The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #4062   Message #3044244
Posted By: Jim Dixon
01-Dec-10 - 12:44 PM
Thread Name: Lyr Req: Fine Sally (Brown Girl???)
From Historical Sketch of the Proudfit Family of York County, Pennsylvania compiled by Margaret Compton (Meadville, Pa., 1911), page 90:

Alexander Proudfit (3) had a fund of songs with which he often amused his children as they sat before the old stone fireplace in the living-room at Proudfit's Point. (He never sang psalms to his children. To use the inspired words for any purpose but worship was sacrilege.) My mother often recalled how she used to sit on one knee while "Nancy" occupied the other, and the father sang the old English or Scotch ballads popular in that day. She remembered snatches of some of them, as "The Blackbird," "Polly Van Lieuw," "Young Musgrave," and others less well known. A few months before her death there came into her mind the words and tune of one of these which had lain dormant in her memory for seventy years. As a lyric curiosity it seems worth preserving, and as there is probably no copy in existence except that which I wrote down from my Mother's lips, I append it here.


An Irish fair lady to London there came,
And Sally Salisbury they call-ed her name.
Her beauty was more than the King could express,
And her riches were more than the King could purchase.

A gallant young knight with ten thousand a year
A-courting unto this fair lady did steer;
But she being so lofty and her portion so high,
That on this young knight she would scarce cast an eye.

"Oh, Sally! Oh, Sally! Oh, Sally!" said he,
"Ain't you sorry that your love and mine can't agree?"
"Young man, I would have you to leave off your discourse,
For I never will wed you unless I am forced."

"Oh, Sally! Oh. Sally! Oh, Sally!" said he,
"I'm sorry that your love and mine can't agree.
I make no great doubt that your folly you'll see,
And then you'll be sorry that you slighted me."

Scarce a month's come, or scarce a month's passed,
When this young man heard of his love's fate at last:
She sent for this young man whom she'd slighted with scorn;
She's pierced to the heart and she knows not wherefrom.

When he came there he came to her bed-side:
"Lies the pain in your head, love, lies the pain in your side?"
"Oh, No!" she repli-ed, "the truth you hain't guessed;
The pain which I bear pierces me in the breast.

"You are the doctor, I sent for you here;
You are the one that can kill or can cure."
A-sighing and sobbing these words she did say,
"Without your assistance I'm ruined this day."

"Oh, Sally! Oh, Sally! Oh, Sally!" said he,
"Don't you mind the time when you slighted me?
I ne'er will forgive you as long as I draw breath,
But I'll dance on your grave when you're laid in the earth!"

"Farewell to my father; farewell to my friends;
Farewell to my true love, I'll make him amends."
Then off of her fingers pulled diamond rings three,
Saying, "Take these for my sake when you're dancing on me!"

"Farewell to my friends; farewell to my foes!
Farewell to this world, full of sorrows and woes!
I freely forgive him although he don't me.
Ten thousand times over my folly I see."

So now she is dead, as we do suppose,
And to the fair sex she's left all her fine clothes.
"Come all ye pretty maidens, take warning by me,
And treat your true lovers with civilitee."