Lord Thomas- Bateman (NC) 1924 Chappell
[My abbreviated title. From Folk Songs of he Roanoke and the Albemarle; 1924, Chappell.
R. Matteson 2014]
Lord Thomas and Fair Ellen- Mrs. Mary Bateman, Elizabeth City, NC; 1924.
O mother, O mother, O mother, says he,
Come riddle this riddle with me:
Would you marry Fair Ellen,
Or bring the Brown Girl home?
The Brown Girl she has house and land,
And Fair Ellen she has none;
Lord Thomas, if you'd be advised by me
You'll bring the Brown Girl home.
Lord Thomas rode up to Fair Ellen's door,
And tingled loud at the ring;
And none was so ready to open as she
And bid Lord Thomas come in.
What news, what news, Lord Thomas, says she,
What news have you brought unto me ?
I've come to ask you to wait upon the Brown Girl,
And tomorrow the wedding will be.
Sad news, sad news, Lord Thomas, says she,
Sad news you have brought unto me;
I thought to be the bride myself,
And have the Brown Girl wait upon me.
O mother, O mother, O mother, says she,
Come riddle this riddle with me:
Would you go to Lord Thomas' wedding,
Or stay at home with thee?
O daughter, if you'd be advised by me
You'll stay at home with me;
For if you go to Lord Thomas' wedding
You'll never come back to me.
Go saddle me up the irony gray,
Go saddle me up the milk-white steed;
For I shall go to Lord Thomas' wedding
If I never come back to thee.
The Brown Girl's dress was a sky-light blue,
Fair Ellen's dress was green;
Every town that she rode through
They taken her to be some queen.
Lord Thomas, Lord Thomas, is this your bride,
She is so wonderful brown?
Once you could have married the finest girl
That ever rode over the ground.
Lord Thomas turned his back upon her,
And the Brown Girl drew her knife,
Her knife both sharp and keen,
And stove it in Fair Ellen's heart.
Lord Thomas turned to F air Ellen and said,
Fair Ellen, what is the matter with thee?
Once your lips were rosy red,
Now your cheeks are no longer bright
And your lips are so very pale.
Lord Thomas, Lord Thomas, ain't you blind,
Or cain't you never see?
Jest look at my heart's blood
A-trinkling down to my knee.
Lord Thomas he turned and took his sword,
His sword so sharp and keen,
And cut the Brown Girl's head off
And stove it against the wall.
Go dig my grave, Lord Thomas says he,
Dig it both wide and deep;
Place Fair Ellen in my arms
And the Brown Girl at my feet.