P. 104. From the recitation of Miss Lydia R. Nichols, Salem,
Massachusetts, as heard in the early years of this century. Sung
by a New England country fellow on ship-board: Journal of
American Folk-Lore, VII, 253 ff., 1894.
As to "drew her table," 13, the following information is
given: "I have often heard a mother tell her daughter to 'draw
the table.' Forty years ago it was not uncommon to see in
farmhouses a large round table, the body of which was made to
serve as an armchair. When the table was not in use the top was
tipped back against the wall. Under the chair-seat was a drawer
in which the table linen was kept. When meal-time came the table
was drawn away from the wall, the top brought down on the arms of
the chair, and the cloth, which had been fished out of the
drawer, spread over it."
| 1 |
Sweet William he married a wife,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
To be the sweet comfort of his life.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 2 |
Jenny couldnt in the kitchen to go,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
For fear of dirting her white-heeled shoes.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 3 |
Jenny couldnt wash, and Jenny couldnt bake,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
For fear of dirting her white apurn tape.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 4 |
Jenny couldnt card, and Jenny couldnt spin,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
For fear of hurting her gay gold ring.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 5 |
Sweet William came whistling in from plaow,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
Says, 'O my dear wife, is my dinner ready naow?'
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 6 |
She called him a dirty paltry whelp:
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
'If you want any dinner, go get it yourself.'
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 7 |
Sweet William went aout unto the sheep-fold,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
And aout a fat wether he did pull.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 8 |
And daown on his knees he began for to stick,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
And quicklie its skin he thereof did strip.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 9 |
He took the skin and laid on his wife's back,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
And with a good stick went whikety whack.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 10 |
'I'll tell my father and all my kin
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
How still a quarrel you 've begun.'
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 11 |
'You may tell your father and all your kin
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
How I have thrashed my fat wether's skin.'
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 12 |
Sweet William came whistling in from plaow,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
Says, 'Oh my dear wife, is my dinner ready naow?'
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 13 |
She drew her table and spread her board,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
And, ' Oh my dear husband,' was every word.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
| 14 |
And naow they live free from all care and strife,
Gentle Jenny cried rosemaree
And naow she makes William a very good wife.
As the dew flies over the mulberry tree. |
Folk-Lore Society, County Folk-Lore, Printed Extracts: No 2,
Suffolk, 1893, collected and edited by the Lady Eveline Camilla
Gurdon, p. 139 f. Contributed by "a Suffolk man" to the Suffolk
Notes and Queries column of The Ipswich Journal, 1877.
| 1 |
There wus a man lived in the West,
Limbo clashmo!
There wus a man lived in the West,
He married the wuman that he liked best.
With a ricararo, ricararo, milk in the morn,
O dary mingo. |
| 2 |
He married this wuman and browt her horn,
Limbo clashmo!
He married this wuman and browt her horn,
And set her in his best parlour rom.
With a ricararo, ricararo, milk in the morn,
O dary mingo. |
| 3 |
My man and I went to the fowd,
Limbo clashmo!
My man and I went to the fowd,
And ketcht the finest wuther that we could howd.
With a ricararo, ricararo, milk in the morn,
O dary mingo. |
| 4 |
We fleed this wuther and browt him horn,
Limbo clashmo!
We fleed this wuther and browt him horn,
Sez I, 'Wife, now youar begun yar doon.
With a ricararo, ricararo, milk in the morn,
O dary mingo. |
| 5 |
I laid this skin on my wife's back,
Limbo clashmo!
I laid this skin on my wife's back,
And on to it I then did swack.
With a ricararo, ricararo, milk in the morn,
O dary mingo. |
| 6 |
I 'inted har with ashen ile,
Limbo clashmo!
I 'inted har with ashen ile,
Till she could both brew, bake, wash and bile.
O dary mingo — mingo. |
