September 5, 2005
Posted by Jim Macdonald at 12:50 PM * 402 comments
I have four children, two daughters and two sons. Naturally, I worry about their moral upbringing. As everyone knows who’s paying attention, “Just say no” doesn’t work. Instead, I made sure they were constantly exposed to the traditional folksongs and legends of Great Britain. Nothing’s more certain to give you a strong sense of the negative consequences of immoral or imprudent behavior.
Things I’ve learned from British folk ballads
Don’t ignore warnings. If someone tells you to beware of Long Lankin, friggin’ beware of him. If someone tells you not to go by Carterhaugh, stay away. Same goes for your mother asking you not to go out hunting on a particular day. Portents about weather, particularly when delivered by an old sailor who is not currently chatting up a country maid, are always worth heeding.
If someone says that he’s planning to kill you, believe him.
If someone says he’s going to die, believe him.
Avoid navigable waterways. Don’t let yourself be talked into going down by the wild rippling water, the wan water, the salt sea shore, the strand, the lowlands low, the Burning Thames, and any area where the grass grows green on the banks of some pool. Cliffs overlooking navigable waterways aren’t safe either.
Broom, as in the plant, should be given a wide berth.
Stay away from the greenwood side, too.
Avoid situations where the obvious rhyme-word is “maidenhead.”
If you look at the calendar and discover it’s May, stay home.
The flowing bowl is best quaffed at home. Don’t drink with strangers. Don’t drink alone. Don’t toss the cups or pass the jar about in bars where you haven’t arranged to keep a tab. Drinks of unusual or uncertain provenance should be viewed askance, especially if you’re offered them by charming members of the opposite sex. Finally, never get drunk and pass out in a bar called the “Cape Horn.”
Members of press gangs seldom tell the truth. Recruiting sergeants will fib to you shamelessly. They are not your friends, even if they’re buying the drinks. Especially when they’re buying the drinks.
If you’re drinking toasts, mention your One True Love early and often.
If you’re a young lady, dressing yourself in men’s array and joining the army or the navy has all sorts of comic possibilities, but you yourself aren’t going to find it too darned humorous at the time.
If you are an unmarried lady and have sex, you will get pregnant. No good will come of it.
If you are physically unable to get pregnant due to being male, the girl you had sex with will get pregnant. No good will come of it. You’ll either kill her, or she’ll kill herself, or her husband/brother/father/uncle/cousin will kill you both. In any case her Doleful Ghost will make sure everyone finds out. You will either get hanged, kill yourself, or be carried off bodily by Satan. Your last words will begin “Come all ye.”
Going to sea to avoid marrying your sweetie is an option, but if she hangs herself after your departure (and it’s even money that she’s going to) her Doleful Ghost will arrive on board your ship and the last three stanzas of your life will purely suck.
If you are a young gentleman who had sex it is possible the girl won’t get pregnant. In those rare instances you will either get Saint Cynthia’s Fire or the Great Pox instead. No good will have come of it.
New York Girls, like Liverpool Judies, like the ladies of Limehouse, Yarmouth, Portsmouth, Gosport, and/or Baltimore, know how to show sailors a good time, if by “good time” you mean losing all your money, your clothes, and your dignity. Note: All of these places are near navigable waterways. In practical terms this means that if you’re a sailor you’re screwed (and so are any young ladies you happen to meet). See also: Great Pox; Doleful Ghost.
If you are a young lady do not allow young men into your garden. Or let them steal your thyme. Or agree to handle their ramrods while they’re hunting the bonny brown hare. Cuckoo’s nests are right out. And never stand sae the back o’ yer dress is up agin the wa’ (for if ye do ye may safely say yer thing-a-ma-jig’s awa’).
Never let a stranger teach you a new game. No good will come of it.
Sharing a boyfriend with your sister is a bad plan.
Having more than one True Love at a time is a non-starter.
If you’re a brunette, give up.
Not that being a blonde will improve the odds much.
If your name is Janet, change it.
If you are a young lady and an amorous soldier, sailor, ploughboy, blacksmith, cavalry officer, or other young man fails to stop the first time you tell him he’s being too bold, knock off the maidenly protests and take more direct measures. If saying “no” the first time didn’t stop him, you’ve no reason to believe that twice will work any better.
Professions to be particularly wary of: clerks, salty sailors, serving maids, blacksmiths, highwaymen, gamblers, rank robbers, stonemasons, soldiers, tinkers, and millers. Anyone described as “jolly,” “bold,” or “saucy.” Supernatural creatures are best avoided. If they can’t be avoided, they should be addressed respectfully. If a supernatural creature sets you a task you’re well and truly screwed.
If you are a young lady and a soldier promises to “marry you in the morn,” it means he’s already married. And has kids. And he’s not going to marry you anyway. Even if you’re pregnant. Which you will be.
If you’re a young unmarried lady with child, and your pregnancy embarrasses or inconveniences someone else, consider yourself a sitting duck. Don’t meet with your young gentleman alone, or at odd hours, or in isolated locations, even if he says he’s taking you to be married. Next thing you know your Doleful Ghost will be telling your mother all about it. While he may say “Come all ye….” in the last stanza or two this will be small comfort.
Young ladies who feel uneasy should always act on their feelings. If in your good opinion you fear some young man (however handsome, rich, and well-spoken) is some rake, depend upon it: He’s a rake. Rakes will protest that you have them all wrong. They’ll be fibbing. Never go anywhere with a rake, particularly to isolated spots. See above: Doleful Ghost.
If you are a young lady and someone arrives to tell you that your boyfriend was slain on a foreign battlefield, take it with a grain of salt. Especially if you’re carrying a broken token.
