero could be a "sailor on the sea." The version belongs to the Blue Ridge Mountains, Henderson County, North Carolina. Contributed by Mrs. E. M. Backus.
Poor Jack he's gone a-sailing,
With trouble on his mind,
He has left his native country,
And his darling girl behind.
And sing oh! and sing oh!
So fare you well my darling.
There was a rich old farmer,
In London he did dwell,
And he had an only daughter,
The truth too I will tell.
She went into a tailor's shop,
And dressed in man's array,
She enlisted with the captain,
To carry her away.
" Your waist it is too slender,
Your fingers they are too small,
Your cheeks too red and rosy,
To face the cannon ball."
"My waist it is none too slender,
My fingers they are none too small,
It will never change my countenance,
To face the cannon ball."
And when the battle was ended,
Pretty Polly marched around,
Among the dead and wounded,
Her darling boy she found.
And she took him in her arms,
And she carried him to the town,
And she called for some physician,
To heal his bleeding wounds.
This couple now are married,
How well they do agree,
This couple they are married,
And why not you and me ?
And sing oh! and sing oh!
So fare you well my darling.
The next example, also from the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina (Polk County), belongs to the class of confessions of criminals, common in broadsides. Contributed by Mrs. E. M. Backus:
My name it is Denis, a man of high renown,
And my match in the country is hard to be found,
Is hard to be found,
And my match in the country is hard to be found.
I lived in Tennessee and there I bore the sway,
And for stealing of horses was forced to run away.
The footmen, the horsemen, they followed after me,
And straightway they carried me to the penitentiary.
And when I got over there, they welcomed me in,
They shaved off my head in the place of my chin.
They pulled off my clothes and dressed me in uniform,
Such a suit I never wore since the day I was borned.
Come all ye young horse-thieves, and warning take from me.
Never place your affections on the penitentiary.
Now I 'm getting old and my locks are getting gray,
I'm still hammering away in the penitentiary,
In the penitentiary,
I 'm still hammering away in the penitentiary.
The next piece has a character religious as well as sentimental.
CREATION
Contributed by Mrs. E. Allen. Massachusettsa, bout 1800.
When Adam was first created,
The lord of the universe round,
His happiness was not completed,
Till he a helpmeet had found.
He'd all things for food that was wanted,
To give him content in his life;
He 'd horses and foxes for hunting,
Which many need more than a wife.
He'd a garden all planted by nature,
To give him content in his life,
But an all wise Creator,
He saw that he needed a wife.
So Adam was placed in a slumber,
And lost a part of his side,
When he awoke in a wonder,
And beheld a most beautiful bride.
With transports he gazed upon her,
His happiness now was complete,
He thanked the most bountiful owner,
Had helped him to a mate.
She was not taken out of his head, sir,
To rule and triumph over man,
Neither was she taken out of his feet, sir,
For man to trample upon.
But she was taken out of his side, sir,
Man's equal companion to be.
When both are united in one, sir,
How happily they do agree !
A man who lives single's a beggar
Though all the world he possess,
If a beggar has got a good partner,
Then all things in life will be blest.
Let not woman be despisbd by man, sir,
For she is part of himself;
And woman by Adam was prized, sir,
Far more than a globe full of wealth.
The humorous ballad may be represented by the following piece, to judge by the metre not very old, but traditionally current during the early years of the century :-
BEAUTIFUL KATIE AND THE GRAY MARE
Contributed by E. S. Dixwell, Cambridge, Mass. Sung about I820.
Young Johnny, the miller, he courted of late,
A farmer's fair daughter, called Beautiful Kate,
Whose wealth and fine fortune was full fifty pound,
Silks, ribbons, and laces, and furbelowed gowns,
Silks ribbons and laces and diamonds and pins,
With sumptuous apparel and fifty fine things.
The day was appointed, the money was told;
It was a fine present in silver and gold.
Now Johnny unto her father then said;
"Sir, I will not marry this beautiful maid,
Although she is virtuous, charming, and fair,
Without the addition of Tid, the gray mare."
Her father then answered young Johnny with speed;
"I thought you had courted my daughter indeed,
And not the gray mare; but since it is thus,
My money once more I '11 put into my purse,
And as for the bargain, I vow and declare
I '11 keep both my daughter and Tid the gray mare."
The money then vanished out of his sight,
And so did fair Katie, his joy and delight,
And he like a woodchuck was turned out of doors (door),
Forbidden by them to come there any more.
Now Johnny began his locks for to tear,
And he wished that he d never stood out for the mare.
About a year after, or little above,
He chanced to meet with Miss Katie, his love.
Said he, " My dear Katie, do not you know me ?"
" If I mistake not, I have seen you," said she,
"Or one of your likeness, with long yellow hair,
That once came a-courting to father's gray mare."
