Darby’s Ram
Town Mascot of Derby, England
As I went down to Derby all on some summer’s day,
There I spied the biggest ram that was ever fed on hay.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
This old ram he had four feet when he placed them on the ground,
All four hooves he had must have measured a mile around.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
This ram had such long horns they reached up for the moon,
A preacher climbed up in January and never made ‘er down till June.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
The wool on this ram’s back reached up for the sky,
An eagle built her nest there for I heard the young’uns cry.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
The wool on this ram’s tail was so fine and thin
Took every woman in Darby’s town a week and a half to spin.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
This ram he had back teeth as hollow as a horn,
And every tooth in his head would hold a bushel of corn.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
The head on this ram’s neck was big as Noah’s Ark,
My dog ran up its nostril and turned around and barked.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
This ram he had great big balls that swung from side to side,
Sent every EWE (pronounced YO) in England a ‘scootin for a place to hide.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
They drove this ram from London, drove him with a stick,
And every gal in Derby’s Town paid a nickel to see his dick.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
This old ram had such a long tool, it drug upon the ground.
It dug a ditch six feet wide from London to Derby’s town.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
The man that slit this ram’s throat stood knee deep in blood.
The man that held the vessel got washed away in the flood.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
The blood it run like a river, for forty miles or more,
It turned the biggest grist mill that I’d ever seen before.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
(from Mrs. Margaret Jack Dodd, Beechgrove, VA; May 25, 1918; version C, stanza 9)
It took all the men in Derby Town to haul away his horns;
And all the ladies in Derby Town to roll away his bones.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
The man that owned this ram must have been independent rich.
The man that sung this song was a lying son of a ….gun.
To mah fah, to mah fah, diddle day.
The Daemon Lover
Well met, well met my old true love,
Well met, well met cried he,
For I’ve lately returned from the salt water sea,
And it’s all for the love of thee.
Said I could’ve married a king’s daughter, dear
I know she’d have marred me,
But I forsaken her silver and her gold
And it’s all for the love of thee.
If you could’ve married a king’s daughter, dear,
You’d better have married her,
For I’ve lately got married to a house-carpenter,
And I’m sure he’s a fine young man.
If you forsake your house-carpenter
And go along with me,
I will take you away where the grass grows green
On the banks of the sweet Da Lee.
O what have you got to maintain me?
O what have you got? Cried she;
O what have you got to maintain me on
While sailing on the sea?
I’ve got six vessels a’sailing on the sea,
Six more are docked at land,
Six hundred and sixty-six neat young men
All wait for your command.
O who will clothe my tender little babe,
And who will shoe his feet?
And who will sleep in his lily-white arms
While we are sailing on the sea?
Its papa will kiss his tender little cheek,
And also shoe his feet,
And also sleep in his lily-white arms
While we are sailing on the sea.
She picked up her tender little babe,
And give it kisses three.
Stay here, stay here, my tender little babe,
And keep your papa company.
She dressed herself as in a yellow rose,
Most glorious to behold,
And she walked the streets all round and about,
And shined like glittering gold.
They had not been one the sea two weeks,
I’m sure it was not three,
When she fell down on the deck of the ship
And wept most bitterly.
Are you weeping for your gold?
Or are you weeping for your store?
Or are you weeping for your house-carpenter
That you never shall see no more?
I’m neither weeping for my gold,
Nor weeping for my store,
I’m weeping for my tender little babe
I left a-sitting on the floor.
As she laid on the deck of that ship,
Still weeping so pitifully
She looked across the boards of that deck
And saw her lover’s cloven feet.
O take me back, O take me back
O take me back cried she.
For I’m too young and lovely by far,
To rot in the saltwater sea.
And if I had it’s all the gold
That ever crossed the sea,
So free would I give it to see land again
And my tender little babe with me.
If you had all the gold
You should give it all to me,
For you shall never see land anymore,
But stay here forever with me.
They had not been on the sea three weeks,
I’m sure it was not four,
There came a hole in the bottom of that ship
And it sank for to rise no more.
Don’t you see yon light cloud arising,
As light as any snow?
That’s the place that they call heaven
Where all righteous people go.
Don’t you see yon dark cloud arising
As dark as any crow?
That’s the place that they call Hell,
Where I and you must go.
My Dearest Dear
Mary Sands
aka Singing Mary
My dearest dear, the times draws near
When you and I must part;
And no one knows the inner grief
Of my poor aching heart.
Or what I suffered for your sake,
The one I love so dear.