If a former significant other turns up unexpectedly after a long absence, don’t throw yourself into his/her arms right away.
That goes double if they refuse to eat anything.
Triple if they turn up at night and want you to leave with them immediately.
Have nothing to do with former boyfriends who turn up and say it’s no big deal that you’re now married to someone else and have a child. If their intentions are legit, that’s got to be a problem. If it’s not a problem, their intentions are not legit.
You are justified in cherishing the direst suspicions of a suddenly and unexpectedly returned significant other who mentions a long journey, a far shore, or a narrow bed, or who’s oddly skittish about the imminent arrival of cockcrow.
If you are a young lady and you meet a young man who says his name is “Ramble Away,” don’t be surprised if, by the time you know you’re pregnant, it turns out he’s moved and left no forwarding address.
A fellow who’s a massively accomplished flirt hasn’t been spending his time sitting around waiting for his One True Love to come along. Furthermore, odds are poor that you’ll turn out to be his One True Love who will reform him.
If you arrange an assignation with your new sweetie, a little foot page will be listening in and will carry the news to exactly the last person you’d want to hear the story.
If your girlfriend insists that you go back to sleep after some odd sound woke you, it’s time to dive out the window and run for the hills right then.
If you’re hiding in the hills, don’t inform anyone exactly where you’re sleeping, particularly not an attractive member of the opposite sex.
If your girlfriend serves eels in eel broo, make sure you see her eat some first.
Informing your current significant other that you’re about to be wed to someone else is … risky. Even if you’re doing it as a joke, or to test their love. Especially if you’re doing it as a joke or to test their love. Testing someone’s love in general isn’t too bright.
Not even sending a talking goshawk to tell your significant other that the engagement is off will help you. You’re going to find yourself at the bottom of a well full fifty fathoms deep. A Doleful Ghost may get involved.
If, after you inform your current significant other that you’re to be wed to someone else, he or she suggests that the two of you meet in some lonely spot for one last fling, do not go.
Inviting your old flame to your wedding is a bad idea.
If your old flame invites you to his/her wedding, leave town.
If your old flame shows up uninvited at your wedding, start eyeing the exits. There’s a chance he/she is a Doleful Ghost. Be that as it may, no good will come of it.
If you’re out hunting, make sure of your sight picture before you pull the trigger/loose your bow. Especially so if you’re near a navigable waterway or the greenwoodside.
Do not allow the words “I wish” to pass your lips.
Avoid oaths, particularly when you’re near navigable waterways or the greenwoodside.
If the jailer indicates his willingness to take your gay gold ring to carry a message to your sweetheart, see if he’ll take that same gay gold ring to leave the door open and look the other way for five minutes while you or the sweetheart (as appropriate) escape.
Always use the buddy system. “Bare is brotherless back,” as Grettir the Strong put it; and if Grettir was worried about going places alone, you’d better worry too. So bring a friend with you. Friends keep bad things from happening. If things go badly anyway, you’ll need their help. And if things go well (hey, it could happen), it’ll be nice to have a friend along to share the laughs.
Moving to America for a minute:
Do not, for any reason, mess with a man’s Stetson hat or a man who is wearing a Stetson.
Pop quiz!
You are a beautiful young lady named Janet. On the first of May you meet a man in a patch of broom down by the greenwoodside. He invites you to his home on the far side of the sea, and earnestly entreats you to keep his invitation secret from your parents. The ship is leaving right away, this very night!
What should you do?
A) Woo hoo, sounds like fun! You’ll go, have a great time, and return home happy, healthy, and with some great gossip for your chums.
B) You blow loudly on a police whistle and run home as if jet-propelled. You tell mom and dad what just went down, put on a Stetson, and load your forty-four caliber revolver with silver bullets.
C) You decide that it would save everyone concerned a great deal of trouble if you skipped ahead a bit and hanged yourself right now. Your Doleful Ghost informs mom of the situation.
D) Rather than go with him you disguise yourself as a man and join the Army. Next time you’re marching through the Lowlands Low you seduce a beautiful young lady. She is so amazed to discover that she isn’t pregnant that she hangs herself. Her Doleful Ghost gets confused and drives the young man you met down by the greenwoodside mad. He delivers a long speech that begins “Come all ye wild and roving lads a warning take by me….”
Jim, you dog. I already had a migraine, and it's not improved by laughing my head off and holding my sides while tears stream from my eyes.
Too wonderful.
Anyone whose skin is green tinged should also be avoided. Not to mention amorous siblings. Or kingly fathers.
Elise desireth me to add that if you are a young lady, your brother is not on the Trusted List either. Especially if his name's Willie.
Also that if you murder somebody, even if you're really careful about it, your mother will find out. Doleful Ghosts may enter into it.
Jim, I urge caution. There is an odd class of folksong in which the main character is simply too stupid to die. Your children migh unknowingly follow his lead and quickly find themselves, in trouble with the law or AWOL from the military, roaming the mountains of Kilkenny.
If your name is Janet, change it.
But not to Margaret, or any diminutive thereof.
New York Girls, like Liverpool Judies, like the ladies of Limehouse, Yarmouth, Portsmouth, Gosport, and/or Baltimore, know how to show sailors a good time, if by “good time” you mean losing all your money, your clothes, and your dignity.
Well, now, it's a good time for the ladies in question.
Hilarious, Jim.
And let's not forget that it is very unwise to kill talking animals, even if their prophecies annoy you.
If you're an oldest son don't go questing. Let your baby brother go in your stead. It will save pain and anguish.
If you meet a hag sitting by the side of the road you'd better give her some bread.
