SLEEPY OWLSEY^^^
(Bob Coltman)

Sleepy Owlsey, old sleepyhead,
Betcha I can sleep with you and keep my maidenhead,
You'll never touch me, I'll go a maiden home,
You'll be so sleepy that you'll never know I'm gone.

Sleepy Owlsey raised his sleepy head,
All right then, Brinnie, go and make up the bed,
I may not know much, but one thing I do,
I never go to sleep at night without I dream of you.

Brinnie took a feather, magic for to make,
Wrapped it in a cobweb, he'll never stay awake,
Slipped it in his pillow, sleepy as can be,
Old dull fool-cake, he'll never bother me.

When here come Owlsey and he laid down his head,
Feather in the pillow the magic it spread,
Down come his eyelids, he hardly made a peep,
Never even touched her before he's fast asleep.

He woke up in the morning, he looked and she was gone,
Thought it was the soft bed had made him sleep so long,
He threw away the blanket, threw away the sheet,
Threw away the pillow, see now if I sleep.

Come on now, Brinnie, won't you try another lick?
She looked at the bare bed, she looked a little sick,
I don't think I better, I really can't stay,
I got about a thousand things I got to do today.

She pulled and she tugged, but he got her on the bed,
Rumpled up her clothes and he tousled up her head,
Rocked her like a rowboat drifting in a squall,
And old Sleepy Owlsey wasn't sleepy at all.

Brinnie lay and Brinnie smiled and Brinnie blew a kiss,
I never would have, fussed so if I'd known `twould be like this,
I will lay aside my magic, be good if I can,
And old Sleepy Owlsey be my true loving man.


The Broomfield Hill, No. 43

Talk about old stories; they can hardly come any older. In the original the lady bets a knight she can lie down with him in the broom and yet rise up a maiden. Sometimes by luck, sometimes by magic, she contrives to do it, making him sleep so hard he can't manage to touch her. He wakes up well into the day with his horse and hound looking at him in the most excruciatingly pitying sort of way. Naturally the maiden herself has gone snickering home. Well ... witchcraft has its ups and downs. I changed the Scots recipe for the yawns, broom flowers liberally sprinkled over the head, to the European feather, and added the cobweb myself, for what else is so sleepy? But strangely enough, even this potent spell did not work. Also it seemed to me that the lady, if she was going to play with fire, ought at least to get warm.

@magic @myth
Child #43
filename[ BROMFLD5
SOF
Feb07


Son of Child CD Track 4