I wish that I could go with you,
Or you might tarry here.
O my old mother’s hard to leave,
My father’s on my mind,
But for you sake I’ll go with you
And leave them all behind.
But for your sake I’ll go with you,
O mother, fare you well.
For fear I never see you more
While on this earth we dwell.
I wish your breast was made of glass,
All in it I’d behold;
Your name it secret I would write
In letters of bright gold.
Your name in secret I would write,
Pray believe in what I say,
You are the man that jI love best
Unto my dying day.
The blackest crow that ever flew
Would surely turn to white.
If ever I prove false to thee,
Bright day would turn to night.
Bright day would turn to night my love
The rocks would melt and run;
If I should ne’er return to thee,
The seas would rage and burn.
But when you’re on some distant shore,
Think on your absent friend,
And when the wind blows high and clear,
A line or two, pray send.
And when the wind blows high and clear,
Pray send it, love, to me,
That I may know by your own hand-write
How times has went with thee.
Awake, Awake
“The End of an Old Song” is a Folkways recording located at the Smithsonian Museum, Washington, D.C.
Awake, Awake you drowsy sleeper.
Awake, Awake it’s almost day.
How can you lay there a sleepin’ and slumberin’,
With your true lover a’goin away.
Say my love, go and ask your mother,
If you my bride, my bride can be.
If she says no, then I’ll have no other,
But I never more will bother thee.
It’s not I’ll go and ask my mother.,
For she lies on her bed at rest.
And in her hands she holds the paper
That speaks the most of my distress.
Say my love, then ask your father
If you my bride, my bride can be.
If he says no, then come and tell me,
And I never more will bother thee.
I will not go and ask my father,
For he lays on his bed at rest.
And in his hand he holds a pistol
To kill the man I love the best.
I’ll go down in some lonesome valley
And spend my weeks, my months, my years,
And I’ll eat nothing but green Willow,
And I’ll drink nothing but my tears.
Come back, come back she called her lover.
Come back, come back she cried to me,
And I’ll forsake both father and mother,
And away we’ll go just me and thee.
Soldier Traveling from the North
or
The Trooper and the Maid
Silver Bells…
Traditionally (in Scotland), it was Cockle Shells, not cock-shells…
Soldier traveling from the North,
While the moon shined bright and clearly.
The lady knew the gentleman’s horse
Because she loved him dearly.
She took him by the bridle reins,
She led him to the stable.
There’s hay and oats for your horse, my love
Go and feed him you are able.
She took him by his lily white hand,
She led him to the table.
There’s cake and wine for you my love,
Go eat and drink, your welcome.
She took off her blue silk gown,
And she laid it across the table.
He took off his uniform suit,
and he jumped in the bed with the lady.
O can’t you hear the horns, my love?
And I must go and find them.
O Soldier, dear, don’t leave me here
For I am ruined forever!
O When shall we meet again,
Or when shall we get married?
When cock-shells turn to silver bells,
O then, my love, we’ll marry.
Young Hunting
‘Young Hunting’ is a Child Ballad, no. 68
Come in, come in, my own true love,
And spend this night with me,
For I have a bed, it’s a very fine bed,
I’ll give it up for thee, thee
I’ll give it up for thee.
Hits I can’t come in, no I ain’t coming in
To spend this night with thee,
For I have a wife in the old country,
She awaits this night for me, me
She awaits this night for me.
Well, she drew out her little penknife,
Hit a bein’ both keen and sharp,
She stepped up to her own true love,
And she stabbed him through his heart,
Yes, she stabbed him through his heart.
Woe be, woe be Lady Margaret, he cried;
Woe be, woe be to thee,
For there weren’t no wife in the old Scotland,
That I loved any better than thee, thee
That I loved any better than thee.
Lie still, lie still my own true love,
For an hour or two or three,
And I will send for a doctor near
To save the life of thee, thee
To save the life of thee.
Hits I can’t live, no I ain’t going to live
From this wound you’ve dealt to me.
No doctor’s hand, only God’s own hand
Could save my life for me, me
Could save my life for me.
She called out to a servant maid,
“This thing I’ll promise thee,
If you’ll help me on this dark night,
My gown I’ll give to thee, thee
My gown I’ll give to thee.”
Well she picked up his long yellow hair,
The other picked up his feet.
They threw him in an old dry well,
Which was so cold and deep, deep,
Which was so cold and deep.
Lie there, lie there my own false love,
Till the flesh rots off of your bones,
And your little old wife in the old Scotland
Can mourn for your return,
Yes, she can mourn for your return.
