English & Other 272. The Suffolk Miracle
CONTENTS:
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The Williams Manuscripts
Author(s): Frank Purslow
Source:
Folk Music Journal
, Vol. 1, No. 5 (1969), pp. 301-315
Published by: English Folk Dance + Song Society
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duced below are the texts of a few songs noted by Williams which
I consider to have more than ordinary merit, or which may be
unfamiliar generally. For permission to print these I am indebted
to the Chief Librarian, Swindon Public Libraries.
1. Perhaps the most important of Williams' finds is this version
of "The Suffolk Miracle" noted from Richard May, Fairford,
Glos. It was extremely rare sixty years ago and now seems to
have disappeared altogether. It is included by Prof. Child as
No. 272 of The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, where he
traces it to a broadside of the mid-17th century, subsequently
reprinted by several presses. The tune direction on the early
broadsides is "My Bleeding Heart" which Claude M. Simpson
(in The British Broadside Ballad and Its Music) describes as "a
lost air". The metre of Richard May's version is exactly the same
as the early broadside versions, but the story has been greatly
pared away, probably by subsequent 18th- and 19th-century
printers who considered the 28 verses of the earlier song too
many to commend it to contemporary singers. But even the
length of the original (?) gave only a garbled account of what
Child describes as "one of the most remarkable tales and one
of the most impressive and beautiful ballads of the European
continent". He gives many references to European versions,
mostly from Russia and the Balkans, together with a description
of a much more coherent prose version of the story from Cornwall,
current in the 19th century.
THE SUFFOLK MIRACLE (G1.90)
(THE LOVER'S GHOST)
It's of a farmer in our town,
His election (?) goes the country round;
He had a daughter, a beauty bright,
In every place was her heart's delight.
(On whom he placed his heart's delight ?-F.P.)
Many a young man a-courting came,
But none of them could her favour gain,
Till a young man came, of low degree,
Came underhanded and she fancied he.
305
Soon as her father came this to hear,
He separated her from her dear;
For four score miles this fair maid was sent
To her uncle's house for her discontent.
Nine days after this young man died,
And his ghost appeared at her bedside-
"Rise, rise, my love! and come with me,
And break these chains, and set me free."
The maid arose and got up behind,
And he drove as swift as the very wind,
And not a word did this young man speak
But-"My dearest dear, how my head does ache!"
She had a handkerchief of a holland kind,
And around his head she did him (it?) bind;
She kissed his pale lips, and thus did say-
"My dearest dear, you're as cold as clay."
He drove her up to her father's door,
And (She?) saw her father standing on the floor-
"O father dear, did you send for me
By such a messenger, kind sir?" said she.
He wrung his hands and tore his hair,
Much like a man in deep despair;
He tore the hair all from his head,
Crying-"Daughter dear, the young man is dead."
Early next mom this maid arose,
And straightway to the churchyard goes,
She rose the corpse that was nine days dead,
And found her handkerchief bound round his head.
O parents, parents, a warning take:
Don't chide your children, for Heaven's sake!
Don't chide your children, for Heaven's sake!
Or you'll repent when it is too late
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It's of a farmer all in the town [Suffolk Miracle][Holland Handkerchief]
It's of a farmer all in this town,
His name was up through the country round;
He had a daughter, a beauty bright,
And she alone was his heart's delight.
Many a noble lord came this dame to see,
But still she could fancy none of these;
But of late came one of low degree,
He came of late, so she fancied he.
When her father came of this to hear,
He separated her from her dear;
Three score miles he did her send
To her uncle's house, to her discontent.
One night as she was for her bed bound,
She heard a noise and a {dismal/deadly} sound;
Saying "Mary dear, rise from your bed
[I've come, at last, so we can wed."]
"Here is a token, my heart's delight
Your father's steed to ride home this night;
Another token I've brought to you,
Your mother's cloak, and her silk coat too."
They rode more quickly than the wind,
But still he minded his love behind.
He heaved a sigh, and thus did say,
"O my dearest dear, how my head does ache."
Until they came to her father's gate,
And there few words to his love did say,
"Alight, my love, and go to your bed,
Your father's steed I'll see combed and fed."
A white holland handkerchief she drew
And bound it round his head, and tightly too
She went up to her father's hall
Loudly for her father she did call.
"O father dear, did you send for me,
By my loved Jimmy, kind sir?" said she;
It's well he knew this young man was dead,
Which made every hair stand up on his head.
This young man's darling cried more and more,
The young man was dead just nine months and more;
The grave was opened, where he was laid,
With his love's holland handkerchief bound round his head.
