III

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme …
Unhappy Love

Let No Man Steal Your Thyme …
Unhappy Love

There are many types of unhappy relationships in life, but it is really only the uncomplicated ones which get discussed in traditional songs – fickle sweethearts, unequal marriages, love triangles and the workings of cruel fate – with little attempt to explore the depths of psychology or offer couples counselling. Some of the songs in Part IV concerning obstacles and tricks could be included here, but the simple distinguishing feature is that those usually have a happy ending while the songs in this section do not. Similarly, many of the songs included in Part VIII, concerning death, hinge on love-life problems.

It is interesting to note that neither sex has a monopoly on laments for lost love, and there are many songs from the man’s point of view as well as from the woman’s. ‘A Week Before Easter’ (No. 56), for example, while usually sung by a man, can easily be recast to suit a female singer, although ‘Susan, the Pride of Kildare’ (No. 54) cannot. Songs in which fate carries off the husband, such as ‘The Trees They Do Grow High’ (No. 55), can be balanced by ‘The Foggy Dew’ (No. 44), where it is the wife who dies. The only area on which women can make sole claim is sweethearts killed by enemy action (‘Bonny Light Horseman’, No. 41, and ‘Early, Early All in the Spring’, No. 43).

How a jilted or forsaken lover handles the rejection also varies considerably. Barbara Allen’s beau (No. 40), most famously, curls up and dies, while the young man in ‘Green Bushes’ (No. 45) takes a more pragmatic view of the situation. The girls in ‘A Brisk Young Sailor (No. 42) and ‘Rosemary Lane’ (No. 51), being left pregnant, have little choice, while others simply complain of their lot, lyrically and often in the symbolism of the natural world (‘If I Were a Blackbird’, No. 47, ‘The Seeds of Love’, No. 52, and ‘The Sprig of Thyme’, No. 53).

As indicated in Part V, the section on lust and bad living, marital infidelity is usually treated as funny in traditional songs, but what we would now call ‘love triangles’ are far from comic. The inability of ‘Lord Thomas’ (No. 48) to stick to one woman, for example, has dire consequences for all, although ‘Lord Bateman’ (Part II, No. 33) gets away with it.

There are many songs of unhappy marriages, not included here, in which one partner takes direct action or rejoices when the other dies; and it is usually the man who is hoping to get rid of a shrewish wife, the story often told in a humorous vein. Similarly, the theme of a young woman marrying an old man (‘An Old Man Once Courted Me’, No. 50) can be sung ruefully, or humorously, as the last verse indicates.

 

39
Banks of Sweet Primroses

As I walked out one midsummer’s morning

To a-view the fields and to take the air

Down by the banks of the sweet prim-e-roses

There I beheld a most lovelie fair.

Three long steps I stepped up to her

Not knowing her as she passed me by

I stepped up to her, thinking to view her

She appeared to me like some virtuous bride.

I said, ‘Fair maid where are you going

Or what’s the occasion of all your grief?

I’ll make you as happy as any lady

If you will grant me some small relief.’

‘Stand off, stand off, for you are deceitful

You’ve been a false and deceitful man

For it’s you that have caused my poor heart to wander

And to give me comfort it’s all in vain.’

I’ll go down into some lonesome valley

Where no man on earth shall me never find

Where the pretty little small birds shall change their voices

And every moment blow blusterous and wild.

Now all young men that go a-courting

Come pay attention to what I say

For there’s many a dark and a cloudy morning

Turns out to be a sunshiny day.

 

40
Barbara Allen

In Scotland I was born and bred

In London I was dwelling

I courted one a pretty maid

Her name was Barbara Allen, Allen

Her name was Barbara Allen.

I sent my servant to her town

To her town where she was dwelling

Saying, ‘Come unto my master’s house

If your name is Barbara Allen, Allen

If your name is Barbara Allen.’

How slowly I put on my things

And slowly I went to him

And when I came to his bedside

I said, ‘Young man, you’re a-dying, dying.’

I said, Young man, you’re a-dying.’

‘A dying man don’t say I am

When one kiss from you will cure me.’