Upspoke, upspoke a pretty little bird,
From within the willow tree,
There weren’t no wife in the old country
That he loved any better than thee, thee
That he loved any better than thee.
Fly down, fly down my pretty little bird
And perch upon my knee,
I’ll build for you a guilded cage,
Sure beats that willow tree, tree
Sure beats that willow tree.
I can’t fly down, no I ain’t flying down
To perch upon thy knee!
For you just murdered your old true love
The same you’d serve to me, yes
The same you’d serve to me.
Well I’ll go get my arrow and my bow,
My arrow and my string!
I’ll pierce you through your tender little heart,
You never more shall sing, no
You never more shall sing.
While you go get your arrow and your bow,
Your arrow and your string,
I’ll fly away on my two little wings,
Forevermore I’ll sing, yes
Forevermore I’ll sing.
Fine Sally
Doing our thing…spread out like a Sunday Wash! This is my house now, but this is also the house that Mother grew up in, the one I grew up in, and the one my son is growing up in. AND this is the same kitchen table my grandparents got sometime in the early 1950’s.
There was a rich lady from London she came
Fine Sally, Fine Sally, Fine Sally was her name
And she had more money than a king could possess
her wealth and her beauty was worth all the rest.
There was a poor doctor who lived near by
and twas on this young maid he casted his eye.
Controlled by her beauty, he held her most dear
He courted her truly one day plus one year.
One night as they pleasured, he fell to his knees
Crying, “Sally, O Sally won’t you marry me?”
She said “I don’t hate you Willie, nor no other man,
But to say that I love you is more than I can.”
He climbed on his horse and away he did speed
Saying, “Sally, O Sally, You’ll pay for this deed.
I’ll curse you Sally all the rest of my days,
I’ll never forgive you for your lying ways.”
Fine Sally took sick and she knowed not why
Her chambers all thought that she surely would die.
They fetched the young doctor for the want of a cure
For her pain and her misery could not be endured.
He come up to her room, to her bed he drew nigh
Her chambers they parted and moved to the side.
“Is that you, dear Willie? My sight it grows dim.
I fear for my present and my future seems grim.”
“Yes I am the doctor can cure or can kill
But to say I forgive you is more than I will!”
“Then damn your soul, Willie, you can be on your way
For to beg you for mercy is not in my sway!”
From off of her fingers she pulled diamond rings three,
Said, “Here is a token to remember poor me,
And as you dance on my grave, sir, shed naught tears for me
Just remember you'‘re dancing on Sally your queen!’
Lord Thomas and Fair Ellendar
Know what this is?! A tape cover from one of Mother’s first musical compilations. That is my brother Andrew on Granny Dell’s lap. Andrew is almost 40 years old now. So Mother was, like, 30 years old. Time it do fly!
“Mother, O Mother, come riddle my sport,
Come riddle it all in one.
Shall I marry Fair Ellendar,
Or bring the brown girl home,
Or bring the brown girl home?”
“The brown girl has both house and lands,
Fair Ellendar she has none,
So my advice would be for thee,
To bring the brown girl home,
To bring the brown girl home.”
He dressed himself in scarlet red,
and wore a cloak of green,
And every town that he rode through,
They took him to be some king,
They took him to be some king.
He rode up to Fair Ellendar’s gate,
He jingled at the ring,
And none was so proud as Fair Ellendar
To arise and bid him come in,
To arise and bid him come in.
“What news, what news, Lord Thomas,” she cried,
“What news do you bring to me?”
He said “I’ve come to invite you to my wedding day,
Twill be sad news for thee,
Twill be sad news for thee.”
“Mother, O Mother, come riddle my sport,
Come riddle it all in one,
Shall I go to Lord Thomas’ wedding
Or stay at home and mourn,
Or stay at home and mourn?”
“There will be many of your friends,
But many more of your foe,
So my advice would be for thee
To tarry this day at home,
To tarry this day at home.”
“There may be hundreds of my friends,
And thousands more of my foe,
But if it’s the last thing I ever do,
To Lord Thomas’ wedding I’ll go,
To Lord Thomas’ wedding I’ll go.”
She dressed herself scarlet red,
And wore a cloak of green,
And every town that she rode though,
They took her to be a queen,
They took her to be some queen.
She rode up to Lord Thomas’ gate,
She jingled at the ring,
And none was so proud as Lord Thomas himself,
To arise and bid her come in,
To arise and bid her come in.