Don't mock men (especially very short men) who have caught their beards in a tree.
I wrote a poem about these and other rules a couple of months ago.
Skipping to other realms for a moment, Cullen, my middle son, wanted to lend our copy of Sondheim's Assassins to a friend of his. I said we'd better get something in writing saying he wasn't planning to shoot anyone because you know how all violent crime comes from being exposed to the wrong sorts of entertainment and teenagers are particularly susceptible. Cul pointed out that Assassins is practically a primer on why you should never attempt to assassinate anyone.
Brilliant post. Thanks.
If you are a young man, and you should happen to jilt a young lady, especially a brunette, she will dance upon your grave.
Bank on it.
If she doesn't die by the waterside first, possibly murdered by the sister you were running around with on the side, whereupon [(a) her Doleful Ghost (b) a harp (flute, violin, slide trombone) made of her bones] will report the news to everyone and you'll be hauled off in irons.
Never stop for anyone whose hair is tied to the ground, or who otherwise appears beset by robbers.
Don't be surprised when your father presents you with your illicit love's heart in a box. You should have seen it coming.
Subparagraph V: Highwaymen and Hangings:
(see also subparagraph W: Robin Hood, Friar uck, Little John, Gamble Gold, et al.)
1) Don't roll about on the bank with mysterious dark-eyed women. They will steal your clothes while you are sleeping..
2) If you should happen to roll about on the bank with a mysterious dark-haired woman who doesn't steal your clothes, she'll expect you to keep her fine and gay, at which point you will have no choice but taking to robbery on the King's Highway.
3) If you do not get shot, you will be hanged.
4) Being hanged is preferable to being shipped off to Botany Bay.
5) Either way, you get a soliloquy.
(Look at me: I'm on deadline! Does it show?)
Sitting under trees should be done with great care. Avoid any hint of the greenwood. navigable waterways, etc. Even oak, ash, and thorn should be approached cautiously, as you are certainly not England. If your significant other is named Johnny you should most certainly not sit under the apple tree, as you are sure to be surprised by his arrival, his appearance, or both.
You should take care to avoid ornithological misconceptions, especially in the vicinity of cliffs, navigable waterways, etc.
Do not accept King George's pay.
Privateering is another bad career move.
Gallant airmen are of no use to anyone not involved in the supply of second-hand aviation spares, and the paperwork is a bitch.
Excellent post. And in case folks are interested in researching this further, Loomis House Press is reprinting the Child Ballads. They're up to Volume 3 with two more to come.
www.loomishousepress.com
Even if you can turn yourself into a bunch of different stuff, don't bother. It never helps.
And (from a different side of the matter), never hit your grandma with a shovel (it makes a bad impression on her mind), and don't put a slug in the slot machine (read 'vending machine').
I'm surprised at no mention of redheads, who should of course be avoided as they make the most Doleful Ghosts of all.
Innkeepers' daughters should also be avoided at all costs.
As for names, Mary is also Right Out.
And elf-knights and ladies dressed in green are to be avoided at all costs. Unless you can harp. And even then, experimentation is not recommended.
And totally avoid sleeping under trees, especially hawthorne. There has to be a handy Holiday Inn somewhere, right?
If your sister invites you on a hike, politely decline.
If you run into any knights of ghosts and shadows, invest in frequent flier miles.
Another rule: Never pull the trigger on yourself to warn your beloved. It won't save him, and even if it did, you won't be around to enjoy him anyway.
Even better: don't date highwaymen.
Paul, I'm in trouble, as my daughter's named Margaret and called Meg...
I have a warning or several taken by thee. And also, snickering.
But how do we account for the extremely positive outcomes of young married women who leave their house and lands and child and own wedded lords etc to bugger around in the wilds with unemployed gentlemen named David?
Note that "docks" rhymes with "pox" and be guided accordingly.
A young lady who "drops her knicks for half-a-crown" is unlikely to be true to you. While a Doleful Ghost is unlikely in this case, the clap is dead certain. (Public safety note: Some STDs are resistant to antibiotics.)
If you've already killed six of your girlfriends, it may be time to quit while you're ahead, rather than going for a seventh. Take up a different hobby.
If your girlfriend offers to louse you, don't take her up on it. You're better of with the lice.
If you take up a career in order to finance your whiskey and beer habit, be prepared to stick with it for many a year.
Beware of men with harps.
Supernatural creatures will seldom lie to you, but it's best to consider all the possible interpretations of their words. When you think of one that's particularly nasty, that's probably what they meant.
If you are a young cowboy, stay away from establishments called Rose's. You will end up shot in the breast, one way or another.
Actually, the Carterhaugh thing more or less worked out okay. In the end. The girl wound up pregnant, but as far as we know Tam hung around to help raise the kid and no one killed themselves.
So I've read most of the Child ballads, but can anyone recommend a solid recording of them (or of similarly authentic ballads)? Perhaps one relatively easily obtainable? Much obliged.
For the young gentleman: fair haired ladies on pony's of indeterminate origin offering you to join them in a ride through the aforementioned Woodside should be politely declined. Especially if they're gowns are several hundred years out of fashion.
And on the subject of rings: in general, they are bad news, especially if they be made of gold (bad X2 if said ring is attached to the finger of the above fair-haired lady). Rings made of toadstools? Right out.
Marna said:
But how do we account for the extremely positive outcomes of young married women who leave their house and lands and child and own wedded lords etc to bugger around in the wilds with unemployed gentlemen named David?
Actually, those often end badly, too, or at least they did before they were cleaned up by minstrels who thought it might be a good idea for pretty young unhappy married women to run off with people like them. At least, so says Doc Watson.