‘One kiss from me you never shall have

While your false heart lie breaking, breaking

While your false heart lie a-breaking.’

‘Last Saturday night you know very well

Sweet ale that you were a-drinking

You drank your health to all was there

But not to Barbara Allen, Allen

But not to Barbara Allen.’

‘O mother, O mother, look at my bedside

There’s my gold watch all hanging

There’s my gold watch likewise my chain

Give it to Barbara Allen, Allen

Give it to Barbara Allen.’

‘As I was going across the fields

I heard the bells all tolling

And every time the bell did toll

Hard-hearted Barbara Allen, Allen

Hard-hearted Barbara Allen.’

‘O mother, O mother, go and make my bed

And make it long and narrow

For my true love he died today

And I will die tomorrow, morrow

And I will die tomorrow.’

‘O father, O father, go and dig my grave

And dig it deep and narrow

For my true love was buried today

And I’ll be buried tomorrow, morrow

And I’ll be buried tomorrow.’

 

41
Bonny Light Horseman

Ye maids, wives and widows, I pray give attention

Unto these few lines tho’ dismal to mention

I’m a maiden distracted, in the desert I’ll rove

To the gods I’ll complain for the loss of my love.

Chorus

Broken-hearted I’ll wander, broken-hearted I’ll wander

My bonny light horseman that was slain in the wars.

Had I wings of an eagle so quickly I’d fly

To the very spot where my true love did die

On his grave would I flutter my outstretched wings

And kiss his cold lips o’er and o’er again.

Two years and two months since he left England’s shore

My bonny light horseman that I did adore

O why was I born this sad day to see

When the drum beat to arms and did force him from me?

Not a lord, duke or earl could my love exceed

Not a more finer youth for his king e’er did bleed

When mounted on a horse he so gay did appear

And by all his regiment respected he were.

Like the dove that does mourn when it loseth its mate

Will I for my love till I die for his sake

No man on this earth my affection shall gain

A maid live and die for my love that was slain.

 

42
A Brisk Young Sailor

A brave young sailor courted me

He stole away my liberty

He stole my heart with a free goodwill

Although he’s false I love him still.

It’s once my apron did tie low

My love followed me through frost and snow

But now my apron is up to my chin

My love passes by and never looks in.

There is a seat on yonder hill

Where my false love is sitting still

He takes a strange girl on his knee

He kisses her and he frowns on me.

The reason is I’ll tell you for why

Because she’s got more gold than I

Her gold will wither, her beauty will blast

Poor girl she’ll come like me at last.

It’s down the green field I do go

Gathering flowers as they grow

I gather one of every kind

Until I gather my apron full.

I wish to God my baby was born

Sat smiling in his dada’s arms

And me poor girl rolled in cold clay

And green grass growing all over my grave.

 

43
Early, Early All in the Spring

Oh early, early all in the spring

My love was pressed to serve the King

The wind blew high and the wind blew low

And parted me and my young sailor boy.

‘O father, father, build me a boat

That on the ocean I may float

And every king’s ship as I pass by

I will enquire for my sailor boy.’

She had not sailed far across the deep

Before five king’s ships she chanced to meet

‘Come, jolly sailors, come tell me true

Does my love sail in along with you?’

‘What clothes does your true love wear?

What colour is your true love’s hair?’

‘A blue silk jacket, all bound with twine

His hair is not the colour of mine.’

‘Oh no, fair lady, your love’s not here

He has got drowned I greatly fear

For on yon ocean as we passed by

’Twas there we lost a young sailor boy.’

She wrung her hands and tore her hair

Like some lady in deep despair

Saying, ‘Happy, happy is the girl,’ she cried

‘Has got a true love down by her side.’

She sat her down and wrote a song

She wrote it wide, she wrote it long

At every line she shed a tear

And at every verse she said, ‘My dear.’

When her dear father came home that night

He call-ed for his heart’s delight

He went upstairs, the door he broke

He found her hanging by a rope.

He took a knife and cut her down

Within her bosom a note was found

And in this letter these words were wrote

‘Father, dear father, my heart is broke.’