"'Twas not to the mare a-courting I came,
But only to you, my love, Katie by name,
Not thinking your father would make a dispute,
But giving with Katie the gray mare to boot;
But rather than lose such a dutiful son, -
Well, it's over, - and I 'm sorry for what I have done."
"Your sorrow," says Katie, "I value it not,
There are young men enough in this world to be got,
And surely that gal must be at her last prayer,
Who would marry a man that once courted a mare.
And as for the prize, I think it not great,
So fare you well, Johnny; go mourn for your fate."
The physician furnishes almost as congenial a theme for satire as does the miller.
OLD DOCTOR GREY.
Sung in New Berne, N. C., about I800. Contributed b y Mrs. E. M. Backus.
"Mr. A, friend B is sick,
Call the doctor and be quick."
The doctor comes with right good will,
And never forgets his calomel.
He takes his patient by the hand,
Compliments him as a man,
Sets him down his pulse to feel,
And then deals out his calomel.
His high silk stock around his neck,
With old Scotch snuff is always specked,
His nankeen vest and ruffled frill,
Smells of jalap, aloes, and calomel.
He rides about in an old green chaise,
And doses patients night and day,
While many an unreceipted bill
Shows right much loss in calomel.
His good wife seldom leaves the house,
But labors for her faithful spouse,
She cooks his food and makes his pills,
With seven grains of calomel.
At last the good old doctor died,
And was mourned by people far and wide,
Yet strange to tell, when he was ill,
He would not take his calomel.
It has been observed that, of the historical ballads formerly current in New England, some have been printed. Among these is especially to be mentioned the song of Lovewell's Fight, which is said to have been in its day "the most beloved song in New England." Of this ballad two versions were published in " Collections, Historical and Miscellaneous," by J. Farmer and J. B. Moore, Concord, 1824, vol. ii. pp. 64 and 94. The first and oldest of these recounts with considerable spirit the events of the combat in 1725 :-
Of worthy Captain Lovewell I purpose now to sing,
How valiantly he served his country and his king;
He and his valiant soldiers did range the woods full wide,
And hardships they endured to quell the Indians' pride.
'T was nigh unto Pigwacket, on the eighth day of May,
They spied a rebel Indian soon after break of day;
He on a bank was walking, upon a neck of land,
Which leads into a pond, as we're to understand.
"Our valiant English," as the song calls Lovewell's men, see an
Indian, whom they approach with caution, fearing ambush; however,
the Indian shoots Lovewell and another, but is himself shot down in
his flight.
Then, having scalped the Indian, they went back to the spot,
Where they had laid their packs down, but there they found them not;
For the Indians having spied them, when they them down did lay,
Did seize them for their plunder, and carry them away.
The " Indian rebels" appear from their lurking-place, and a battle ensues, which lasts all day, in which eighteen out of thirty-four English are killed, while the Pequot Paugus is slain and his band defeated. The chaplain particularly distinguishes himself in the action: -
Our worthy Captain Lovewell among them there did die;
They killed Lieutenant Robbins, and wounded good young Frye,
Who was our English chaplain: he many Indians slew,
And some of them he scalped when bullets round him flew.
A version of the second ballad relating to the same action was communicated to the editor of this Journal by James Russell Lowell; but it differs from that printed by Farmer only in the order of the verses, and indeed seems to be a rearrangement of the latter. The ballad is very literary in character, and according to the opinion of Dr. Samuel A. Green, Librarian of the Massachusetts Historical Society, is probably a composition of the early part of the nineteenth century.
Here may also be mentioned a manuscript ballad relating to events of I755, printed in the " Proceedings of the Massachusetts Historical Society," April and May, I894. The writer, who composed in the same year, regarded the occurrences of the twelvemonth as a sign that the Judgment Day was at hand.
And Now, O Land, New England Land,
Amased be & trembling Stand,
Because the Judge Stands at the Door;
Forsake your sins, repent therefore.
After the preceding pages had been written, a friend pointed out that the ballad " On Springfield Mountain," mentioned by Dr. Beauchamp, in a form made intentionally more absurd, was included by John Phcenix (pseudomyn of George H. Derby) in "Squibob Papers," New York, I865, pp. 45-52. The introductory lines are nearly the same.
On Springfield Mounting there did dwell
A likely youth, I knowed him well;
Leftenant Carter's only son,
A comely youth, nigh twenty-one.
The ballad itself, I am told, is still remembered, and survives as a comic song. No doubt, therefore, it will hereafter be possible to present a complete version.