Avoid minstrels.
Authentic ballad recordings? Caedmon's Folksongs of Britain (ten volumes), 1961. Some have been reissued on CD by Rounder Records as part of the Alan Lomax collection.
If your sister invites you on a hike, politely decline.
I would appreciate a citation for this particular ballad. Anyone...?
I would appreciate a citation for this particular ballad. Anyone...?
O sister, sister come walk with me
Lay the bent to the bonnie broom
To see the ships sail on the sea
Fa la la la la la la la la la.
-- The Cruel Sister
This one includes navigable waterways, broom, being brunette, and sharing a boyfriend with your sister.
That young lady would have been better off dressing in man's array, changing her name to Bob and going to London.
If your husband asks whether you prefer your paramour to him, say no.
You can go poaching if you have a good dog in your keeping, but under no circumstances shoot a gamekeeper.
That "nosebleed" story isn't fooling anyone.
Thank you. My sister did in fact invite me on a hike just last night. I'm gonna have to think it over....
Your grey mare's blood was never so red. Just saying.
I may not recover.... Still ROFL here.
Never compliment anyone on his featherbed or sheets.
If she says her parents won't mind, they will. If she says her husband won't find out, he definitely will.
Mark D., you've no worries on that score unless you and your sister share One True Love.
If the Doleful Ghost of your True Love offers you one last kiss from his or her Cold Clay Lips, turn it down. Kissing a corpse is a surefire way to turn into one yourself.
Avoid handsome lads in brave tatterdemalion, carrying ancient swords all carved with legendary runes, who claim to the Lost Prince of Whatever, come to reclaim their rightful place.
Especially avoid them if they're telling the truth.
For, unless the current Highnesses have been beating the bushes seeking their lost lad, it's a good bet Their Highnesses won't be particularly pleased to see this one. Nor will they be pleased with his companions.
This one includes navigable waterways, broom, being brunette, and sharing a boyfriend with your sister.
That young lady would have been better off dressing in man's array, changing her name to Bob and going to London.
At which location you get the Doleful Ghost, I assume.
Oh.
My.
This is just TOO priceless.
Not sure about in a folksong, but certainly folklore...
If you are a young man a' wandering in the woods, and you come upon a beautiful young maiden smiling at you beguilingly from her cottage doorway, carefully check the following:
- Her hair is lustrous and shiny. Is there running water in this cottage? Is there evidence of shampoo, hairspray and conditioner?
- Her lips are glistening red, and her cheeks like rosy apples. Look out for cosmetics.
- Her gown is low cut and of shimmering silk. Is there an invitation to a ball on the mantelpiece?
- She smiles as if you are her One True Love. Be honest now, are you an amalgam of Brad Pitt, Orlando Bloom and George Clooney?
If any of the above seem suspicious, she's a witch, and you should run like hell. In fact, a gorgeous girl on her own in the woods is probably grounds for suspicion right off, but you never know...
The Old Door Well is always fifty fathoms deep.
If your boyfriend is a sailor, and his name is Henry (like almost all sailors), assume he'll be untrue to you. If his name is William, he's your One True Love, and you should be loyal and keep your half of the ring next to your heart.
Never ride a gray horse, especially if you're pursuing or being pursued. Brown horses are always faster.
Marna --
"...We all were wondrous bonnie oh
and this very night we all shall be hanged
for the stealing of the earl's lady-o"
Not that the Earl of Cassillis really hanged seven bonnie brothers and imprisoned his wife in a tower with the likeness of the their faces cut into the steps, you understand, but it makes a great folksong.
Oh, and if the lady is a remarkably attractive Jewess, run straight for the hills. It will turn out remarkably badly, with your line cursed until the tenth generation (if you are lucky).
Xopher, not at all. After all, it's well established that--
"Saddle for me my good grey mare: the brown horse is not speedy, oh!"
A good grey mare is always best. Unless it's so pale it can be described as a milk-white steed.
In which case, abort! abort! abort!
If your family name is Gordon or Graham you, personally, may well get hanged but the guy who ordered it will be wishing he hadn't by the last stanza.
I just found this while browsing. I think it's fantastic, but I must add one:
If your mother asks you to have dinner with her, DO IT, no matter how much you miss your girlfriend, and no matter how much you trust the swift feet of your coal black steed. Especially if your name is William.
Am laughing fit to burst.
Bragging about previous sexual exploits to current partners or likely prospects is almost never a good idea.
If he's not turned up, he's either dead or he doesn't love you any more. Probably both. Forget about him. If he turns up later, take his temperature before taking him to bed.
For goodness sake, if you're in love with the servant boy, do not tell your father. Just run off together.
If someone suggests that this would be a good time for a shag because their husband/wife/father/mother etc. is well clear, they are certainly going to turn up before the last verse. You'd better hope it's a long song.
Your parents are unlikely to be pleased.
It's not all bad though. For some reason, if your love is sent to the far ends of the earth as a punishment, if you follow him or her, you'll meet up again, despite the fact that the country is several thousand miles across. And this before mobile phones.
If you're a small child, consider very carefully whether you actually *want* your ball back.
More seriously, on reading the report of a rather gruesome murder a year or so ago, I was struck by how *exactly* like a Child ballad it seemed. (summary: young pregnant girl is walking home on Boxing Day when she falls in with a stranger, who tells her he won't do her any harm if she just walks with him for a while, takes her to a churchyard, rapes her and strangles her with the laces from her shoes 'because of the shame of what he's done').
"Saddle for me my good grey mare: the brown horse is not speedy, oh!"
Um, I heard "Saddle to me the bonnie brown steed/The grey was never so speedy!"
