Pretty Sally- Davis (VT) pre1946 Flanders A
[From Flanders; Ancient Ballads (Version A). Coffins notes follow mine.
This ballad is not to be confused with the popular ballad, Child No. 73 Lord Thomas and Fair Annet, which is commonly known in the US, and Canada as "The Brown Girl."
US and Canada versions are based on the hundreds of late 18th century English broadsides sometimes titled "The Sailor from Dover" or "Sally and her Truelove Billy."
Child's B version of 295, "The Brown, Brown Girl" collected by Rev. S. Baring-Gould, introduced stanzas from the "Sally and her Truelove Billy" songs. In his article "Folk Song Tradition, Revival and Re-Creation" Steve Gardham has shown that Baring-Gould's ballad is a re-creation of two ballads and not traditional.
To put it simply, the versions are not related to "The Brown Girl" but are part of the "The Sailor from Dover" and "Sally and her Truelove Billy" song group. In the US and Canada some common titles are "Pretty Sally," "Sally," and "A Rich Irish Lady." They have been put here following Bronson and others who have attached them to Child 295, not because they belong here.
R. Matteson 2014]
The Irish Lady, or Sally from London
(Laws P9, related to Child 295) [Coffin's notes]
Child, V, 166, gives the story of "The Brown GirI" as follows:
A young man who has been attached to a girl sends her word by letter that he cannot fancy her because she is so brown (he has left her for another). she sends a disdainful reply. He writes again that he is dangerously ill (he is love-sick), and begs her to come quickly and give him back his faith. she takes her time in going, and when she comes to the sick man's bedside, cannot stand for laughing. she has, however, brought a white wand with her, which she strokes on his breast, in sign that she gives him back the faith which he had given her. But as to forgiving and forgetting, that she will never do; she will dance upon his grave.
There are not traditional versions of this ballad in America. However, a song much like "The Brown Girl" and usually called something similar to "The Irish Lady" or "Sally from London" has had great popularity in Britain and this country. It derives from broadsides of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; in it, the sexes of the lovers are reversed, the brown complexion of the girl is not mentioned, and "Are you the doctor?" lines are almost always present. Normally, it ends with the death of the girl, but a great many minor variations occur in the plot. Texts with a happy ending, like A and B below, have been found in New England (Phillips Barry, British Ballads from Maine, 438) and in Michigan (Evelyn E. Gardner and Geraldine J. Chickering, Ballad's and Songs of Southern Michigan, Ann Arbor, 1939, 150). They seem to derive from the printed versions that relate to the Boston broadside reproduction in Barry, op. cit., 424, although that text is not particularly close to any of the ones mentioned above.
The song is also frequently found containing material common with other ballads, such as "Glenlogie" (Child 238); "Barbara Allen" (Child 84); "The Death of Queen Jane" (Child 170); "Clerk Saunders" (Child 69); "The Unquiet Grave." (Child 78); "Sweet William's Ghost" (Child 77); and "Lord Thomas and Fair Annet" (Child 73). See Coffin, 159-61, for discussion and an American bibliography. Dean-Smith, 56, and Belden, 111, give English references. Laws, ABBB, 252-3, treats the entire tradition and includes a great many Anglo-American citations.
Sung by Asa Davis of Mitto Vermont, as learned from his father, Joel Davis, who was born in Duxbury, Vermont. M. Olney, Collector July 21, 1946
Pretty Sally
Some hundreds, some hundreds, some hundreds of years,
I courted a lady, a lady so fair;
She being a lady so lofty and high,
That upon this man she could scarce cast her eye.
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
"O Sally, O Sally, O Sally," said he,
"I'm sorry that your love and mine can't agree.
But I have no great doubt but my ruin you prove,
Except all your hatred being turned into love."
Lie-fel, a-liddle-Iary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-1ary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
"Oh, no, I don't hate you nor no other man,
But as for to love you is more than I can;
Now drop your intentions and end all discourse
For I'll never, never have you, excepting I'm forced."
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
Six months being over, a story we hear.
She went for this young man who she lov-ed so dear;
She sent for this young man whom she slighted before,
For her heart it was wounded and she knew not what for.
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-1ary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
She sent for this young man all to her bedside.
"Is the pain in your head, love; is the pain in your side?"
"Oh, no," says the lady, "the pain you ain't guessed
For the pain that torments me, love, lies in my breast."
Lie-f el, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-oday.
"Oh, am I your doctor?" this young man replied,
"Or am I that young man that you once denied?"
"Oh, you are the man that can kill or can cure
And without your assistance I'm ruined I'm sure."
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
"O Sally, O Sally, O Sally," said he,
"Oh, don't you remember how you slighted me?
When a question I'd ask you, you'd answer with scorn;
And now I'll reward you of things past and gone."
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
"Of things past and gone, love, I hope you'll forgive
And grant me some longer, some longer to live."
"I never'll forgive you which during my breath,
But I'll dance on your grave, love, when you lie under earth!"
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
"Farewell to my friends and farewell to my foes;
Farewell to this young man who caused my woes
I would freely forgive him although he won't me;
Ten thousand times over my follies I see."
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
"Farewell to my foes and farewell to my friends;
Farewell to this young man-God make him a man!"
Off from her fingers she took diamond rings three,
Saying, "Wear these for my sake, love, when you're dancing over me!"
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Lie-fel, a-liddle-lary,
Sing torrel-o-day.
"Cheer up, my pretty Sally, and married we'll be.
Then we'll live together in sweet u-ni-tee."
Come, all ye fair maidens, your sweethearts don't slight;
Come, all ye that are pretty girls, for I wish you good night.