William Wells Newell
------------------------------------
Early American Ballads. Part II
William Wells Newell
The Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 13, No. 49 (Apr. - Jun., 1900), pp. 105-122
EARLY AMERICAN BALLADS II
MENTION has been made of the change in taste which took place during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, with the result that
English popular ballads of the ancient type ceased to be composed,
while there was a continuous production of ballads of later character,
possessing less poetic value. Examples were given of songs belonging
to this later class, of which some have been imported into America,
while others owe their composition to the new world. Among
the latter was a ballad entitled " Springfield Mountain," of which two
verses were given, with a request for additional information. In
reply to this desire a number of communications have been received,
which help to illuminate the history of the ballad in question.
Before giving these versions, it will be well to recur to the curious
"Account of the deth of the child of Daniel and Sarah Beckwith"
(vol. xii. p. 242), written in I773, and preserved only in manuscript,
which has been printed in the previous paper. In this communication,
no note is made of the locality to which the youth belonged,
nor does it appear under what circumstances the elegy was composed.
But the verses now to be cited are so nearly parallel as to
constitute a probability that those relating to Beckwith were also
associated with mortuary custom, and perhaps recited at the funeral
of the young man.
ISAACO RCUTT.
This ballad is communicated by Miss Julia D. Whiting, of Deerfield,
Mass., who relates the circumstances of composition as follows:
"About one hundred years ago, my grandmother, then a
young woman of thirty, was living in Amherst, Mass. A young
man by the name of Isaac Orcutt went to Westfield to work, and
was there killed in an accident, and brought home to be buried. An
old lady, whose name is unknown to me, composed these verses, and
they were sung at his burial by six young women (of whom my
grandmother was one), dressed in white, who stood around his grave.
I dare say the old lady composed the tune as well as the words; at
any rate, words and tune go well together."
One I - saac Or- cutt was his name,Who late - ly in - to Westfield came
1c, J ;Cli ; ! J. XJ. ^U j jUl
To cut some tim - ber for a sled; The snow was deep, he had to wade.
One Isaac Orcutt was his name,
Who lately into Westfield came,
To cut some timber for a sled,
The snow was deep, he had to wade
Some forty rods to an ash tree.
The top was dry as you may see
He cut the tree off from the stump
The top was dry threw back a chunk
Which flew and struck him in the head
And stunned him though he was not dead
There the poor senseless creature lay
All the remainder of that day
No search was made by any one
Until the setting of the sun
When Mr. Manly and his son
Alarmed set out upon the run
They soon beheld him with surprize
And gazed on him with stedfast eyes
The blood had issued from the wound
And thawed a passage to the ground
They took him up and bore him home
Put him to bed in a warm room
They washed his limbs and dressed his wounds
And tried to force some medsin down
All useful remedies was tried
Yet in the evening he died
The word "evening" is pronounced as a trisyllable. The verses
are sung with a doleful drawl.
The words offer a curious correspondence to those relating to
Beckwith. In the latter song we also read of a dry "chunk " or
piece of wood, which by falling caused the death of a woodcutter.
Early American Ballads.
The chunk was thirty feat in length
and was exceeding dry,
so rotten it had not much strength
did burn most vemantly.
It has been assumed that the rhymes to which this latter verse
belongs were designed for reading rather than oral recitation; but
the popularity of those presently to be cited may alter this view.
SPRINGFIELD MOUNTAIN.
A.
It has been pointed out to me that the original version of this
ballad is to be found in the "History of Western Massachusetts,"
by Josiah Gilbert Holland, Springfield, I855. In an account of Wilbraham,
to which town the song seems to belong, Dr. Holland remarks:
"On the 7th of August, I76I, occurred an event which has
been celebrated in song. It is doubtful whether any piece of American
doggerel has been so fortunate in the term of its perpetuation.
It relates to the death of Timothy Merrick, from the bite of a rattlesnake,
and has been added to and modified, until the versions of it
are numberless. The verses are said to have been written by a
young woman to whom the unfortunate man was engaged to be
married. A gravestone still marks the spot where he sleeps, but
the ballad, of which the following is an authentic copy, preserved in
the family, bids fair to outlast the marble."
On Springfield mountains there did dwell
A likeley youth was known full well
Lieutenant Merrick onley son
A likeley youth near twenty one.
One friday morning he did go
in to the medow and did mow
A round or two then he did feal
A pisen serpent at his heal.
When he received his deadly wond
he dropt his sythe a pon the ground
And strate for home wase his intent
Calling aloude still as he went,
tho all around his voys wase hered
but none of his friends to him apiere
they thought it wase some workmen calld
And there poor Timothy alone must fall.
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7ournal of American Folk-Lore.
So soon his Carfull father went
to seak his son with discontent
And there hes fond onley son he found
ded as a stone a pon the ground.
And there he lay down sopose to rest
withe both his hands Acrost his brest
his mouth and eyes Closed fast
And there poor man he slept his last.
his father vieude his track with greate concern
Where he had ran across the corn
unevin tracks where he did go
did apear to stagger two and frow.
