Love Henry- Carter (KY) 1917 Sharp G
[My title. From English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians, I, 1932 (Sharp/Karpeles). Notes from the 1932 edition follow.
R. Matteson 2012, 2014]
Notes from the 1932 Edition: No. 18. Young Hunting.
Texts without tunes: — Child's English and Scottish Popular Ballads, No. 68. Cox's Folk Songs of the South, p. 42 (see also further references). Journal of American Folk-Lore, XX. 252.
Texts with tunes: — Child, v. 416. Reed Smith's South Carolina Ballads, p. 107. Journal of American Folk-Lore, xviii. 295 (tune only); XXX. 289. British Ballads from Maine, p. 122. Davis's Traditional Ballads of Virginia, pp. 182 and 566. Sandburg's American Songbag, p. 64. Compare And you shall have the cheers of the cheer cold girl' of D. 4 with 'Ye shall hae cheer, an charcoal clear' in Child's version K 4. Tune H, with text of version G, is published with pianoforte accompaniment in Folk Songs of English Origin, 1st Series.
G. [Love Henry]- Sung by Mrs. FRANCIS CARTER at Beattyville, Lee Co., Ky., Sept. 7, 1917 Sharp G
1 Light you down, light you down, love Henry, she said,
And stay all night with me,
For I have a bed and a fireside too,
And a candle burning bright.
2 I can't get down, nor I won't get down
And stay all night with thee,
For that little girl in the old Declarn
Would think so hard of me.
3 But he slided down from his saddle skirts
For to kiss her snowy white cheek.
She had a sharp knife in her hand,
And she plunged it in him deep.
4 I will get down and I can get down
And stay all night with thee,
For there's no little girl in the old Declarn
That I love any better than thee.
5 Must I ride to the East, must I ride to the West,
Or anywhere under the sun,
To get some good and clever doctor
For to cure this wounded man?
6 Neither ride to the East, neither ride to the West,
Nor nowhere under the sun,
For there's no man but God's own hand
Can cure this wounded man.
7 She took him by the long, yellow locks
And also round the feet;
She plunged him in that doleful well,
Some sixty fathoms deep.
8 And as she turned round to go home,
She heard some pretty bird sing:
Go home, go home, you cruel girl,
Lament and mourn for him.
9 Fly down, fly down, pretty parrot, she said,
Fly down and go home with me.
Your cage shall be decked with beads of gold
And hung in the willow tree.
10 I won't fly down, nor I can't fly down,
And I won't go home with thee,
For you have murdered your own true love,
And you might murder me.
11 I wish I had my little bow-ben
And had it with a string;
I'd surely shoot that cruel bird
That sits on the briers and sings.
12 I wish you had your little bow-ben
And had it with a string;
I'd surely fly from vine to vine;
You could always hear me sing.