The Ballad of the Demon Lover
by Phillips Barry
Modern Language Notes, Vol. 19, No. 8 (Dec., 1904), p. 238
[I'm adding the lyrics from the broadside (below), printed by H. De Marsan, New York that Barry mentions- no date is given. R. Matteson 2011]
THE BALLAD OF THE DEMON LOVER
A lost version of this ballad, recently recovered by me from a rare broadside, may now be added to the eight versions in Professor Child's collection (vol. III, p. 361). In his introduction Professor Child says: "An Americanized version of this ballad was printed not very long ago at Philadelphia, under the title of The House Carpenter. I have been able to secure only two stanzas, which were cited in Graham's Illustrated Magazine for September, 1858:
"I might have married the king's daughter, dear,"
" You might have married her," cried she,
"For I'm married to a house-carpenter,
And a fine young man is he."
"Oh dry up your tears, my own true love,
And cease your weeping," cried he,
"For soon you'll see your own happy home
On the banks of old Tennessee."
These stanzas correspond to stanzas 2 and 10 of the ballad as printed. The broadside, printed by H. De Marsan, New York, is to be found in a miscellaneous collection of American street songs and ballads in the possession of the American Antiquarian Society, at Worcester, Mass.
PHILLIPS BARRY.
Harvard University.
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The House Carpenter. H. De Marsan, Publisher, 60 Chatham Street, N. Y. [n. d.]
IMPRINT: New York, New York: H. De Marsan
LYRICS: The House Carpenter.
"Well met, well met, my own true love,
Well met, well met," cried he--
"For I've just returned from the Salt Sea,
All for the love of thee."
"I might have married the King's daughter, dear,"
"You might have married her," cried she,
"For I am married to a House Carpenter,
And a fine young man is he."
"If you will forsake your House Carpenter,
And go along with me,
I will take you where the grass grows high,
On the banks of old Tennessee."
"If I forsake my House Carpenter,
And go along with thee,
What have you got to keep me upon,
And keep me from misery."
Says he, "I've got six ships at sea,
All sailing to dry land,
One hundred and ten of your own countrymen,
Love, they shall be at your command."
She took her babe upon her knee,
And kissed it one, two, or three,
Saying, "Stay at home, my darling sweet babe,
And keep your father's company."
They had not sailed four weeks or more,
Four weeks or scarcely three,
When she thought of her darling sweet babe at home,
And she wept most bitterly.
Says he, "Are you weeping for gold, my love,
Or are you weeping for fear,
Or are you weeping for your House Carpenter,
That you left and followed me."
"I am not weeping for gold," she replied,
"Nor am I weeping for fear,
But I am weeping alone for my sweet little babe,
That I left with my House Carpenter."
"Oh, dry up your tears, my own true love,
And cease your weeping," cried he,
"For soon you'll see your own happy home,
On the banks of old Tennessee."
They had not sailed five weeks or more,
Five weeks or scarcely four,
When the ship struck a rock and sprung aleak,
And they were never seen any more.
A curse be on the sea-faring men,
Oh, cursed be their lives,
For while they are robbing the House Carpenter,
And coaxing away their wives.
H. DE MARSAN, Publisher,
60 Chatham Street, New-York.