The seventh of August sixty one
this fatull axadint was done
Let this a warning be to all
to be prepared when god does call.
It may probably have been the quaintness of the melody which
gave the ballad a wide popularity; as already mentioned (vol. xii.
p. 242), it has obtained currency as a favorite lullaby for children.
The composition must therefore have been originally sung rather
than composed for reading or even recitation. The parallel case of
Isaac Orcutt justifies a suspicion that the verses treating the fate of
the Merrick youth were also prepared for chanting at the funeral,
and constituted a dirge.
The versions which follow will serve to show in what manner the
song was altered in the course of its wide diffusion.
B.
On Spring- field Moun-tain there did dwell A love - ly youth, I
knfeuwll well Ri tick a ck a ra Ri tick a ick a ra de de ?ro.
knew full well Ri tick a rick a ra Ri tick a rick a ra de ri de ro.
On Springfield Mountain there did dwell
A lovely youth, I knew full well
Ri tick a rick a ra
Ri tick a rick a ra de ri de ro.
One Friday morning he did go
Down in the meadow for to mow.
Io8
Early American Ballads.
He had not mowed across the field
Before a black snake bit him on the heel.
When he received this deadly wound
He dropped his scythe right on the ground.
They took him to his Sally dear
Which made him feel quite wondrous queer.
" Oh, Johnny dear, why did you go
Down in the meadow for to mow ?"
" Oh, Sally dear, and don't you know
'T is daddy's grass and must be mowed?"
At last he died, gave up the ghost,
To Abraham's bosom he did post.
Now all young men, a warning take
And avoid the bite of a big black snake.
Ri tick a rick a ra
Ri tick a rick a ra de ri de ro.1
The informant remarks -
"I think it is only fair to say that my spelling varies from the
original, as I heard it; but as I cannot minutely make the facts,
it seems to be best not to tamper with the orthography of the ballad.
It is probable that ' mountain' should be pronounced mounting, that
'heel' should rhyme with' field,' wound' with ' ground,' and that the
word 'deadly' should be pronounced as if written deadli, 'lovely,'
loveli, etc.
" For the melody I can vouch in a general way only, as my musical
ability - if it can be called that - is not of an executive order. The
gentleman who has recorded it thinks it to be correct, or as I have
given it to him, but it seems to me to lack something. Perhaps the
proper expression can be given to the transcript which I send you,
if one has a slight knowledge of ballad singing, or knows aught of,
or loves, olden days and olden ways."
C.
In Springfield mountain there did dwell
A love-/y youth I knew full well.
Ri tu da day, ri tu da day,
Ri tu da day, tu da day.
1 Contributedb y Mr. John L. Earll,o f Utica, N. Y., who learnedi t according
to the recitationo f a lady fromV ermont.
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I I 7ournal of American Folk-Lore.
One fine May morning he did go
Down in the meadow for to mow.
He had not mowed half re-ound the field
When a pizen sarpint bit his heel.
He lay right daoun upon the ground,
Shut up his eyes and looked all around.
They sent right in for Sal-ly dear,
Which made him feel so mighty queer.
" Oh John-ny dear, why did you go
Down in the medder for to mow ?"
" Oh Sal-ly dear, you always know
'T is dad's grass and it must be mowed."
D.
In Springfield-town there once did dwell
A lovely youth that I knew very well,
Lalalu, lalalu, lalalu, lalalu,
Lalalu, lalalu, lia.
One day this lovely youth did go
Down in the meadow for to mow.
He mowed it all round, but at length did feel
A pizen serpant bite him on the heel.
They carried him home to his mother dear,
Which made that old gal feel very queer.
Oh Johnny dear, why did you go
Down in the meadow for to mow?
O mother dear, did you not know
'T was dad's own field and must be mowed.
And so he died and gave up the ghost,
And down to the devil he did post.
1 Contributed by Mrs. Chase, Washington, D. C.; the sequel has escaped her
memory. The song was one that was sung to the children in the first reader by
the district school-teacher of the West Bethany district schoolhouse, in Genesee
County, New York, about six miles north of Batavia, the county seat. At the
time the informant wondered why "teacher sang such a 'homely'" song; the
teacher was never in New England, but lived on the southeast edge of the county.
Early American Ballads.
A crying, crying as he went,
That cruel, cruel, sarpient.
Lalalu, lalalu, lalalu, lalalu,
Lalalu, lalalu, lia.1
E.
On Springfield mountains there did dwell
A comely youth, known full well,
Leftenant Curtis' only son,
A comely youth just twenty-one.
One day this lovely youth did go
Down in the meadow for to mow;
He had not mowed half round the field
Fore a pizen sarpint bit his heel.
He looked around, but looked in vain,
No one came nigh, for to ease his pain;
So he made up his mind his time had come,
And laid his head on a cold stun.