‘Father, dear father, dig me a grave

Dig it wide and dig it deep

And in the middle put a lily-white dove

That the world may know I died for love.’

 

44
The Foggy Dew

When I was young and in my prime I followed the weaving trade

And the only harm that ever I done I courted a fair young maid

I courted her in summertime and in the winter too

And many the times I rolled that girl all over the foggy dew.

One night she came to my bedside as I lay fast asleep

She laid her head upon my bed and bitterly she did weep

She raved, she swore, she tore her hair, she cried, ‘What shall I do?

For tonight I’m resolved to sleep with you for fear of the foggy dew.’

Now all the first part of that night how we did sport and play

And all the second part of that night she in my arms did lay

And when broad daylight did appear, she cried, ‘I am undone.’

I said, ‘Hold your row, you foolish young girl, the foggy dew is gone.’

‘Now suppose that you should have a child ’twould make you laugh and smile

Suppose that you should have another ’twould make you think awhile

Suppose that you should have another, another, another one too

’Twould make you give over your foolish young ways and think of the foggy dew.’

One night she woke with moans and groans, I said, ‘What’s up with you?’

She said, ‘I should never have been this way if it hadn’t have been for you.’

I pulled my boots and trousers on, I got my neighbour too

But do what we would we could do her no good and she died in the foggy dew.

Now I am a bachelor I live with my son and we work at the weaving trade

And when I look into his eyes I think of that fair young maid

I think of her in summertime and in the winter too

And of the times I held her in my arms for fear of the foggy dew.

 

45
Green Bushes

When I was a-walking one morning in May

To hear the birds whistle and nightingales play

I heard a young damsel so sweetly sang she

‘Down by the green bushes where he thinks to meet me.’

‘I’ll buy you fine beavers and fine silken gowns

I’ll buy you fine petticoats flounced to the ground

If you prove loyal and constant to me

Forsake your own true love and marry with me.’

‘I want none of your beavers nor fine silken hose

For I ne’er was so poor as to marry for clothes

But I will prove loyal and constant to thee

Forsake my own true love and married we’ll be.’

‘Come let us be going, kind sir, if you please

Come let us be going from under these trees

For yonder is coming my true love I see

Down by the green bushes, when he thinks to meet me.’

But when he got there and found she was gone

He stood like some lambkin was left quite forlorn

‘She’s gone with some other and forsaken me

So adieu the green bushes for ever adieu.’

‘I’ll be like some schoolboy, spend my time in play

For I never was so foolishly deluded away

There’s no false-hearted woman shall serve me so more

So adieu the green bushes, it’s time to give o’er.’

 

46
Green Grow the Laurels

I once had a sweetheart but now I’ve got none

She’s gone and she’s left me alone all alone

She’s gone and she’s left me, contented I’ll be

For she loves another one better than me.

Chorus

Green grows the laurel and so does the yew

And it’s sorry I’ll be at the parting of you

But at our next meeting I hope you’ll prove true

And exchange your green laurels for the red, white and blue.

I wrote my love a letter in red rosy leaves

She wrote me one back that was twisted and twined

Saying, ‘Keep your love letters and I will keep mine

You can write to your true love and I’ll write to mine.’

I passed my love’s window both early and late

And the looks that she gave me my poor heart did ache

And the looks that she gave me ten thousand would kill

She’s the heart of an innocent, she’s the one I love still.

 

47
If I Were a Blackbird

I was once a poor maiden all lonely and sad

I once went a-courting a brave sailor lad

I courted him fondly by night and by day

And now like a sailor he’s gone far away.

Chorus

If I were a blackbird I’d whistle and sing

I’d follow the vessel my true love sailed in

And in the top rigging I’d there build my nest

And pillow my head on his lily-white breast.

My love he was handsome in every degree

His parents despised him because he loved me

But they can despise him and say what they will

While I’ve breath in my body I’ll love that lad still.

He promised to meet me at Bonnybrook Fair

With a bunch of blue ribbon to tie up my hair

With a bunch of blue ribbon he’d crown me with joy

While I’d kiss the lips of my own sailor boy.

