Lord Randall- Almeda Riddle (Ark.) 1970
[From John Quincy Wolf Collection and A Singer and her Songs, 1970. According to Roger Abrahams this ballad was "collected in the last 10 or 15 years." Which means that, even though she was a traditional singer, this version is an arrangement, probably from a book.
R. Matteson 2014]
Bio: Almeda Riddle (1898–1986), an American folk singer who was born and raised in Cleburne County, Arkansas, learned music from her father, a fiddler and singing teacher. She collected and sang traditional ballads throughout her life, usually unaccompanied. Introduced to a wider public by folklorist John Quincy Wolf and musicologist Alan Lomax, Riddle recorded extensively, and claimed to be able to perform over 500 songs. She was often known as Granny Riddle.
LORD RANDALL - Almeda Riddle (Ark.) Recorded on 5/14/70 Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr.
[Click here to listen]
(Dr. Wolf: “Be sure to face around a little bit.”
Mrs. Riddle: “I do better standing up. I’m so lazy, I sit too much. When I work, I make myself stand up.”)
“Now, where have you been, Lord Randall, my son,
And where have you been, oh, my handsome young man?”
“I’ve been a-hunting; will you make my bed soon?
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What will you have for supper, Lord Randall, my son?
What will you have for your supper, oh, my handsome young man?”
“I had my supper; oh, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What ate ye for supper, Lord Randall, my son?
What ate ye for supper, oh, my handsome young man?”
“I had eels and fishes; oh, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“And who cooked your supper, Lord Randall, my son,
And who cooked your supper, my handsome young man?”
“My sweetheart cooked my supper; oh, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What ate your leavings, Lord Randall, my son?
What ate your leavings, my handsome young man?”
“My hawks and my hounds; will you make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What happened to them, Lord Randall, my son?
What happened to them, my handsome young man?”
“They curled up and died; will you make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Randall, my son.
Oh, I fear you’re poisoned, my handsome young man.”
“I know I am poisoned; oh, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What leave you to your father, Lord Randall, my son?
What leave you to your father, my handsome young man?”
“My houses and lands; will you make my bed soon?
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What leave ye your mother, Lord Randall, my son?
What leave ye your mother, my handsome young man?”
“I leave my love and my treasure; oh, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What leave ye your . . .”
(Mrs. Riddle: “I don’t remember what he left to his brother. I get mixed up along about there. It’s been a long time since I’ve sung it. Let’s leave the brother to the imagination. You can look it up in most collections; it’s about the same.”)
“What leave ye your sister, Lord Randall, my son?
What leave ye to your sister, my handsome young man?”
“My gold and my jewels; oh, make my bed soon,
For I’m sick to the heart, and I fain would lie down.”
“What leave you to your sweetheart, Lord Randall, my son?
What leave ye to your sweetheart, my handsome young man?”
“A rope for to hang her, in Hell for to burn.
Oh, I’m sick at my heart, and I fain would lie down.”
(Mrs. Riddle: “That, at least, is a part of it.”)