Loving Henry- Pennington (AR) 1952 Parler B
[From the Ozark Folksong Collection, Reel 152, Item 5. Collected by Carlisle; Transcribed by Parler.
R. Matteson 2014]
Loving Henry - Sung by Mr. John Pennington Fayetteville, Ark. May 1, 1952
Get down, get down, loving Henry, said she,
And stay all night with me,
There's a chair for you and a chair for me
And a candle a-burning free, free, free,
And a candle a-burning free.
I can't get down, Lady Marg'et, he said,
And stay all night with thee,
For my only little girl in the Arkansas land
Will think long of me coming home, home, home,
Will think long of me coming home.
Then bending over the horn of his saddle,
He kissed her one, two, three,
And she drew a sharp knife all in her hand
And she pierced him both wide and deep, deep, deep,
And she pierced him both wide and deep.
Ride on, ride on, loving Henry, said she,
And ride beneath the sun,
For your only little girl in the Arkansas land
Will think long of you coming home, home, home,
Will think long of you coming home.
I can't ride on, Lady Marg'et, he said,
And ride beneath the sun,
For don't you see my own heart's blood
Come a-trinkling down by me, me, me,
Come a-trinkling down by me?
Some taken him by the lily-white hands,
Some taken him by the feet,
And they carried him down to the deep water side
And they plunged him in the deep, deep deep,
And they plunged him in the deep.
Lie there, lie there, loving Henry said she,
Till the meat rots off your bones,
For your oily little girl in the Arkansas land
Will think long of you coming home, home, home,
Will think long of you coming home.
Fly down, fly down, little parrot, she said,
And set upon my knee,
And your cage shall be made of the yaller beaten gold,
And the doors of the ivoree, -ree, -ree,
And the doors of the ivoree.
I can't fly down, Lady Marg'et, he said,
And set upon your knee,
For I saw you murder your own true love,
And I fear that you might kill me, kill me,
And I fear that you might kill me.
I wish I had my new cedar bow,
And an arrow to fit my string,
I'd shoot you right through the tender little breast,
That looks so neat and clean, clean, clean,
That looks so neat and clean.
You've not got your new cedar bow,
Nor an arrow to fit your string,
So I'll set right here in my old old cage,
And the sweet notes I will sing, sing, sing,
And the sweet notes I will sing.