 

48
Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor

Lord Thomas he was a bold forester

A-keeping of the king’s deer

Fair Elinor she was the fairest woman

Lord Thomas he loved her dear.

‘O riddle, O riddle, dear mother,’ he said

‘O riddle it both as one

Whether I shall marry fair Ellen or not

And leave the brown girl alone.’

‘The brown girl she’ve a-got houses and lands

Fair Ellen she’ve a-got none

Therefore I charge thee to my blessing

The brown girl bring safe to home.’

Lord Thomas he rode to fair Elinor’s gates

And loud he tirled at the pin

There was none so ready as fair Elinor

To let Lord Thomas in.

‘What news, what news, Lord Thomas?’ she said

‘What news hast thou brought unto me?’

‘I’m come to invite thee to my wedding

And that is bad news for thee.’

‘O God forbid, Lord Thomas,’ she said

‘That any such thing should be done

I thought to have been the bride myself

And you to have been the bridegroom.’

‘O mother, come riddle, come riddle to me

And riddle it all in one

Whether I be to go to Lord Thomas’s wedding

Or whether to stay at home.’

‘There’s thousands are your friends, daughter

There’s thousands are your foes

Betide your life, betide your death

To Lord Thomas’s wedding don’t go.’

‘There’s thousands are my friends, mother

There’s thousands are my foes

Betide my life or betide my death

To Lord Thomas’s wedding I go.’

She drest herself in her scarlet red

The merry maids drest in green

And every town that she rode through

They took her to be the queen.

She rode on to Lord Thomas’s door

So loud did she pull at the ring

None so ready as Lord Thomas

To let fair Elinor in.

‘Is this your bride?’ fair Elinor said

‘I think she looks wonderful brown

You may have had as fair a woman

As ever the sun shone on.’

‘Despite her not,’ Lord Thomas he said

‘Despite her not unto me

For I love your little finger

Better than her whole body.’

The brown girl had got a little penknife

Which was both keen and sharp

Between the long ribs and the short

She pierced to fair Elinor’s heart.

‘Oh what is the matter?’ Lord Thomas he said

‘I think you look wondrous wan

You used to have as fair a colour

As ever the sun shone on.’

‘Art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she says

‘Or canst thou not very well see?

Canst thou not see mine own heart’s blood

Come trickling down my knee?’

Lord Thomas he had a long sword by his side

As he walked through the hall

Off he cut the brown girl’s head

And dashed it against the wall.

Lord Thomas he had a long sword in his hall

He pointed it up to his heart

Was it ever so soon they met

Or ever so soon they did part?

‘Pray those that dig my grave

Dig it both wide and deep

And bury fair Elinor at my right hand

And the brown girl at my feet

That if ever my mother she do pass by

She may sit down and weep.’

They grew and grew to a red rosebud

For thousands to admire

They grew up to the chancel wall

And the brown girl to a brier.

 

49
Mowing the Barley

It’s of a lawyer as you shall hear

A-riding through the city

There he beheld a damsel fair

Most beautiful and pretty.

‘Where are you going, my fair pretty maid

Where are you going, my honey?’

‘To yonder meadow,’ she replied

‘My father’s there a-mowing.’

‘Shall I go with you, my fair pretty maid

Shall I go with you, my honey?’

She answered me right cheerfully

‘My father will be angry.’

Then quickly I tripped over the plain

And soon I overtook her

I whispered these kind words to her ears

‘A lady I will make you.’

‘And up to London you shall dwell

I’ll dress you like some lady

Fine silken gowns you shall have on

Fine ribbons, strings and laces.’

‘Besides I’ll give you money too

I’ll give you gold and silver

If you’ll consent to go with me

Unto the town of Dover.’

‘Then it’s keep your gold and silver too

And carry it where you’re going

There’s many a false young man like you

Has brought poor girls to ruin.’

‘I’d rather be a ploughman’s wife

Sit at my wheel a-spinning

Than I’d be a lawyer’s bride

Sit in some alehouse drinking.’

Come all young maids a warning take

In country, town or city

You never should listen to what a young man says

For a young man’s got no pity.