He took her by the lily-white hand,
He led her across the hall,
He sat her down in a golden chair,
Amongst the ladies all,
Amongst the ladies all.
“Is this your bride, Lord Thomas?” she cried,
“I see that she is quite brown,
And you could have married the fairest maiden
That ever the sun shined on,
That ever the sun shined on.”
The brown girl had a little pin knife,
It a being both keen and sharp,
And betwixt the long rib and the short,
She pierced Fair Ellendar’s heart,
She pierced Fair Ellendar’s heart.
“O what is this,” Lord Thomas, he cried,
“I see that you’ve gone quite pale!
And you used to be the fairest maiden,
That ever the sun shined on,
That ever the sun shined on.”
“O are you blind, Lord Thomas,” she cried,
“Or can you not very well see?
O can’t you see my own heart’s blood
Come a trinkling down my knee,
Come a trinkling down my knee.”
He took the brown girl by the hand,
He led her across the hall,
He pulled out his sword and he cut off her head,
And he kicked it against the wall,
And he kicked it against the wall.
He placed his hilt upon the wall,
The point against his breast,
Said, “Here ends the story of three young lovers,
God take their souls to rest,
God take their souls to rest.”
“Mother, O Mother, go dig my grave,
Go dig it both wide and deep.
Bury Fair Ellendar in my arms,
But the brown girl at my feet,
But the brown girl at my feet.”
Pretty Saro
As we were discussing this song, I pulled this video up for Mother to listen to. She said, “Well, I don’t need to sing that’un for you given as you can hear the master himself sing it.”
When I first come to this country, in 18 and 49,
I a-spied many fair lovers, but I never saw mine.
I viewed all around me, but found I was quite alone,
And me a poor stranger and a long way from home.
Hit’s not this long journey, that I’m dreading to go,
Nor this country that I’m leaving for the debts that I owe.
Nothing so aggrieves me, nor troubles my mind,
As leaving my darling, Pretty Saro, behind.
Hits my true love she won’t have me and this I understand,
She wants a free holder but I have no land.
I cannot maintain her on silver nor gold,
Nor buy all of the fine things that my love’s house could hold.
Hit’s I wish I was a poet and could write some fine had,
I would write my love a letter that she might understand.
I would send it by the river where the water overflows,
And think on my Saro where ever I go.
Hit’s I wish I was a turtle dove, had wings and could fly.
Straight to my lover’s lodging this night I’d draw nigh.
And in her lily white arms, why I’d stay there all night,
And watch them little windows for the dawning of light.
Fare the well to old mother, fare the well to father, too.
I am going for to ramble this wide world all through.
And when I get weary, I’ll lay me down to cry,
And think on my Saro with a tear in my eye.
I’ve rambled over mountains, I’ve rambled over plains,
I strove to forget her but it was all in vain.
From the banks of the Ocoee, to the mount of say brow,
I once loved her dearly and I don’t hate her now.
The Cherry Tree Carol
Inez Chandler taught mother this haunting Christmas Ballad…which is a rare thing altogether!
When Joseph was an old, old man
And an old, old man was he
He courted Mary, sweet Virgin Mary
the Queen of Galilee.
Joseph and Mary they went walking
In an orchard so green
Where there were berries and their were cherries
As thick as could be seen.
Joseph and Mary they went walking
In an orchard so good
Where there were berries and there were cherries
As red as any blood.
Oh then bespoke sweet Mary
Mary so meek and so mild
Pick me one cherry, Pick me one berry
for I am with child.
Oh then bespoke old Joseph
In a voice that was unkind
Let him pick cherries, let him pick berries
That brought thee now with child.
Oh then bespoke the sweet baby
From within his mother’s womb
Bow down, bow down, thou tallest tree
That my mother might have one.
Then bow-est down the tallest tree
Right into sweet Mary’s hand
Oh see here Joseph, oh see now Joseph
I have cherries at command.
Oh then bespoke old Joseph
I have done Mary wrong
Fear not, Fear not, my dearest dear
And be thou not cast down.
So Joseph Married his sweet Mary
Mary so meek and so mild
And on that Christmas, that cold, cold Christmas
She delivered forth her child.
What will you name this child Mary
Mary so meek and so mild
I’ll name him Jesus, sweet baby Jesus
For he is the Christ Child.
Little Mathie Groves
Although this is not ‘our’ version of Little Mathie Groves, I still wanted to include this recording from Doc Watson.
