Waly, Waly versions
[This article dwarfs any previous research I've seen:
"The Water Is Wide" The History Of A "Folksong"
© Jürgen Kloss, October 2010/July 2012
http://www.justanothertune.com/html/wateriswide.html
Many of the notes here are from Kloss. just a place for me to put similar material.
See the excellent 1954 article: Some Notes on "O Waly Waly" by J. W. Allen --attached to this page
R. Matteson 2017]
Waly, Waly notes:
Sam Henry's Songs Of The People (Huntington 1990, p. 386) includes a complete song from 1928 called "Must I Go Bound" that opens with this verse but none of the others are in any way related to those known from the old broadside. In this case it has become the starting-point for a new song and has lost all connections to the original ballad. In 1954 American American Folk singer Susan Reed recorded a short song called "Must I Go Bound" for her 10-inch LP Old Airs From Ireland, Scotland and England (Elektra EKL 26).
Must I go bound and you go free,
Must I love a lad who doesn't love me,
Must I be born with a so little heart,
As to love a one would break my heart.
I put my finger into the bush,
To pluck a rose as fair as thyme,
The thorn it pierced me at a touch,
And so I left the rose behind.
Must I go bound and you go free,
Must I love a lad who doesn't love me,
Must I be born with a so little heart,
As to love a one would break my heart.
In fact this is a edited version of the two-verse fragment of "The Unfortunate Swain" collected by Herbert Hughes and published as "Must I Go Bound?" in his Irish Country Songs (Vol. 1, 1909, pp. 68-9). In Hughes' text the "childish part" was missing. Instead there was a rather strange line: "Was e'er I taught so poor a wit". Here it was replaced with another line of somehow dubious quality. In 1965 Buffy St. Marie recorded a much longer version of "Must I Go Bound" (at the moment available at YouTube) for her LP Many A Mile:
Must I go bound and you so free
Must I love one who doesn't love me
Must I be born with so little art
As to love a one would break my heart
I put my finger into the bush
I thought I'd find a lovely flower
The thorn it pierced me to a touch
And so I left the rose behind
I leaned my back up against some oak
I thought it was a trusty tree
But first it bended and then it broke
And so did my false love to me
Must I go bound and you so free
Must I love one who doesn't love me
Must I be born with so little art
As to love a one would break my heart
There is a ship that's sails the sea
It's loaded down as deep can be
But not so deep as the love I'm in
I know not there if I sink or swim
Oh love be gentle and love be kind
Gay as a jewel when first it is new
But love grows old and then grows cold
And fades away like the morning dew
Must I go bound and you so free
Must I love one who doesn't love me
Must I be born with so little art
As to love a one would break my heart.
This version has been supplemented with some verses from Pete Seeger's "The Water Is Wide". That means that the fragment collected by Mr. Hughes in Ireland was completed with some of the missing parts from just the right song. Both are derived from "The Unfortunate Swain" and both share one verse of the original broadside text as Seeger's edited version of Sharp's "Waly, Waly" still includes these lines:
I put my hand into some soft bush,
Thinking the sweetest flower to find.
I pricked my finger to the bone,
And left the sweetest flower alone .
"Must I Go Bound" is in fact "The Water Is Wide" with a different melody and a different lead verse: the one starting with "Must I go bound [...]". Both songs are modern variants of the same ancient broadside ballad with a little input from another old song-sheet. They have reached us on different transmission routes, but their trip was very similar: first was the broadside with scattered verses from older songs, then the "Folk" that stored these texts in their memory for a couple of decades, then the Folklore collectors who saved these verses from oblivion by writing them down and publishing their findings in books and then at last the Folk Revival singers who used them for new "old" songs
--------------
Allan Ramsay in the second volume of his immensely influential Tea-Table Miscellany. The exact publication date is not clear. The first volume had come out in 1724 (ESTC N045927). In the catalogue of the National Library of Scotland the second is dated as from 1726
O, waly waly upon the bank
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly waly yon Burn-side 3. Title page, Allan Ramsay, The Tea-Table Miscellany, Vol. 1, 11th edition, London 1750
Where I and my love wont to gae.
I leaned my back unto an Aik
I thought it was a trusty tree
But first it bow'd and syne it brak
Sae my true Love did lightly me.
O waly, waly, but love be bony
A little Time while it is new,
But when 'tis auld it waxeth cauld
And fades away like Morning Dew.
O wherefore should I busk my Head,
Or wherefore should I kame my Hair?
For my true Love has me forsook,
And says he'll never love me mair.
Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,
The Sheets shall ne'er be fyl'd by me,
St. Anton's Well shall be my drink,
Since my true love has forsaken me.
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves aff the tree?
O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?
For of my life I am weary.
'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
Nor blawing Snaw's Inclemenciy
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my Love's Heart grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgow Town,
We were a comely Sight to see;
My love was clad in black Velvet,
And I my sell in Cramasia.
But had I wist before I kiss'd
That Love had been sae ill to win,
I'd lock'd my Heart in a Case of Gold,
And pin'd it wi' a Silver Pin.
