The Devil and the Farmer's Wife- Grover (ME) 1941
From: Child Ballads in the US Recorded Lomax- edited Bronson
THE FARMER'S CURST WIFE (Child No. 278)
B2 [(b) "The Devil and the Farmer's Wife." Sung by Mrs. Carrie Grover of Gorham, Maine, 1941. Recorded by Alan Lomax.]
This vigorous exemplar of the Sex War seems to have an equal appeal for both women and men --for women because it shows them equal to any occasion, and men, perhaps, because it proves they need not be ashamed of being worsted by odds which are, after all, insuperable. The moral of an Irish version, that women are worse than men because. when they're sent down to Hell they get sent back again is, to borrow Feste's words, "but a cheveril glove to a good wit: how quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!" A tale on the theme of a wife formidable to devils has traveled the wide world, from the Far East to the Far West, and from India in the South to Russia in the North. Mrs. Grover's version, with its whistling chorus, is much like a Sussex version of the mid-nineteenth century that was chosen by Child to stand at the head of his series.
1. Oh, the Devil he came to the farmer one day
(Whistle)
Saying you owe me a debt and I will 'a' my pay
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.
2. It is not your children or you that I crave
(Whistle)
But your old scolding wife and it's her I must have
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.
3. Oh, take her, oh take her, with all my heart
(Whistle)
And I hope you and she will never part
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.
4. So the Devil he mounted her onto his back
(Whistle)
And like a bold pedlar went carrying his pack
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.
5. Nine little devils were hanging in chains
(Whistle)
She up with a poker and knocked out their brains,
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.
6. She climbed on a stool for to make herself higher
(Whistle)
She threw round her left leg and knocked nine in the fire,
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.
7. Nine little blue devils peeped over the wall
(Whistle)
Oh, take her back, Dad, or she'll kill us all,
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.
8. So the Devil he mounted her onto his back
(Whistle)
And like a bold pedlar went carrying her back.
To my right fol-lol-fol-laddi-i-day.