The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #87066   Message #1623160
Posted By: Susan of DT
08-Dec-05 - 05:44 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Add: Scotland Man (Child #68, from G Landers)
Subject: Lyr Add: YOUNG HUNTING (Child #68, from S K Adams)
Roberto

Here is Sheila kay Adams version, that sounds similar, that I have ready for the next edition of the DT:

YOUNG HUNTING

Come in, come in, my old true love
And spend this night with me
For I have a bed, it's a very fine bed
I'll give it up for thee, thee
I'll give it up for thee

It's I can't come in, no, I ain't comin' in
To spend this night with thee
For I have a wife in the Old Scotland
This night she waits for me, me
This night she waits for me

It's she drawed out her little penknife
It a-being both keen and sharp
She step-ped up to her own true love
And stabbed him through his heart, heart
She stabbed him through his heart

Woe be, woe be, Lady Margaret – he cried
Woe be, woe be to thee
For there ain't no wife in the whole country
That I loved any better than thee, thee
That I loved any better than thee

Be still, be still, my old true love
One hour or two or three
And I will send for a doctor near
To save the life of thee, thee
To save the life of thee

It's I can't live, nor I won't live
From the wound you've given me
No doctor's hand, only God's own hand
Could save my life for me, me
Could save my life for me

It's she cried out to a servant maid:
This thing I promise thee
If you'll help me on this dark night
My gown I'll give to thee, thee
My gown I'll give to thee

It's she took a-hold of his long yellow hair
And the other took up his feet
The throwed him into the old dry-well
Which was so cold and deep, deep
Which was so cold and deep

Lay there, lay there, my own false love
Till the flesh rots off'n your bones
And the little ol' wife in the Old Scotland
Shall mourn for your return, -turn
Shall mourn for your return

Up spoke, up spoke a pretty little bird
All from the willow tree
There weren't no girl in the Old Scotland
That he loved any better than thee, thee
That he loved any better than thee

Fly down, fly down, my pretty little dove
And perch upon my knee
I'll give you a cage of the purest gold
Sure beats that willow tree, tree
Sure beats that willow tree

I won't come down, no, I ain't comin' down
To perch upon thy knee
For you just murdered your own true love
The same you'd serve to me, me
The same you'd serve to me

It's I'll go and get my arrow and my bow
My arrow and my string
An' I'll shoot you through your tender little heart
You never more shall sing, sing
You never more shall sing

While you go to get your arrow and your bow
Your arrow and your string
I'll fly away on my two little wings
Forever more I'll sing, sing
Forever more I'll sing


transcribed from Sheila Kay Adams My Dearest Dear CD, which was issued in 2000
Notes say these lyrics are taken from Sharp's English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians

An accompanied version appears on the 2004 CD, All the Other Fine Things, by Shela Kay Adams. On this version, the wording is a bit different and Sheila Kay leaves off the last five verses.

Child #68
@murder @talkbird
filename[ YNGHUNT6
JO