
Fairytale
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.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“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.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
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.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
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.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
*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.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
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.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
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?”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“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.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
*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},