Oh holiday, oh Holy day,
The first day of the year,
Little Mathie Groves to church did go,
Some Holy words to hear, hear,
Some Holy words to hear.
He spied some women dressed in black,
As they came into view,
Lord Daniel's wife was gaily clad,
The flower of the few, few,
The flower of the few.
She stepp-ed up to Little Mathie Groves
Her eyes cast on the ground
Said: Oh please, oh please come with me stay
As you pass through this town, town,
As you pass through this town.
Oh please, oh please come with me stay
I'll hide thee out of sight,
I'll pleasure you beyond compare,
And sleep with you all night, night
Sleep with you all night.
I can not stay, I dare not stay,
I fear it will cause my life;
'Cause I can tell by you finger rings,
You are Lord Daniel's wife, wife,
You are Lord Daniel's wife.
Lord Daniels in some distant land,
He’s left me for to roam,
He’s taken all his Merry Men,
And I am quite alone, ‘lone,
And I am quite alone.
But a little footy page was a’standing nearby,
Was a’hearing every word was said.
He swore before the sun went down,
Lord Daniel’ld know what’s said, said,
Lord Daniel’ld know what’s said.
He ran along the King’s Highway,
He swam against the tide,
And before the sun went down,
He was a’standing at Daniel’s side, side,
He was a’standing at Daniel’s side.
“What news, what news,” Lord Daniel Cried,
“What news do you bring to me?
My castles burned, my tenants wronged,
My wife with a ba-by, ba-BY,
My wife with a ba-by?”
No harm has come to your house or lands
While you have been away
But Little Mathie Groves is a hugging and a kissing
On your fair lady gay, gay,
On your fair lady gay.
If your words are not the truth,
Which I take them to be,
I will build a scaffold tower so high
And hang-ed your will be, be,
Hang-ed you will be.
If what I say is not the truth
And false as false can be,
You need not build a scaffold tower so high,
Just hang me from a tree, tree,
Just hang me from a tree.
Lord Daniel called his merry men
And bid them with him go,
But warned them not a word to speak,
And not a horn to blow, blow,
And not a horn to blow.
But riding with him merry men
Was one who’d wish no ill.
He popped his bugle to his lips
And blew it loud and shrill, shrill,
And blew it loud and shrill.
“O what is this?” Cried Little Mathey Groves
As he sat up in bed,
“I fear it is your husband’s men,
And I will soon be dead, dead,
And I will soon be dead.”
“O lay back down, Little Mathey Goves,
And keep my back from cold.
It’s nothing but my father’s men,
Calling their sheep to fold, fold,
Calling their sheep to fold.
Well Little Mathey Groves he laid back down,
And soon fell off to sleep,
When he awoke, Lord Daniel
Was a’standing at his bed feet, feet,
Was a’standing at his bed feet.
He said, “How do you like my snow-white pillow?
How do you like my sheet?
How do you like my pretty little woman
Who’s a’laying in your arms asleep, sleep,
A’laying in your arms asleep?
“Very well do I like your snow-white pillow,
Very well do I like your sheet,
Very well do I like your pretty little woman,
Who’s a’laying in my arms asleep, sleep,
A’laying in my arms asleep!”
“Get up, get up,” Lord Daniel cried,
“And put on your clothes!
In England it will never be said
I killed a naked man, man
That I killed a naked man!
“I can’t get up, I won’t get up,
For I feel ‘twill cost my life!
For you have got two bitter swords,
And I ain’t got a knife, knife,
And I ain’t got a knife.”
“It’s true I’ve got two bitter swords,
They cost me deep in purse,
But I will give to you the best of these,
And I will keep the worst, worst,
And I will keep the worst.”
The first swing that Little Mathey made
It hurt Lord Daniel sore.
The next swing that Lord Daniel made,
Little Mathey hit the floor, floor,
Little Mathey hit the floor.
“Get up, get up my pretty little wife,
And come and sit on my knee.
Now tell me which you like the best,
Little Mathey Groves or me, me
Little Mathey Groves or me?”
She looked up in Lord Daniel’s face
And saw his jutting chin,
Said, “I wouldn’t trade Little Mathey Groves
For you and all your kin, kin,
For you and all your kin.”
He took her by the lily-white hand,
He led her across the hall,
He pulled out his sword and cut off her head,
And he kicked it against the wall, wall
And he kicked it against the wall.
“Go dig me a grave both wide and deep
To bury these two in,
Just kick Little Mathey Groves over the side,
But lower my sweet wife in, in,
But lower my sweet wife in.