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(Bob Coltman)

Pretty little girl all dressed in white,
Weave, wove, and woven,
Walking in the garden alone tonight,
Walking in the garden without any light,
Hee, ho, Devil in the garden,
Devil in the garden roving.

Down in the garden she met a man walking,
Weave, etc.
She knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help larking,
'Fore she knew it she and him was a-talking,
Hee, ho, etc.

Lookahere, girl, d'you know who I am? ...
Yes sir, yes sir, and I'm in a jam,
For you're the original flimflam man ...

Lookahere, girl, you must play my game .
Nine hard questions, your soul to claim,
And you must answer 'em just the same . .

What is lost and can never be found? ...
What is the ring that'll never roll round,
And what is the rock that'll never break down? .

The days are lost and can never be found . . .
Ring of the bell will never roll round
And a rock of the cradle will never break down

What is the string that can never be tied? ...
And what is the mare nobody can ride,
And what is the question no one can decide? ...

Man's heartstrings can never be tied ...
Old nightmare nobody can ride,
And where I'm goin' even you can't decide ...

What is bluer than the sky so blue? ...
What is truer than me or you,
And what can you tell the poor Devil to do? . . .

Bluer is the water in Duncan's well ...
Truer is love than tongue can tell,
And I can tell the Devil to run back to Hell ...

Fare you well then, human girl ...
God and me and you in the middle,
You speak so smart to the Devil's riddle,
You are not mine, you're of this world . . .

(Riddles Wisely Expounded, No. 1, and The Elfin Knight, No. 2
These two fell together in my mind and wouldn't separate: one a devil's
quiz, the other the riddling of an elf lover, both with ulterior motives: to
carry off the lady to some secluded spot and...

The story is as old as time, came with us probably when the earth first
grew green. It was scary when villages were little spots of light in the great
dark of the forest and the next silhouette to come over the hill might not
have proper substance. But I made mine modern, as if in one of those movies
set in the moonlit garden of some decaying southern mansion, the Devil in
the shape of a portly Senator and the wise virgin a sassy flapper out for a
breath of air. I wish you could have seen Abby and Lyn singing this; they
pounced on it as if they'd been waiting up nights for a chance to sass the

Child #1
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