So this young man gave up the ghost,
And forth to Abraham's bosom did post,
Out of the meadow where he came to mow,
With nubbody nigh for to see him go.2
F.
He took the sarpint in his hand,
And straightway went to Molly Bland;
Now Molly had a holler tooth,
And the poison entered and killed them both.8
G.
In the preceding paper, I have noted that the song had been
printed by George H. Derby, or, according to his pseudonym, John
Phcenix, author of the "Squibob Papers," New York, I865. In
this version the ballad went as follows -
On Springfield mounting, thar did dwell,
A likely youth, I knowed him well;
Leftenant Carter's only son,
A comely youth, nigh twenty-one.
1 Contributedb y Mr W. H. Payne,o f South Haven, Mich.,a s learnedf ifty
ye2a rs ago. Contributedb y Mrs.J . E. Dunham,M uncie,I nd., whose father,a nativeo f
Vermont, used the song as a lullaby.
3 Contributedb y Mrs. M. L. Debarry,R ockfordI, ll., as the last verseo f a song
learnedm oret han fifty-fivey ears ago froma n old servant; the melodyi mpressed
her as quaint and striking.
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7ournal of American Folk-Lore.
One Monday morning, he did go
Intew the meadow for to mow,
And all ter once, he thar did feel
A pizen sarpint bite his heel.
Quick as he felt the sarpent bite
He raised his scythe, with all his might
He struck ter once a deadly blow,
That lay the pizen creeter low.
He tuk the riptyle in his hand,
And straightway went tew Molly Bland;
Oh! Molly, Molly, here you see
A pizen sarpent, what bit me.
Zerubbabel, why did ye go
Intu the meadow for to mow?
Oh! Molly Bland, I thought you knowed
'T was Daddy's field, and must be mowed.
Then Molly Bland, she squatted down,
And sucked the pizen from the wound;
But oh ! she had a rotten tewth;
The venim soon affected both.
Oh, then they ware all spotted o'er
With all the colors that the sarpent wore;
They laid 'em both upon a bed,
And they swelled up and di-i-ed !
Then when they had gin up the ghost,
From " Springfield Mounting " they went, post;
And they larfed, and sung, as up they went,
As chipper as if there wa'nt no pizen sar-pent.
It will be seen that nearly all the variations found in the version
of Mr. Derby, and which at first sight appear as designedly ludicrous,
nevertheless had a popular origin.
Absurd as the piece may be thought, when regarded from a literary
point of view, it is none the less valuable and suggestive, when
considered in relation to theoretical knowledge. We have a striking
example of a song composed in a particular place, on a definite occasion,
with regard to circumstantial accuracy, and by a person of some
literary education, which nevertheless, almost in our own time, has
passed into folk-lore, and obtained popular currency. The example
makes clear that any ballad, no matter how ancient and universal,
112
Early American Ballads.
might very well have originated in one mind, at one place, and been
accompanied by distinguishing circumstances, which in course of
time it abdicated with the result of becoming more vaguely human.
Unless we had the original version, we should not be able to speak
of any particular author of the New England ballad; in the course
of its currency it has received additions and undergone changes
which cause its variants to represent different minds; it has, in this
respect, had many authors. None the less, the composition had its
birth in one mind, composing with perfectly clear consciousness,
and in the ordinary literary manner. So far, the ballad of Isaac
Orcutt or of the Merrick youth may be taken to represent the entire
ballad literature. The theory that ballads were born out of a mental
state quite independent of any conditions familiar to literature,
that they represent an unconscious cerebration, that, to use a phrase
which to my mind conveys no distinct meaning, they possessed
"communal origins," has no more application to the songs of old
England than of New England, no more place in the twelfth century
than the eighteenth. So far as the existing stock is concerned, and
that is all of which we have knowledge, such mystical phrases are
calculated to promote nothing save confusion of thought and expression.
Again, the history of the song forcibly illustrates the manner in
which popular tradition, setting out from a basis more or less answering
to real life, ordinarily absorbs romantic elements, loses relation
to the original surroundings, and may develop into a fanoiful
narrative; while again, the sentiments, which originally were profoundly
serious and even solemn, in a more cultivated and sophisticated
period are vulgarized and rendered prosaic, until at last the
primitive earnestness survives only as a jest.
In regard to custom, we have encountered a usage which seems
at least to have been local in western Massachusetts, the habit of
chanting at funerals, and in the form of a dirge, the death story of
the departed. There is not at hand sufficient evidence to permit
the assumption that such observance, if indeed it should prove to
have been frequent in this neighborhood, represented a general practice.
It is nevertheless obvious that the probabilities are all in favor
of an ancient origin for such a usage existing in a remote and isolated
community. In all probability the chant would not have been
allowed on a solemn occasion, unless it had old precedent. The
New England village communities were exactly those in which we
might expect to encounter.r elics of a habit abandonedi n Great Britain.
