Lord Bateman- Simpson (Ark.) c.1857 Randolph B
[From Randolph; Ozark Folksongs, Vol. 1, 1946.
R. Matteson 2014]
B. Lord Bateman. Contributed by Professor F. M. Goodhue, Commonwealth College, Mena, Ark., Nov. 16, 1930, who writes: "This song -ballad...was learned in Baxter County, Ark., from one Jeff Simpson, born and raised up White River way. He was about forty years old at the time, which perhaps sets the song back to about 1857, when he learned it. There is no doubt that it is an early importation, and it is given here with all its idiosyncrasies, exactly as dictated, verbatim et literatim."
There was a gentleman in the courts of England,
A gentleman of high degree,
An' on this earth he grew discontented,
An' oh I'll sail across the sea.
He sailed all over the deep wide ocean,
Until he come to Turkey Shore,
An' then he was caught an' put in prison,
No hope evermore of bein' set free.
The jailor had a fair young daughter,
A fair young daughter of high degree,
She stole those keys of her father's prison,
Says I will set Lord Bateman free.
She carried him to her father's cellar
An' there drew cups of ale an' wine,
At every draught that she drank to him,
Oh Lord Bateman, I wish you was mine.
There they drew each other's love,
An' it was true love, an' he says
He never would marry no other woman
Unless she married another man.
Seven long years has passed an' gone,
Seven long years an' two or three,
She gathered up her gold, her diamonds,
It's oh, Lord Bateman I'll go an' see.
She rode till she come to Lord Bateman's castle,
She hollered till she made it ring,
Up rose Lord Bateman's bolt-pride waiter,
Oh who is this, that won't come in?
Oh sir, is this Lord Bateman's castle,
Or is he with himself in?
Oh yes, yes, yes, cried the bolt-pride waiter,
He just this day brought his new bride in.
Oh tell him that I'd like to see him,
An' tell him to remember me,
An' never to forget that fair young lady
Who set him free from prisonee.
There stands a fair lady all at your door,
She is as fair as fair can be;
She wears a gold ring on her little finger,
An' on the other one two or three.
She wears more gold around about her,
Than would buy your bride an' company!
Up rose Lord Bateman from his table,
This fair lady he must see.
An' then he cried to the land of living,
My Susannah has crossed the sea!
. . . .
. . . .
Oh sir, this day I have married your daughter,
But she is none the worse by me,
She come here on a horse an' saddle,
She may return in the coach with thee.