Source: M Dawney, The Ploughboy's Glory, EFDSS, 1977
Notes: Collected by Frances Jekyll and George Butterworth from Mr Smith, Stoke Lacey, Hereford, Sept, 1907.
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The Suffolk Miracle, from A Collection of Old Ballads edited by Ambrose Philips (London: J. Roberts, 1723), page 266:
XXXVIII. The Suffolk Miracle: Or, A Relation of a Young Man, who a Month after his Death appear'd to his Sweetheart, and carry'd her on Horseback behind him for forty Miles in two Hours, and was never seen after but in his Grave.
To the Tune of, My Bleeding Heart, &c.
A wonder stranger n'er was known
Than what I now shall treat upon,
In Suffolk there did lately dwell,
A Farmer rich, and known full well.
He had a Daughter fair and bright,
On whom he placed his whole Delight;
Her Beauty was beyond compare,
She was both Virtuous and Fair,
There was a young Man living by,
Who was so charmed with her Eye,
That he could never be at rest.
He was by Love so much possest:
He made Address to her, and she,
Did grant him Love immediately;
But when her Father came to hear,
He parted her, and her poor Dear:
Forty Miles distant was she sent,
Unto his Brother's, with Intent
That she should there so long remain,
Till she had chang'd her Mind again.
Hereat this Young Man sadly griev'd,
But knew not how to be reliev'd;
He sigh'd and sob'd continually,
That his true Love he could not see.
She by no Means could to him send,
Who was her Heart's espoused Friend;
He sigh'd, he griev'd, but all in vain,
For she confin'd must still remain.
He mourn'd so much, that Doctor's Art
Could give no Ease unto his Heart,
Who was so strangely terrified,
That in short time for Love he dy'd.
She that from him was sent away,
Knew nothing of his Dying-day,
But constant still she did remain,
And lov'd the Dead, altho' in vain.
After he had in Grave been laid
A Month or more, unto this Maid
He came in middle of the Night,
Who joy'd to see her Heart's Delight.
Her Father's Horse, which well she knew,
Her Mother's Hood and Safe-Guard too,
He brought with him, to testify,
Her Parents Order he came by.
Which when her Uncle understood,
He hop'd it would be for her good,
And gave Consent to her straitway,
That with him she should come away.
When she was got her Love behind,
They pass'd as swift as any Wind,
That in two Hours, or little more,
He brought her to her Father's Door.
But as they did this great Haste make,
He did complain his Head did ake;
Her Handkerchief she then took out,
And ty'd the same his Head about:
And unto him she thus did say,
Thou art as cold as any Clay;
When we come Home a Fire we'll have;
But little dream'd he went to Grave.
Soon were they at her Father's Door,
And after she n'er saw him more:
I'll set the Horse up, then he said,
And there he left this harmless Maid.
She knock'd, and strait a Man he cry'd,
Who's there? 'Tis I, she then reply'd;
Who wonder'd much her Voice to hear,
And was possess'd with Dread and Fear.
Her Father he did tell, and then
He star'd like an affrighted Man;
Down Stairs he ran, and when he see her,
Cry'd out, My Child, how cam'st thou here?
Pray Sir, did you not send for me,
By such a Messenger, said she;
Which made his Hair stare on his Head,
As knowing well that he was dead:
Where is he? then to her he said,
He's in the Stable, quoth the Maid.
Go in, said he, and go to Bed,
I'll see the Horse well littered.
He stair'd about, and there could he
No Shape of any Mankind see,
But found his Horse all on a Sweat,
Which made him in a deadly Fret.
His Daughter he said nothing to,
Nor none else, tho' full well they knew,
That he was dead a Month before,
For fear of grieving her full sore.
Her Father to the Father went
Of the Deceas'd, with full Intent
To tell him what his Daughter said,
So both came back unto this Maid.
They ask'd her, and she still did say,
'Twas he that then brought her away;
Which when they heard, they were amaz'd,
And on each other strangely gaz'd.
A Handkerchief she said she ty'd
About his Head; and that they try'd,
The Sexton they did speak unto,
That he the Grave would then undo:
Affrighted, then they did behold
His Body turning into Mould,
And though he had a Month been dead,
This Handkerchief was about his Head.
This thing unto her then they told,
And the whole Truth they did unfold;
She was thereat so terrified
And grieved, that she quickly died.
Part not true Love, you rich Men then,
But if they be right honest Men
Your Daughters love, give them their way,
For Force oft breeds their Lives decay.