Very likely, if the whole truth could be known, the rite observed
in the case of Orcutt, and perhaps also of Merrick and Beckwith,
may have had roots extending to the times at which it was
VOL. XIII.- NO. 49. 8
I I 3
7ournal of American Folk-Lore.
customary for minstrels to chant at a funeral feast the manner of
departure of the dead man and the exploits of his ancestors. But
on this head opinion must be tentative; perhaps further information
and inquiry may bring light.
These songs, of which the history can definitely be traced, may
very well represent what took place on a larger scale. A whole
class of ballads might owe their origin to similar practices. But in
the case of English ballads, the matter is complicated by the consideration
of their international quality. Any important and widely
diffused song, not too definitely attached to the soil, is liable to migrate
from tongue to tongue, and ordinarily does so migrate. We
have a situation answering to that of language, or of the games of
children. Words and plays may be constructed indefinitely, but it
is not necessary.to invent them, because a stock answering all purposes
already exists. New words and new games are continually
coming into being, but are repressed by the existing growth which
already occupies the ground. There are many old English ballads
which describe the circumstances of the death of the hero, and which
might have originated as did the song of Isaac Orcutt; but it by no
means follows that they did so originate. It is something, however,
to exhibit the inventive capacity which would be adequate to supply
the existing stock, even though its presence may otherwise be explained;
such productiveness is illustrated by the New England
ballads, which therefore offer an important contribution to ballad
literature; and it is to be hoped that a more complete gathering may
be made of such compositions.
Passing to ballads of the ancient type, and presumably composed
in the fourteenth century or earlier, it may be said that the pages of
this Journal, as well as the collection of Professor Child, have contained
a sufficient number of American versions of such ballads to
show that they survived in considerable number among the English
in the new world.
The ballads which have hitherto been cited are of modern origin.
It has already been set forth that English ballads deserving the title
of ancient must be considered, in general, to have an origin earlier
than the sixteenth century. These songs have usually been considered
to belong exclusively to Scotland, or to the border country.
For the most part, however, they are in reality English, and have
been familiar in England; that they have been recorded in Scotland,
and are characterized by Scottish dialect, depends only upon the
greater persistence of tradition in an isolated region; they have survived
in Scotland, and been forgotten in English counties, where
they once were familiar. Whether as the result of old English inheritance,
or in consequence of communication by Scotch immigrants,
II4
Early American Ballads.
- and both modes of preservation have cooperated - the ancient
ballads have been freely sung in America; indeed, they have lasted
in the United States rather longer than in the mother country.
Even at the present day some are current in districts marked by
simplicity of manners, especially in the mountainous portions of the
Southern States. As late as I820 such ballads were still sung at
gatherings of young people in New England, as shown by a remarkable
version of " Fair Margaret and Sweet William," communicated
to Professor Child (" English and Scottish Ballads," v. 293).
LORD RANDAL.
The song of this name (Child, No. I2), like the history of the
Merrick youth, deals with a death caused by the venom of a serpent.
In this case, however, the hero is destroyed by the agency of his
" true love" or betrothed bride, who administers the poison. The
ballad is of wide diffusion through Europe, and is connected with a
class of similar histories, including the celebrated Italian ballad of
"Bella Lombarda," which, with no very good reason, has been supposed
to owe its origin to the story of the Lombard queen Rosemunda
of the sixth century. This English ballad has become popular
in a nursery song, very familiar in this country. A number of
American variants are given by Child, to which may be added the
following: -
A.
"Where have you been, Charlie, O Charlie my son ?
Where have you been, Charlie, my dear and sweet one?"
"Been a-courting Pretty Polly, mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at my heart, and fain would lie down."
"What had you for supper, O Charlie my son?
What had you for supper, my dear and sweet one ?"
"We had eels fried in butter; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at my heart, and fain would lie down."
"What color were they, Charlie, O Charlie my son ?
What color were they, my dear and sweet one ?"
"They were black with white speckles; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at my heart, and fain would lie down."
"0, she's poisoned you, Charlie, 0 Charlie my son!
0, she's poisoned you, Charlie, my dear and sweet oe ! "
"Yes, she's poisoned me, mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at my heart, and fain would lie down."
I From Mrs. Fanny D. Bergen, as formerly current in Mansfield, northern Ohio,
where it was known to her as the familiar song of a child named McCulloch.
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7ournal of American Folk-Lore.
B.
"O, where have you been, my dear little one ?
0, where have you been, my dear little son ?"
"To visit my grandma, mother, make my bed soon,
For I 'm sick to my heart, and I fain would lie down."
"What did you have for supper," etc.
"Speckled eels and fresh butter," etc.
"What will you will to your brother," etc.
"Coat, jacket, and trousers,"
"What will you will to your father ?" etc.