Blackjack Davy.
Before having sex with a young lady, be careful to ask her parents' names and place of residence, particularly if you haven't been home or seen your sister in a while.
Xopher--
Depends on who you listen to. ;-)
You also get "Saddle for me the good grey steed / the big horse is not speedy" and a bunch of other variants.
One thing about ballads. If the variant you're looking for doesn't exist when you started, it will when you're done.
Bluid-red steeds are also a lookout.
You know, all of these precepts will be made law if Bush has his way and puts John Roberts and Tony Barrand on the Supreme Court.
What?
Oh.
Never mind.
So, is this where the damn "Just Say No" thing gets its start?
Doesn't work any better now.
On the other cold white hand, the previously observed habit of harpers, pipers, and the Sackbut & Psaltery Five Minus Two to put a bit of wishful hinting in their lyrics should always be kept in mind-a-derry-down-oh.
If a marriage is arranged for you with a younger man (especially a delicate-looking school boy, however good looking), consider carefully whether you want to be a single mother within the year...
And if the bonny maid you meet on the heath has a sort of unearthly beauty, well, there's a reason for that. Bow politely and back away from the Queen of Faery and nobody will get hurt. You hope.
If you're returning home after a long absence, do not tumble the first pretty lass you meet. Trust me.
If your daughter tells you she'll die if she can't marry her true love, she's probably telling the truth, but chances are she's a spoiled brat anyway.
This is utterly brilliant.
My sister and I have contemplated a similar list, though a lot of the entries have been covered. A few more suggestions:
If a female monster or otherwise supernatural wants to sleep with you, you should probably let her. Unless she's beautiful. Then run away.
On the subject of names, being named Sweet William is probably a bad idea, too.
If you and your brothers are in dire financial straits, casting lots to determine who's going to take up piracy, while romantic, is ultimately impractical.
If a strange knight starts asking you about your family's livestock, remember to be as rude to him as possible.
If someone asks you to lower your topsail and brail up your mizzen, you should probably do so.
Never go into battle without donning the appropriate headgear. Especially if you've been dreaming about your own death.
When making toasts, do not under any circumstances omit Barbara Allen.
Officers in the Army are invariably cads. With the Navy, it's a tossup (as Xopher points out).
Watkin's Ale is not nearly as good as advertised. Stick with Newcastle.
If your fiancee confesses to having disguised as a highwayman to see if you'd hand over the ring she gave you, with the intention of shooting you if you'd done it, it might be a good idea to reconsider the entire relationship.
I'm reading the Oct/Nov Asimov's and Nisi Shawl has a story, "Cruel Sistah," which plays well on the old tune.
Do not leave your working tradesman husband and child for a prince with many ships. Especially if you can't swim.(Yes I can sing House Carpenter all 13 verses but I keep slipping into Gilligan's Island theme for the melody.)
"Polly" isn't good either, particularly if you wrap your apron about you and trudge through areas freqented by swans (or just trigger-happy swan-hunting lovers).
What's Polly short for? Hippolyta - could be, but there's at least one "real" name that's more mainstream.
Oddly enough, Polly is a nickname for Mary.
(I just looked it up. Mary=Molly=Polly)
If the knight with whom you happen to be having an affair with dies and you are close to term, mourn him well but don't carry him down to the lake and bury him. You'll die. Esp if he has a faithful hound and hawk guarding him in the green field when you find him.
If a strange knight starts asking you about your family's livestock, remember to be as rude to him as possible.
...now I'm curious. What's the story behind that one?
If you do have to kill someone, by all means don't bury them. Burn them. If you bury them, a tree will grow there, and it's quite likely that a bird or a Doleful Ghost or both will take up residence there and tell everyone what you did.
Ow. I think I sprained something laughing.
(One is tempted, just for the exercise, to fit as many of these as possible into a single ballad-form poem....)
And then I'm reminded of the New St. George song about the fact that sailors can't be trusted so girls should love one another.... Where does that fit in the scheme? (Besides navigable waterways....)
Melissa, as soon as I saw your post, I knew it was what was eluding me. Yup, Mary, or occasionally Margaret. I have a distant relation whose name was Margaret who was always called Molly. She did not die by apron misaprehension, though.
Fade, I'm taking that one to be False Knight on the Road.
"...
Who owns them sheep o'er there,
said the false knight on the road
They're mine and me father's
said the wee boy as he stood
How many will be mine
said the false knight on the road
those who live without a tail
said the wee boy as he stood
I wish you in yonder tree
said the false knight on the road
a ladder under me
said the wee boy as he stood
the ladder it will break
said the false knight on the road
and you will surely fall
said the wee boy as he stood.
...."
You should also change your name if you're a young lady named Jean or Darcy.
If it's a stormy night, stay home, no matter how worried you are about your love not surviving to dawn. If they do, you'll die. If they don't, you'll arrive too late to save them and then die on the way home.
If your fiance is a sailor named Jack, don't expect to see him again if he ever puts out to sea.
If you meet a woman on the road wearing a black veil, do not ask to see what's under it.
Resist the urge to follow strange lights off the road. No good will come of it.
Avoid crossroads if at all possible.
If your True Love gives you a token, guard it with your life. Especially from attractive members of the opposite sex.
If a beautiful stranger offers you apples, grapes, or berries of any kind, politely decline, no matter how famished you are nor how good the fruit looks.
If you are a young handsome sailor aboard a ship or walking down by the seaside, earplugs are a good idea.
If you are a young lady, do not give your hair ribbon to anyone except your own True Love, and make sure you're his own True Love before you do.
