The House Carpenter- Stevens (VA) 1936 Scarborough C

The House Carpenter- Stevens (VA) 1936 Scarborough C

[From Scarborough's A Song Catcher in the Southern Mountains, 1937. Scarborough died in 1936 and the book was already completed. Bronson dates the versions 1931; for now I'll leave them pre1936. Her notes follow.

R. Matteson 2013]

Scarborough: Leonard Stevens, of Council, Virginia, adds a few details, such as that the mythical king's daughter was named Jane, and that the house carpenter's wife dressed herself up elaborately for her elopement in a manner reminiscent of Fair Ellen's attire for the wedding of sweet William to her rival, the brown girl. But in general it is like the preceding versions.

(C) The House Carpenter- Leonard Stevens, of Council, Virginia, pre1936

Well met, well met, my old true love,
Well met, well met, cried he.
I've just returned from the salt, salty sea
And it's all for the sake of thee.

Why I could have married the king's daughter Jane,
I'm sure she'd have married me,
But I've forsaken the crown of gold
All for the sake of thee.

If you could have married the king's daughter Jane,
I'm sure you are to blame,
For I have married to a house carpenter,
And I'm sure he's a nice young man.

Leave off, leave off your house carpenter
And go along with me,
I'll take you to where the green grass grows
On the banks of the sweet Andee.

Then she picked up her tender little babe
And kissed it one, two, three;
Says, You stay here till your pappy comes home
And keep him company.

Then she dressed herself all neat and clean,
And she dressed herself in green,
She glittered and she shined as she walked the streets
And they took her to be some queen.

They sailed along for two long weeks,
I'm sure it was not three,
Till this young lady began to weep
And she wept most bitterly.

Do you weep for gold, said he?
Or do You weep for store?
Or do you weep for the house carpenter
That you left on the distant shore?

I do not weep for gold, said she,
I do not weep for store.
But how I, how I weep for my tender little babe
That I never shall see any more.

They sailed along for three long weeks,
I'm sure it was not four,
Till the ship struck a leak and it sunk in the deep
And it sunk to rise no more.