West Countrie- High (MO-AR) c.1886 Wolf/Hunter
[Also titled, The Lady that Lived in the West Countrie. From Wolf Folk Song Collection, 1959; recording. Also collected by Irene Carlisle (Ozark Folksong Collection- 3 versions by High) and transcribed by Mary C. Parler Fred High of High, Arkansas March 20, 1951 Reel 106, Item 2. Also Max Hunter Cat. #0030 (MFH #672) - As sung by Fred High, High, Arkansas on February 12, 1958. High was aware of the May Kennedy McCord version (Randolph B).
Fred High of Berryville, Arkansas collected songs and in 1951 published Old, Old Folk Songs "in my 73rd year" so he was born in 1878. He learned this when he was a little boy (eight years old) in St. Louis. According to his book, it was sung, "by his papa."
I've used the Wolf Collection text but edited it slightly.
R. Matteson 2015]
THE LADY WHO LIVED IN THE WEST COUNTRY- Sung by: Fred High. Recorded in High, AR 8/26/59
(Mr. High: "I'm going to sing the first song that ever I learnt when I was a little boy. In St. Louis . . . it's taken well up there, and I'll sing it first.")
There was a lady, lived in the West Country,
And children, she had three.
She sent them away to the North Country,
For to learn the grammery.
They hadn't been gone but a very small while,
Scarcelie[1] twelve months and a day,
'Til death--oh, death--spread over the land
And swept those babes away.
"Is there no King in heaven," she cried,
"That used to wear a crown?
Pray send me home my three little babes
For tonight or in the morning soon."
It being near at Christmastime,
The nights so long and cold,
She seen--oh, seen--her three little babes
Come running home early in the morning soon.
She set the table right before them
And spread it with bread and wine.
Says, "Come--oh, come--my three little babes;
Come eat and drink of mine."
"We can't eat none of the bread, Mother,
Nor drink none of your wine,
For just before the break of day
Our savior we must jine [2]."
She made their beds in the back side room,
And spread it with clean sheets,
And on the top spread a golden cloth
For to make a better sleep.
"Rise you up, rise you up," says the oldest one,
"Rise you up, rise you up," says he,
"For yonder stands our Savior dear,
And Him we must obey.
"Green grass grows at our head, Mother,
Cold clods lie at our feet.
The tears you've shed for us, Mother,
Would-a wet our winding sheets."
1. scarcely (the 'y' is pronounced "i").
2. join