If you encounter a stranger crying on the side of the road, do not stop to ask what's wrong unless you're really, really bored and have a lot of frequent flier miles to use up.
If someone says they've had a portent of your death, best make sure your will is in order.
If your True Love is taken away to be hanged and shows up the next night looking unusually pale, bolt the door and call for a priest.
Sleeping on the grave of your True Love might indeed bring them back, but not in any condition you'll find appealing.
If a stranger challenges you to a fiddle contest, only say yes if you're in a mountainous region of the United States. Otherwise, politely decline and flatter the hell out of the stranger until you can run away.
Never toss away herbs or twigs given to you by any woman over forty.
If you are a young handsome sailor aboard a ship or walking down by the seaside, earplugs are a good idea.
Better yet, an iPod-- loaded with British folk ballads.
If she invites you to court her in the kitchen, what with the Captain being out fishing, countersuggest that she let you take her out for a beer instead.
And, as a rule, your mother is always right.
While from over here, we learn that stealing sheep, riding bulls through the streets, and trying to beat cunning old men at shearing contests is bound to end in tears. Also that landladies, no matter what their demeanour, do not have hearts of gold.
A wonderful post, Mr Macdonald.
Fade, I'm taking that one to be False Knight on the Road.
Got it in one. :)
Another rule: Never pull the trigger on yourself to warn your beloved. It won't save him, and even if it did, you won't be around to enjoy him anyway.
Ah, I knew someone would beat me to it. That one has been bugging me for a long time. What a git he was.
If your name is Janet, change it.
However, if your name happens to be Jack or Kate, have no fear. Stay good-natured and it will all work out all right in the end.
Sarah: Not complete Child Ballads collections, by any means, but you might want to try the "Carthy Chronicles" set (one volume, "Child: Carthy", is all Child Ballads) and, as somebody above suggested, anything by John Roberts & Tony Barrand (I think "Dark Ships in the Forest" is all Child; if not, it's all similar and done traditional-style).
If a stranger challenges you to a fiddle contest, only say yes if you're in a mountainous region of the United States. Otherwise, politely decline and flatter the hell out of the stranger until you can run away.
Actually, the Canadian Idol, Kalen Porter, pulled it off damn well too.
And then I'm reminded of the New St. George song about the fact that sailors can't be trusted so girls should love one another.... Where does that fit in the scheme? (Besides navigable waterways....)
Which one is that?
Same goes for your mother asking you not to go out hunting on a particular day. Portents about weather, particularly when delivered by an old sailor who is not currently chatting up a country maid, are always worth heeding.
Does this mean "Bad Moon Rising" by CCR is actually an English folk ballad?
Do not, for any reason, mess with a man’s Stetson hat or a man who is wearing a Stetson.
Is tugging on Superman's cape or spitting into the wind OK?
New York Girls, like Liverpool Judies, like the ladies of Limehouse, Yarmouth, Portsmouth, Gosport, and/or Baltimore, know how to show sailors a good time, if by “good time” you mean losing all your money, your clothes, and your dignity.
but you'll never find the good restaurants without us.
US folk songs:
Definitely don't change your name to Polly.
Don't be the child, girlfriend, friend, acquaintance, drinking buddy, or in any relationship whatsoever to a gambler. If you *are* a gambler, you might live, but I wouldn't count on it.
Do what your Mama tells you. If you don't, you'll be sorry. Also dead.
If you're in an American folk song, you're going to die anyway...by murder, mishap, for love, or because you tried to out-hammer a machine. Even if you're a gambler, chances are someone will shoot you because you cheated or your girlfriend will bust in and shoot you because you done her wrong. Remember how your Mama told you not to be a gambler? You should have listened.
Go tell your baby sister (brother, son, daughter) not to do what you have done.
If you do have to kill someone, by all means don't bury them. Burn them. If you bury them, a tree will grow there, and it's quite likely that a bird or a Doleful Ghost or both will take up residence there and tell everyone what you did.
And if you don't have any tinder, dig a deep hole; don't just leave the corpse lying around, because some pervert will turn pieces of the skeleton into an instrument that will peach on you.
And then I'm reminded of the New St. George song about the fact that sailors can't be trusted so girls should love one another....
Which one is that?
Some versions of "The Blacksmith" (aka "A Blacksmith Courted Me") have that line.
There is no trust in men
Not my own brother
So girls if you would love,
Love one another.
I don't know if that's the one NSG do (although I do know that there are two folk bands called The New Saint George, one in the D.C. area and one in the U.K.).
Other American lessons: never marry a railroad man ("will kill you if he can and drink of your blood like wine") or a schoolteacher ("blows her nose in old cornbread and calls it pumpkin pie").
Avoid situations where the obvious rhyme-word is “maidenhead.”
I never liked Rogers anyway.
Boom-boom!
(Explanation for them as needs it.)
Other American lessons: never marry a railroad man
But if you must marry a railroad man, never speak harsh words to your true lovin' husband, as he may leave you and never return. Probably in a firey crash.
Further caveats:
If you meet the devil or a knight on the road, make sure you have a small child with you to do the talking.
If someone offers you the better sword, run, don't stay and fight. After all, you've already slept with the fair lady, and she's married.
If your daughter's true love dies and she takes to her bed, arrange to have them both buried in your garden. If you like roses and briars.
Do not date nearsighted men who like guns.
Joe Bethencourt wrote a wonderful primer on this sort of thing that's recorded on his album Naked Banjos. The song is called Silver Dagger and it's an object lesson in why you should just run off with your sweetie.
Two instances of what happens when you combine ballads.
Condensed ballads. (See the index or do a search for Child Ballads on the page.)