"Horse, saddle, and bridle," etc.
"What will you will to your grandmother, my dear little one ?
What will you will to your grandmother, my dear little son ?"
"The torments eternal; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick to my heart, and fain would lie down."1
C.
"Mother, make my bed soon,
For I feel a pain in my heart, and I fain would lie down."
" What will you leave to your father, dear lord duke ?"
"Four horses and a carriage, mother, make my bed soon," etc.
"What will you leave to your mother," etc.
"Three horses and a carriage," etc.
"What will you leave to your brother," etc.
"Three horses and a carriage," etc.
"What will you leave to your sister," etc.
"My gold and silver," etc.
"What will you leave to your true love," etc.
"A rope to hang her with," etc.
"What was it she gave you, young Henry, my son ?"
Three little freckled fishes, mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm sick at my heart, and I fain would lie down." 2
D.
With these versions may be compared a Scotch variant, obtained
in America, but the history of which I am not now able to explain:
1 Related to Mrs. Bergen by Mrs. Amanda M. Thrush, now of Plymouth, Ohio,
as heard in her girlhood in northern New York.
2 Contributed by Mrs. Bergen, from the recitation of Mary Brown, Miramichi,
N. B.
Early American Ballads.
" 0, whar hae ye been a' day, Lord Donald, my son?
0 whar hae ye been a' day, my jollie young man ?"
"I 've been awa' courtin', mither, mak' my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down."
"What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald, my son?
What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man ?"
"A dish o' sma fishes, mither, mak' my bed sune,
For I 'm sick at the heart, and fain wad lie down."
" , I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Donald, my son,
O, I fear ye are poisoned, my jollie young man."
" yas, I am poisoned, mither, mak' my bed sune,
For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down."
"What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son ?
What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man ?"
"A tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,
And lat her hang there for the poisoning o' me."
The many versions of the ballad offer an interesting example of
variations in a song which must of necessity have had origin in the
mind of a single English reciter, who doubtless gave it form as the
translation of some version of the Continental ballad. The introduction
of fishes instead of serpents. as the means of poisoning, goes
back to the European ballad.
LAMKIN.
This savage history relates (Child, No. 93) how a mason (who
may originally have himself been a knight) builds a castle for a
nobleman, fails to obtain his pay, utters threats against the defaulter,
and succeeds by the aid of a nurse in entering the castle of the latter,
where he stabs first a babe, and then the lady of the house, who
is brought downstairs by the screams of her child; the murderer is
finally hanged, and the nurse burned at the stake. An American
version has been furnished to Professor Child by Mrs. Emma M.
Backus, as sung in North Carolina (v. 295). The ballad has also been
sung by negroes of Prince William County, Virginia, who learned
it from Scotch settlers (Child, iii. 5I5). The following variant is
furnished by Mrs. M. L. Debarry, Rockport, Ill., as sung in Central
New York half a century ago, by an old servant. The tune is remembered
as quaint and doleful.
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yournal of American Folk-Lore.
False Simpkins was a good mason
As ever laid stone;
He built Lord Donald's castle,
But Lord Donald paid none.
[A verse wanting.l]
Said the lord to his lady,
"I 'm going away from home,
And what would you do
If false Simpkins should come?"
"I fear not false Simpkins
Or none of his kin;
I will keep my doors bolted
And my windows barred in."
She kept her doors bolted
And her windows barred in,
All except one kitchen window,
Where false Simpkins got in.
[A verse wanting.2]
False Simpkins did rock
While false nurse she did sing,
And the blood from this little babe's heart
To a silver basin did spin.
[A verse wanting.8]
False Simpkins was hung
On a gallows so high,
While false nurse she was burning
In a fire near by.
1 John Lankin then swore,
If the lord did not pay him,
He would break into his castle,
And murder all his kinsmen.
Version of Mrs. Backus.
2 He took out a penknife,
Baith pointed and sharp,
And he stabbed the babie
Three times in the heart.
Motherwell MS.
8 In the fuller versions, the lady is lured downstairs by the cries of her babe,
and killed in spite of her pleadings.
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Early American Ballads.
THE WIFEO F USHER'SW ELL.
These ballads do not contain much poetry to redeem their savagery;
I cannot, therefore, deny myself the pleasure of citing the
version of the " Wife of Usher's Well" (Child, No. 79) communicated
to his work by Mrs. E. M. Backus, as sung by " poor whites " of Polk
County, N. C. (Child, v. 294). The ballad, in its original form,
seems to have recited that the three sons of a noble lady have been
sent to a distant land, according to the usual rule of chivalric education,
which prescribed foreign service for young men ambitious of
distinction. The youths fail to return, and the mother grieves over
their absence to a degree which prevents the spirits from lying tranquilly
in their graves; in the season of the long nights they return,
and present themselves in the form of life, are received with joy,
entertained, and bedded, but before morning are compelled to obey
the law of ghosts, and retire to their distant graves. It seems to
be a touch of modern change which has altered the lads from the
period fit for acquiring knighthood to babes; in this form the ballad
made a warmer appeal to the maternal heart. Otherwise, however,
the version excites astonishment by its antiquity and completeness.
