The Two Brothers- Short (Mo.) 1890 Randolph B
[From Vance Randolph's Ozark Folksongs; 1946, Vol. I- British Ballads and Songs. Randolph's notes follow.
R. Matteson 2012, 2014]
10. THE TWO BROTHERS
The ballad of "The Two Brothers" was long ago reported and discussed by Child (English and Scottish Popular Ballads, 1882-1893, No. 49), and many American variants have been recovered. See Pound (American Ballads and Songs, 1922, p. 45), Tolman (JAFL 29, 1916, p. 158), Kittredge (JAFL 30, I9I7, p. 294), McGill (Folk-Songs of the Kentucky Mountains, 1917, p.54), Campbell and Sharp (English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians, 1917, No. 11), Cox (Folk-Songs of the South, 1925, p. 33), Davis (Traditional Ballads of Virginia, 1929, p. 146), Kirkland (Southern Folklore Quarterly 2, 1938, p. 65), Chappell (Folk-Songs of Roanoke and the Albemarle, L939, p. 17), Eddy (Ballads and Songs from Ohio, 1939, pp. 26-28), Linscott (Folk Songs of Old New England, 1939, p. 278), Treat (JAFL 52, 1939, p. 35), Belden (Ballads and Songs, 1940, pp. 33-34), Brewster (Ballads ond Songs of Indiana, 1940, pp. 55-57), and Morris (Southern Folklore Quarterly 8, 1944, p. 121). It appears also in the forthcoming Brown (North Carolina Folk-Lore Society) collection.
B. The Two Brothers. Sung by Mr. J. Will Short, Galena, Mo., Aug.15, 1941. Learned from his mother, near Marionville, Mo., about 1890.
One Monday morning a-going to school,
And in the evening a-coming home,
A-coming home to my parents dear,
My yellow hair for to comb.
Now brother dear, can you roll a stone
Or throw a ball?
No brother, I'm too little and young,
Pray brother, let me alone.
Now he drew a sword from his side
Which was all covered with gold,
And pierced it into his own brother's side,
From that the blood did flow.
Now brother dear, take your shirt off o' your back,
And rip it from gore to gore,
And tie up these bleeding wounds
So they will bleed no more.
Now he took his shirt all off o' his back,
And he ripped it from gore to gore,
And tied up those bleeding wounds
But still they bled the more.
Now brother dear, when you go home,
My mother will ask for me,
You may tell her I'm along with my little school mates,
So early I'll be home.
Now brother dear,
My father will ask for me,
You may tell him I'm a-lyin' in my grave cold,
My face he never shall see.
Now brother dear, take me all in your arms,
And carry me over to your church yard,
And lay me in my grave so low.
And bury my Bible all under my head,
My bow-and-arrow by my side,
My spelling-book all under my feet,
So soundly I may sleep.