Do, with your dying breath, make sure your wife will name your son Sue.
OK, I remembered too late that the father didn't actually die, he just ran off, the lout.
I do think it's a bit unfair to say that all well-conducted men who want to be your friends are rakes; quite often they're the devil carrying you off to hell for disobeying your mother.
And if you're anywhere in the Appalachians, never let anybody give you a silver dagger. If anybody in your vicinity owns a silver dagger, run away immediately and don't stop before you've reached Kansas.
If you want to keep your shoes clean, it's a better idea to get a pair of galoshes than to stand on a loaf of bread.
Don't forget Never invite the supernatural in by name.
Yet more folksong abuse: Lord Randall in Laredo.
ROFL.
And if you're Lord Randall in Laredo, don't sit with your back to a door, especially if you have a one-eyed jack in your hand.
The bathetic fallacy isn't.
Does this mean "Bad Moon Rising" by CCR is actually an English folk ballad?
The Battlefield Band does it as a bagpipe reel. It works amazingly well, assuming that you belong to that segment of the population that enjoys bagpipe music. (If you aren't part of that segment, no piping in the world is going to please you, so don't bother.)
Speaking of Joe Bethancourt, and getting back to fantasy and science fiction, he's done an album of songs from Who Fears the Devil by Manly Wade Wellman.
Silver John is a character who had learned and lived by Lessons We Can Learn from Ballads.
Y'know what I'd like to see? Silver John vs. the Blair Witch in a steel-cage grudge match.
If you leave your sweetheart back at port to marry a mermaid, remember that she's a fish from the waist down.
At least you won't get her pregnant or get the pox.
James Macdonald:
Bless you. I *so* needed something light and frivolous after catching up on a weekend's worth of New Orleans news and blogging, and my deep fondness for traditional ballads - I managed the feat of singing one where nobody dies or chooses the wrong sexual partner just yesterday - made this *the* antidote.
(I was at first tempted to ask if I might kiss you for posting this, but doing so to a married man would seem rather out of keeping with the tenor of the very advice proferred. Also with the soprano, alto and bass.)
In short,
"My thing is my own, and I'll keep it so still,
Though other young maidens may do what they will;
yes, my thing is my own and I'll keep it so still,
Until I am married; let men say what they will."
More American cautions:
Make sure no one is watching when you throw something off the Tallahatchie Bridge.
If the civilization on the other mountain is willing to give you something for free, for the love of Mike, don't raise an army over it.
If you must frame someone for a murder, be sure his sister isn't a crack shot.
And another American one (bursting out from between fits of giggles):
Never walk into a swell affair and order one fish ball. Not only will you not get bread, but the waiter will humiliate you very loudly, and the only fix for that will be going outside and shooting yourself.
In Italian restaurants, do not sneeze or allow another to do so.
If you're out for a walk or at a party and start to feel unusually tired go home before taking a nap. Do not stop even if your true love offers the use of his or her house. One will lead to your death and the other to your sleeping for 100 years. Your own bed is worth the wait.
If you're building an ark, it's worth paying three 'a'pence a foot for timber.
If your son is called Albert, don't take him to the zoo.
So, based on above discussion and taking into account all relevant submissions received before the deadline:
Assessing the speed of a horse by colour is unreliable. Always verify the creature's performance using an industry standard benchmark.
If the captain offers you gold and silver to sink the enemy ship then it might be worth going for it, but if he offers you the hand of his daughter then tell him to sink it himself.
Not from a ballad, but pertinent nonetheless.
If anyone prophesies your demise thrice, each time describing a different modus operandi, don't assume they've got it wrong. Expect a very long, complicated death.
Spending even the smallest modicum of time in a valley/city/cottage that you could have sworn wasn't there before will result in you finally emerging to discover that a century has passed and your One True Love not only married your brother but is also now dead anyway. You'll end up fighting your nephew for the throne. Doleful Ghosts will be involved.
If you are a croppy boy, and you decide to go to confession, first check under the priest's cassock carefully for signs of a scarlet uniform.
If you leave your sweetheart back at port to marry a mermaid, remember that she's a fish from the waist down.
I went down to the Norfolk harbor
That's where my baby lay,
She was stretched out on some ice and lemons
And her gills were turning gray.
Throw her back, throw her back, god bless her
She won't come back to me
In a better world than this my baby's swimmin' around
Ceramic castles in the deep blue sea
Now when I die, throw me in the ocean
Tuck a lure in my Stetson crown,
Put some solid gold sinkers on my watch and chain
So the water will ease me down
Now some men's loves turn fickle
And some men's loves lie bleedin'
But it wasn't hate nor jealousy that left me alone
It was another case of overfeedin'.
Thank you for the sage advice. I shall take it to heed and more importantly make sure my two young lads do. (especially the bits about docks and pox et al.)
(Thanks for the laugh - I thought it was brilliant. I had to cut and paste it into a word doc, with your attribution of course, so that I could show it off at random moments. These days a laugh is even more appreciated!)
Make sure you've got all the details about what conditions will allow or require your bride to return to her family of origin. Be especially careful about time limits; it's going to suck if you only had to wait 72 more hours.
If your daughter's true love dies and she takes to her bed, arrange to have them both buried in your garden. If you like roses and briars.
"So at last their souls entwine
As one forever climbing
Ten out of ten for true, true love
Nought out of ten for timing."
"Maybe Then I'll Be A Rose" by Les Barker and Savourna Stevenson, a ballad about learning from ballads. The same album (Singing the Storm) contains another important less: don't almost kill the most powerful wizard in Scotland.
As well as avoiding broom, it's best to stay out of all pricklie bushes.