There are touches of mediaeval manners; the table is "fixed," that
is placed on its trestle, according to the practice of the Middle Age,
and we read of the golden cloth with which the bed was formerly
covered.
There was a lady fair and gay,
And children she had three:
She sent them away to some northern land,
For to learn their grammaree.
They had n't been gone but a very short time,
About three months to a day,
When sickness came to that land,
And swept those babes away.
There is a king in the heavens above,
That wears a golden crown:
She prayed that he would send her babies home
To-night or in the morning soon.
It was about one Christmas time,
When the nights was long and cool,
She dreamed of her three little lovely babes,
Come running in their mother's room.
The table was fixed and the cloth was spread,
And on it put bread and wine:
"Come sit you down, my three little babes,
And eat and drink of mine."
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yournal of American Folk-Lore.
"We '11 neither eat your bread, dear mother,
Nor we '11 neither drink your wine;
For to our Saviour we must return
To-night or in the morning soon."
The bed was fixed in the back room;
On it were some clean white sheet,
And on the top was a golden cloth,
To make those little babies sleep.
" Wake up ! wake up !" says the oldest one,
" Wake up! it's almost day.
And to our Saviour we must return
To-night or in the morning soon.
"Green grass grows at our head, dear mother,
Green grass grows at our feet:
The tears you shed for us three babes,
(They) wet our winding sheet." 1
THE ELFIN KNIGHT.
The ballad to which this name has been given (Child, No. 2)
recites, in the Scottish versions, how a maiden hears the magic horn
of a fairy knight, and wishes to possess the horn and be embraced
by its owner. The elf accordingly appears, and makes enigmatical
demands, which are successfully evaded by the girl. In its original
form the song no doubt described the fairy as claiming over the
maid rights which her incautious wish had given him; her cleverness
defeats this essay, for in the dealing of men and fiends it is a
recognized principle that superior knowledge is an element of safety.
The ballad itself is European, while the theme has an ancient history.
Games of riddle-guessing, from the time of Samson, furnished
a means of amusement and opportunity of betting. Just as
an ingenious guesser might back his talent by reckless wagers extending
even to the risk of personal freedom, so spirits would be
inclined to engage in such contests as a means of obtaining the souls
and bodies of mortals. The ballad continues to be traditionally sung
in America, without the introductory piece of fairy lore; the versions
have every appearance of English, rather of Scottish descent, and
may have been current from early colonial times. A variant still
traditional in Boston has been printed in this Journal (vii. 228).
As I walked out in yonder dell,
Let every rose grow merry in time;
I met a fair damsel, her name it was Nell;
I said: " Will you be a true lover of mine ?"
1 As recited: Won't wet our winding-sheet.
120
Early American Ballads. 121
This version gives only the first half of the ballad; the following,
still sung in Georgia, is more complete; the refrain shows the original
form, curiously altered in the Boston variant:-
"As you go up to yonders town,
Rosemary and thyme
Give my respects to that young girl,
And she shall be a true lover of mine.
Go tell her to make me a cambric shirt,
Rosemary and thyme
Without a seam of needlework,
And she shall be a true lover of mine.
Go tell her to wash it in yonders well,
Rosemary and thyme
Where water never flowed nor rain ever fell,
And she shall be a true lover of mine.
Go tell her to hang it on yonders thorn,
Rosemary and thyme
That never has budded since Adam was born,
And she shall be a true lover of mine."
"When you go back to yonders town,
Rosemary and thyme
Give my respects to that young man,
And he shall be a true lover of mine.
Go tell him to buy ten acres of land,
Rosemary and thyme
Betwixt the salt sea and the sand,
And he shall be a true lover of mine.
Go tell him to plant it with one grain of corn,
Rosemary and thyme
And plough it all in with a mooly-cow's horn,
And he shall be a true lover of mine.
Go tell him to mow it with sickle of leather,
Rosemary and thyme
And carry it all in on a peafowl's feather,
And he shall be a true lover of mine.
Go tell him to take it to yonders mill,
Rosemary and thyme
If every grain a barrel shall fill,
He shall be a true lover of mine.
I22 Journal of American Folk-Lore.
Go tell him when all this work is done,
Rosemary and thyme
To come to me for his cambric shirt,
And he shall be a true lover of mine." 1
1 Contributebdy Mrs.E . M. Backus,a s obtainedf rom recitationi n Columbia
County, Ga.
William Wells Newell.