George Collins- King (TN) 1917 Sharp MS

George Collins- King (TN) 1917 Sharp MS

[My title. Seven stanzas with music as Bronson 3, from Sharp MSS., 3577/2641. Notes from Sharp's diary follow,

R. Matteson 2015]


Sharp diary 1917 page 117. Thursday 19 April 1917 - Mount Smokey Academy
 
Maud & Storey buggied while I walked to Mr and Mrs Maples, got a version of Little Sir Hugh but only one verse of the text. Called on Hornby’s but got nothing & returned to lunch. After lunch went down Bird’s creek after "Sir Hugh" and eventually got a fairly full version from Mr Luther Campbell and some more songs in Webb’s Creek from Mrs King etc. After dinner I played, Maud and I sang, & Maud danced Jockey, and None so Pretty, to an audience consisting of Mr & Mrs Storey, two young men who work on the farm, and Myrtle a servant who is also a student in the school. This dancing, singing etc we did last night also and this was a repetition by request. I am not feeling too well, partly perhaps the intense heat, or the walking, or the iron water or the food or a combination of all! Have a cough and a sore chest and a good deal of rheumatism — perhaps the altitude is mainly responsible.

George Collins- Sung by Miss Barbara Hannah King at Mount Smokey Academy, TN.  April 19, 1917.

1. George Collins rode home one cold winter's night,
George Collins rode home so fine,
George Collins rode home one cold winter's night,
And then took sick and died.

z. There sits little May in yonders hall,
A-sewing her silk so fine,
And when she heard George Collins was dead
She laid her silk aside.

3. I'll follow George Collins day by day,
I'll follow George Collins to his grave.
She followed him up, she followed him down,
She followed him to his grave,
And on her bended knees she wept she mourned, she pray[d].

4. O daughter, O daughter, what makes you weep?
There's more young men than George.
O mammy, O mammy, George has won my heart,
And now he's dead and gone.

5. Set down the coffin, take off the lid,
Lay back the linen so fine,
And let me kiss his sweet little lips,
For I'm sure he'll never kiss mine.

6. She kissed him on the dairy (deary?) cheeks,
And then she kissed his chin,
And then she kissed his cold, clay lips,
For I'm sure there's no breath within.

7. Don't you see that lonesome little dove
Just hopping from pine to pine?
It's weeping for its lost true love
Just like I weep for mine.