Crime story
Our gallant ship
*Oh, the stormy winds do blow
With the landlubbers down below,
And the sailor-men a-climbing to the top
To haul in the riggin’-o.
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“Twas Sunday night, our sails were set,
We hardly cleared the land-o,
When we spied a mermaid-a-swimmin’ by,
A comb and a glass in her hand-o.
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The captain plumbed with a lead and a line,
He plumbed for to reach the sand-o,
While the wind and the waves did toss and roar,
We knew we’d never see land-o.
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Then three times ’round went our gallant ship.
And three times more went she,
And the mate and the cabin boy said goodbye
As we sank in the salt, salt sea,
As we sank in the salt, salt sea.
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*Traditional ballad called “The Mermaid” was ccollected and compiled as No. 62 B by John Jacob Niles. Original musical arangement was composed for voice, concertina, clarinet, and guitar and performed by Sanford Ross Bender.
Tiny Drops of Rain
The Green Grave, or The Restless Dead*
The wind across the graveyard blew
With tiny drops of rain,
“I never had but one true love,
And she in the grave, one year hath lain,
And she in the grave hath lain.”
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He sat and grieved upon her grave
As many lovers may,
He sat and grieved and made a moan
A twelvemonth and a day,
A twelvemonth and a day.
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And when the grieving time was past,
The maiden’s ghost did say,
“Who sits a-weeping on my grave
A twelvemonth and a day,
A twelvemonth and a day?”
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“My lips are cold as coldest clay,
My breath is earthy strong,
Now you have kissed me once again,
Your days will not be long,
Your days will not be long.”
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*Traditional ballad compiled by John Jacob Niles (Niles No. 32 C).
Lovers’ Farewell
My lover did come ere evensong,
And he give me farewell,
But the wars that took him to the Low Country
He never a war did tell,
But the wars that took him to the Low Country
He never a war did tell.
Oh, he did go to the bloody wars,
His lance and his shield a-glisten,
While his lady did weep in her bowing-room,
And none was there to listen.
While his lady did weep in her bowing-room,
And none was there to listen.
Down fell he there, and there to die,
In the wet of the Low Country,
And no man knows that he lies there
But his horse and his hound and his lady Mary.
And no man knows that he lies there
But his horse and his hound and his lady Mary,
Oh, he may sleep in an open grave,
Where raven fly and flutter,
But I will wake on my pallet of grief,
And many a cry will utter.
But I will wake on my pallet of grief,
And many a cry will utter.
*Note: Ballad lyrics documented by John Jacob Niles (No. 17 A -traditional form of “The Three Ravens” (Francis James Child No. 26},
Don’t give up the fight, mates!
Soldier’s remorse
Spilt bacon blues
Carnival of bygone days
Sir Gaunie and the Witch
“Witching Creek” painted with watercolors by Sanford Ross Bender in May, 1982.
King Henry was a mighty man,
Who lived in Engeland,
No harm e’re fell on honest folk,
From out of Henry’s hand.
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Sir Gaunie was a noble knight,
Handsome for to see,
And he’s to marry with a witch,
To save King Henery.
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The witch from out the deep, green wood,
Told Henry what to say,
She told him that a woman always,
Wanted for her way.
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King Henry answered well and true.
He spake so bright, so gay
The Baron sadly hung his head.
And sadly rode away.
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Sir Gaunie was a noble knight,
And many a tear was shed,
The day he married with a witch,
And taken her to bed.
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‘Twas then she turned a princess fair,
And though they all did try,
No fairer one was ever seen,
With sight of human eye.
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The Soldier and the Lady
A soldier come from Georgia way,
Of ridin’ he was weary.
He tingled on the side-door ring
To hearken up his lady.
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She’s took him by the bridle line,
She’s led him to the stable.
“Here’s oats, here’s corn, here’s hay for your horse,
Let him eat what he is able.”
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She’s took him by the lily-white hand,
She’s led him to the table.
“Here’s cakes and wine for you, my dear,
Come eat what you are able.”
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She’s went to smooth his downy bed,
And she smoothed it like a lady,
And off she took her red, red dress,
Said, “Dearie, are you ready?”
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Off come his bugle soldier’s coat,
Off come his boots of leather,
And quickly into bed he jumped,
And there they lay together.
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He held her high, he held her low,
For hours one, two. and three,
When the bugle blew, she did fear so much
Did sound forth cruelly.
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“When shall we meet and marry, dear,
If you cannot tarry?”
“When cockle-shells turn silver bells,
‘Tis then that we shall marry.”
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