 

50
An Old Man Once Courted Me

An old man once courted me

I ding doorum down

An old man once courted me

I doorum down

An old man once courted me

Fain would he marry me

Maids, when you’re young

Never wed an old man.

Chorus

For they’ve got no falooral faliddle falooral

They’ve got no falooral faliddle all day

They’ve got no falooral, they’ve lost their ding doorum

So maids, when you’re young never wed an old man.

Now when we went to church

Hay ding doorum down

When we went to church

Hay doorum down

When we went to church

He left me in the lurch

Maids, when you’re young

Never wed an old man.

Now when we went to bed

Hay ding doorum down

When we went to bed

Hay doorum down

When we went to bed

He neither done nor said

Maids, when you’re young

Never wed an old man.

Now when he went to sleep

Hay ding doorum down

When he went to sleep

Hay doorum down

When he went to sleep

Out of bed I did creep

Into the arms of a jolly young man.

Last chorus

And I found his falooral faliddle falooral

I found his falooral faliddle all day

I found his faloorum, and he got my ding doorum

So maids, when you’re young never wed an old man.

 

51
Rosemary Lane

I once was in service down Rosemary Lane

I had a kind mistress and master the same

One day a young sailor came to our house to tea

And this was the commencement of my misery.

When supper was over he hung down his head

Then he asked for a candle to light him to bed

I gave him a candle as a maiden should do

But he vowed and declared that I should go too.

Early next morning when the young sailor rose

He threw in my apron two handful of gold

‘Oh take it, oh take it, for the wrong I have done

I have left you a daughter or else a fine son.’

‘If it be a daughter, she shall wait upon me

But if it’s a sonny, he shall cross the deep sea

He shall wear a blue jacket and his cap lined with gold

He shall cross the blue ocean like his young father bold.’

Now all you young lasses take a warning from me

Never trust a young sailor whoe’er he may be

They give you, they court you, they swear they’ll be true

But the very next moment they’ll bid you adieu.

Like a flower in the garden when its beauty’s all gone

So you see what I’ve come to through loving that one

No father, no mother, no friend in the world

So me and my baby to the workhouse must go.

 

52
The Seeds of Love

I sow-ed the seeds of love

For to last me all the spring

There was April, May and likewise June

When the small birds do sweetly sing.

My garden was well provided

With seeds of every kind

But I had not the liberty them for to choose

The flower that was on my mind.

My gardener was standing by

So I asked him to choose for me

He chose for me the violet, the lily and the pink

But I did refuse all three.

The reason I refused the lily

Was because it fades so soon

And the violet and the pink I over, overlooked

Then I vowed that I’d stop till June.

For in June there is the red rosebud

And that is the flower for me

But often have I snatched at the red rosebud

And have gained but a willow tree.

Oh the willow tree will twist

And the willow tree will twine

And I wish that I was in that young man’s arms

That stole away this heart of mine.

As my gardener was standing by

He bade me then beware

For that underneath the blossom of the red red rose

Lies a thorn that would wound and tear.

Then of hyssop I will take a spray

And no other flower I’ll touch

That all in the world may both see and say

That I’ve loved one flower too much.

So come all you pretty fair maids

That love for to chipper and to chase

The grass that is often trodden underfoot

In time will rise again.

 

53
The Sprig of Thyme

Come all you pretty fair maids

That are just in your prime

I would have you weed your garden clear

And let no one steal your thyme.

I once had a sprig of thyme

It prospered both night and day

By chance there came a false young man

And he stole my thyme away.

Thyme is the prettiest flower

That grows under the sun

It’s time that brings all things to an end

So now my thyme runs on.

But now my old thyme’s dead

I’ve got no room for any new

For in that place where my old thyme grew

Is changed to a running rue.

[But I’ll put a stop to that running rue

And plant a fair oak tree

Stand you up you fair oak tree

And do not wither and die.]

It’s very well drinking ale

And it’s very well drinking wine

But it’s far better sitting by a young man’s side

That has won this heart of mine.