If engaged in a robbery, never leave your getaway vehicle unattended.
In America: If he's your man, he's doin' you wrong.
Do not fall in love with tinker lads, gyspy lads, roving journeymen, ploughmen or soldier laddies, however for some reason collier laddies are OK.
The grass it being cut down is not a good enough reason to roll in it - your mother WILL chance to notice how you've thickened around the waist.
If you meet young lassies on the road to Dundee and they ask you to show them the way, just say no - you will end up forty years later singing songs about it to bored young men in bars. If you must insist on showing them the way at least have the gumption to ask their bloody name.
Young women coming downstairs with long yellow hair will break your heart - you will die and your fellow soliders will get drunk and sing songs about you in bars.
Do not sell your fiddle, no matter how desperate you are for a pint.
Drinking will not make you forget your lost love (or your fiddle), it will just cause you to sing songs about her in bars.
Avoid bars.
If intending to marry your love it is imperative to ask her brother's permission first unless you want a lot of blood and tears on the wedding day.
Do not insist on betrothing a beautiful woman to the young laird if she is in love with someone else, she will either elope on the wedding day or drop dead in the bridal chamber - neither is a good start to married life.
Just keep a bloody good hold on her - whatever you do, don't let her start moving through the fair.
Don't go leaving your baby lying around - no amount of blaeberries are worth the trouble of explaining to your husband that the fairies appear to have stolen your child.
If the women are weeping it's probably not a good sign.
If you go off to war to fight for bonnie princes you will come back to find your wife, children and goods in the snow and your houses burning.
In fact, just say no to Bonnie Prince Charlie - it'll all end in tears and men wearing women's clothing.
Tim:
Addenda: be kind to cabin boys. Especially when they have drills.
Mr. Ford: That's beautiful. Just beautiful. It brought a tear to my eye...
Good manners are better than gold.
Secrets don't stay secret.
Never dance with strangers.
If someone offers you a deal you don't understand, say no.
Never let yourself get caught in the other guy's metaphor.
Talking animals, aged sailors, and wee lads are always right.
Don't entangle yourself in the affairs of supernatural creatures unless you're prepared to accept a random life-altering outcome.
It's better to be embarrassed than dead. For example, if you're a lousy sea captain, you should turn down the king's offer of command of his new ship.
It's better to arrive late than not arrive at all. If the storm rages, the night's dark, or the river's in flood, turn back and try again tomorrow.
Never vow to perform some deed in spite of danger, death, the devil, the cost, however long it takes, or any other impediment.
Arguably, the only safe wish is, "I wish to be a good and virtuous person, and go to heaven when I die."
Further:
If you are a comely young lady, consider preparing some small fragrant sachets labeled all, thing-a-ma-jig, virtue, and other related terms. Carry these in your pocket. Name your horse "Ring Dang Doo." Cultivate the ability to tell outrageous and entertaining fibs at length. By these means, if some villain compels you to surrender your all, your virtue, or your thing-a-ma-jig, or to let him ride on your Ring Dang Doo, or to lie with him all night, you may be able to make it home unscathed. A loaded derringer helps, too.
And:
If you're in bed, and are threatened by an armed and angry man who says he can't kill you while you're naked, do not get up and get dressed.
Kirsty: I feel the need to confess here that I have met a bonnie young lassie on the road (okay, train) to Dundee, given her directions and travelled there with her. And I never asked her name. I have no desire to sing about it to bored young men in bars, but on the other hand I didn't get a kiss or exchange any valuables. I guess it's about fair.
No arguments wrt following returning princes, though. Always ends in tears, and you never get a pension out of it.
I'm laughing so hard I'm crying. Very well done!
But wait a sec. What about Lovely Nancy? There has to be something in there about Lovely Nancy, no? What's the word on Lovely Nancy?! (My wife's name is Nancy so perhaps I must have something, um, sorta kinda riding on this one. Heh.)
If your honey dies, you get 365 days to mope about it. Period. After that, move on. Lots of fish in the sea, et cetera. You do not want to mess with day 366.
JM, this was so damned funny that I got depressed remembering that not everyone I know likes the English and Scottish Popular Ballads and so won't get it if I send 'em the link. Your kids are in good hands.
I'm surprised this lesson has been left off the list of American Appendecies:
Don't take your guns to town. You'll end up either shooting a man just to watch him die or get yourself shot by a whisky soaked cowboy who is much faster than you ever thought possible.
Perhaps it's a sort of adendum to the always-listen-t-mama rule but it bears it's own special nod.
ROFLMAO
beyond the talking birds/animals, etc, anything that acts out of character is probably not on your side.Gold from strange pale young women will turn to dust. And who'd be a midwife?
If Lovely Nancy is only known as "Lovely," that's all right, though you might find the Irish tenors hanging about to be a bit tedious.
If, however, she's known as "[Name of Seaport] Nancy," well...be prepared for an unexpected trip to Shanghai under skysails.
Oh, and perhaps the most important tip of all.
Sleep late.
Nothing good every comes of any encounter that takes place all in the morning, early.
More advice to parents:
Don't ever say that you'd rather see your son die than be married to the serving maid. He will.
Also, on running off with people, it seems to be okay to run off with the gaberlunzie man, as long as he's actually a noble lord in disguise.
Come to think of it, I've profited by the lessons learned in ballads. Twice, when I've been in difficult situations, I've gotten advice from supernatural personages -- once from a raggedy man who was green from head to toe, and once from three women who would have been identical except that one was young, one middle-aged, and one old. I thanked them courteously, followed their advice to the letter, and had excellent good luck as a result. Oh, and I once had some wee lads give me advice about book packaging and c
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