Oh, oh! if my young Babe were born,
And set upon the Nurse's Knee,
And I my sell were dead and gane,
For a Maid again I'll never be.
----------------
But "Oh Waly, Waly" also shares four verses with "Arthur's Seat Shall Be My Bed, or: Love in Despair". This "New Song much in Request" was apparently published circa 1701 (available at NLS: The Word On The Street; see also Child, p. 93 and p. 105, see also Allen, p. 167):
[...]
O Arthur's Seat shall be my Bed,
and the Sheets shall never be fil'd for me
St. Anthony's well shall be my Drink,
Since my, true Love's forsaken me.
[...]
It's not the Cold that makes me cry,
nor is't the Weet that wearies me:
Nor is't the Frost that freezes fell:
but I love a Lad, and I dare not tell.
[...]
Oh, oh! if my young Babe were born,
and set upon the Nurses Knee,
And I my self were dead and gone,
for a Maid again I'le never be.
Martinmass wind when wilt thou blow,
and blow the green leafs of the Tree,
O! gentle Death when wilt thou come,
for of my Life I am wearie.
http://digital.nls.uk/broadsides/broadside.cfm/id/14523
between 1701 and 1726
Arthur's-Seat Shall be my Bed, &c.
OR, Love in Despair
A New Song much in Request,
Sung with its own proper Tune.
Come lay me soft, and draw me near,
and lay thy white hand over me,
For I am starving in the cold,
and thou art bound to cover me;
O! cover me in my Distress,
and help me in my, Miserie,
For I do wake when I should sleep,
all for the love of my Dearie.
My Rents they are but very small
for to maintain my Love withall
But with my Labour and my Pain,
I will maintain my Love with them
O Arthur's Seat shall be my Bed,
and the Sheets shall never be fil'd for me
St. Anthony's well shall be my Drink,
Since my, true Love's forsaken me.
Should I be bound that may go free?
should I Love them that Loves not me?
I'le rather travel into Spain,
where I'le get love for love again;
And I'le cast off my Robs of Black;
and will put on the Robs of Blue?
And I will to some other Land,
till I see my Love will on me rue.
It's not the Cold that makes me cry,
nor is't the Weet that wearies me:
Nor is't the Frost that freezes fell:
but I love a Lad, and I dare not tell.
O Faith is gone, and Truth is past:
and my true Love's forsaken me,
If all be true that I hear say,
I'le mourn until the day I die.
Oh! if I had ne're been born,
than to have dy'd when I was young.
Then I had never wet my Cheeks,
for the Love of any Womans Son.
Oh, oh! if my young Babe were born,
and set upon the Nurses Knee,
And I my self were dead and gone,
for a Maid again I'le never be.
Martinmass wind when wilt thou blow,
and blow the green leafs of the Tree,
O! gentle Death when wilt thou come,
for of my Life I am wearie.
FINIS.
Mrs. Caroline Cox (1905, Karpeles 35A, p. 171; Sharp Ms.: CJS2/9/604 (text), CJS2/10/535 (tune) at The Full English Digital Archive; also in Allen, p. 163).
Down in the meadows the other day,
Gathering flowers both fine and gay,
Gathering flowers both red and blue,
I little thought what love can do.
I put my hand into the bush
Thinking the sweetest flower to find,
I pricked my finger to the bone
And leaved the sweetest flower alone.
I leaned my back against some oak
Thinking it was a trusty tree.
First he bended, then he broke
And so did my false love to me.
There is a ship sailing on the sea
But it's loaded so deep as deep can be,
But not so deep as in love I am,
I care not whether I sink or swim.
Since my love's dead and gone to rest
I'll think on her who I love best.
I've sewed her up in flannel strong,
Have another now she's dead and gone.
--------------------------------
I. A new Love Song.
II. Newcastle Ale.
A New Love SONG.
DOwn in yon Meadow fresh and gay,
Picking of Flowers the other Day,
Picking of Lillies red and blue:
I little thought what Love could do.
Where Love is planted there it grows,
It buds and blossoms much like a Rose;
It has a sweet and pleasant smell,
No Flower on earth can it excel.
Must I be bound, must she be free,
Must I love one that loves not me;
If I should act such a childish Part,
To love a Girl that would break my Heart.
If there are thousands, thousands in a Room
My Love she carries the brightest Bloom;
Sure she is some chosen one,
I will have her, or Ill have none.
I saw a Ship sailing on the Deep,
She saild as deep as she could swim;
But not so deep as in Love I am,
I care not whether it sink or swim.
I set my Back against an Oak,
I thought it was a trusty Tree,
But first it bent and then it broke,
So did my false Love to me.
I put my Hand into the Bush,
Thinking the sweetest Rose to find,
I prickd my Fingers to the Bone,
And left the sweetest Rose behind.
If Roses be such prickly Flowers,
They must be gatherd while theyre green,
And he that loves an unkind Lover,
Im sure he strives against the stream.
When my Love is dead and at an end,
Ill think of her whom I love best,
Ill rap her up Linning strong,
And think on her when shes dead and gone.