 

54
Susan, the Pride of Kildare

When first from sea I landed I had a roving mind

Undaunted I rambled my true love to find

I met pretty Susan with her cheeks like a rose

And her bosom more fairer than the lily that blows.

Her keen eye did glitter like the bright stars by night

The robe she was wearing was costly and white

Her bare neck was shaded with her long raven hair

And they called her pretty Susan, the pride of Kildare.

Long time her I courted till I wasted my store

My love turned to hatred because I were poor

She said, ‘I love some other one whose fortune I’ll share’

And I’ll be gone from pretty Susan, the pride of Kildare.

As I roamed out one morning, being in the month of May

I met pretty Susan with her young lord so gay

And as I passed by them with my mind full of care

I sighed for pretty Susan, the pride of Kildare.

Then down to the seaside I resolv-ed to go

Bound down to East Indies, with my heart full of woe

There I spied fair ladies with their jewels so rare

But there’s none like pretty Susan, the pride of Kildare.

Now sometimes I’m jovial and sometimes I’m sad

Since my love she’s been courted by some other lad

Now since we’re at a distance no more I’ll despair

Here’s a blessing on my Susan, she’s the pride of Kildare.

 

55
The Trees They Do Grow High

The trees they do grow high and the leaves they do grow green

And many a cold winter’s night my love and I have seen

Of a cold winter’s night, my love, you and I alone have been

Whilst my bonny boy is young, he’s a-growing

Growing, growing

Whilst my bonny boy is young, he’s a-growing.

‘Oh father, dearest father, you’ve done to me much harm

You’ve tied me to a boy when you know he is too young.’

‘Oh daughter, dearest daughter, if you’ll wait a little while

A lady you shall be whilst he’s growing

Growing, growing

A lady you shall be whilst he’s growing.’

‘I’ll send your love to college all for a year or two

And then in the meantime he will do for you

I’ll buy him white ribbons, tie them round his bonny waist

To let the ladies know that he’s married

Married, married

To let the ladies know that he’s married.’

I went up to the college and I looked all over the wall

Saw four and twenty gentlemen playing at bat and ball

I call-ed for my own true love but they would not let him come

All because he was a young boy, and growing

Growing, growing

All because he was a young boy, and growing.

At the age of sixteen he was a married man

At the age of seventeen he was father to a son

At the age of eighteen the grass grew over him

Cruel death soon put an end to his growing

Growing, growing

Cruel death soon put an end to his growing.

And he shall have a shroud of the very best brown

And whilst in a-making the tears shall roll down

Saying, ‘Once I had a sweetheart but now I’ve never a one.’

So fare you well my own true, for ever ever more

Saying, ‘Once I had a sweetheart but now I’ve never a one.’

So fare you well my own true, for ever ever more.

And now my love is dead and in his grave doth lie

The green grass grows over him so very very high

I’ll sit and I’ll mourn his fate until the day I die

And I’ll watch all over his child whilst he’s growing

Growing, growing

And I’ll watch all over his child whilst he’s growing.

 

56
A Week Before Easter

’Twas a week before Easter, the days long and clear

So fine was the morning but keen blew the air

I went on the forest to gather wild flowers

But the forest didn’t yield none but roses.

The roses are red and the leaves they were green

All the brambles and briars so plain to be seen

The small birds were singing and changing their note

Amongst the wild beasts on the forest.

The first time I saw my love was to the church go

Oh the bride and the bridegroom, they cut a fine show

And I followed after with my heart full of woe

To see how my false love was guarding.

The first time I saw my love was in the church stand

With the ring on her finger and the glove in her hand

Thinks I to myself, ‘I might have been that man’

But I never once mentioned to have her.

The second time I saw my love we sat down to meat

Oh I sat down beside her but none could I eat

She thought her sweet company much better than mine

Although she was tied to some other.

The fourth time I saw my love she was all dressed up in white

Oh my eyes run half water quite dazzl-ed my sight

I picked up my hat and I wished her goodnight

There’s adieu to false lovers for ever.

Go and dig me a grave both long, narrow and deep

And strow it all over with the roses so sweet

So that I can lay down and take a long sleep

And that’s the right way to forget her.