The Storms Are on the Ocean

American folk group The Carter Family sang this version in 1927
A fragmented derivative of "Annie of Lochroyal"/"Turtle Dove"

A US variant of Child Ballad #76
"The Lass of Roch Royal"
Herd c1776

Various floating verses are found in
"Fare You Well, My Own True Love", "The False True Lover", "The True Lover's Farewell", "Red Rosy Bush", "Turtle Dove",
"The Lass of Roch Royal"

There are a number of songs from late 19th century - early 20th century that contain the "Who will shoe your pretty little feet?" verses.
Versions of songs that include these verses have been categorized as Child No. 76. These songs do not tell the story of Lord Gregory and the Lass of Roch Royal and are not properly versions of Child No. 76. Since The Lass of Roch Royal has these verses (the questions are two verses and the responses are two verses), many ballad scholars have included unrelated songs as Child 76 when these two verses are present.

The “Who will shoe my pretty feet?” stanzas, are the American equivalent of the “Wha will lave my shoes sae sma'?” in the Scottish version of the ballad.
These stanzas have been collected widely by themselves as simple lyric songs, taking on a life of its own and becoming a song in its own right, as well as appearing as part of many ballads (see Coffin's The British Traditional Ballad in North America, p. 81, for a partial list of ballads to which these stanzas had appended). Collectors have, all too frequently, resorted to listing a version of The Lass of Roch Royal, when their contribution to recorded lore is merely another “Who will shoe” text.


In the song the true lover bids farewell, promising to be true. He asks, "Who will shoe your pretty little feet?" Various floating verses follow, in which the traveler may or may not return and the young woman may or may not grieve at her fate

THE STORMS ARE ON THE OCEAN

I'm going away for to leave you, love
I'm going away for awhile.
But I'll return to you some time
If I go ten thousand miles.


cho: The storms are on the ocean
The heavens may cease to be.
The world may lose its motion, love
If I prove false to thee.

Now who will shoe your pretty little feet?
And who will glove your hand?
Who will kiss your red rosy cheek
Till I come back again?

Poppa will shoe my pretty little feet,
Momma will glove my hand.
And you can kiss my red rosy cheeks
When you return again.

See that lonesome turle dove
As he flies from pine to pine.
He's mourning for his own true love
Just the way I mourn for mine.

I'll never go back on the ocean love
I'll never go back on th sea.
I'll never go back on the blue-eyed girl
Till she goes back on me.



"The Storms Are on the Ocean'"
1917

Taken down on Buck Hill in Avery county, North Carolina, in 1917 from the singing of "an old lady who lived up there and who varied her household duties with work in the mica mill at Plumtree.
This version has enough elements of "The Lass of Roch Royal" to be considered a version of the ballad.

1 'Oh, who will shoe your little foot,
And who will glove your hand,
And who will kiss your ruby lips,
When I'm in a foreign land?

2 "The storms are on the ocean,
The sea begins to roll;
The earth may lose its motion
Ere I prove false to thee.'

3 "Papa can shoe my little foot,
And mama can glove my hand,
And friends can kiss my ruby lips,
Till you come home again.'

4 'Your papa can shoe your little foot,
Your mama can glove your hand,
But no one can be your babe's father
While I'm in a foreign land.'

5 'Oh, if I had a sailing ship
And men to sail with me,
I'd go today to my true love
Who will not come to me.'

6 Her father gave her a sailing ship
And sent her to the stand.
She took her baby on her lap
And turned her back on land.

7 She had not been at sea three months,
I'm sure it was not four,
Till she had landed her sailing ship
Right at her true love's door.

8 The night was black and the wind blew cold
And her lover was sound asleep,
And the baby in poor Annie's arms
Began to cry and weep.

9 Long she stood at her true love's door
And jingled at the ring.
At last his mother rose from bed,
But would not let her in.

10 'Oh, don't you recall,' poor Annie said,
'When we sat down to dine.
We stripped the rings from our fingers,
And the best of the rings was mine?'

11 'Go way, go way, you bad woman.
Go away from the door in shame.
For I have got me another love
And you can go back home.'

12 Her true love rose from out his bed
And to his mother said:
'I dreamed fair Annie and her child
Stood right beside my bed.'

13 'There was a woman at the door
With a baby in her arms.
But I wouldn't let her in the house
For fear she'd do you harm.'

14 Oh, quickly, quickly rose he up
And fast ran to the stand,
And there he saw his fair Annie
A-sailing from the land.

15 And 'hey, Annie,' and 'hi, Annie,'
And 'Annie, speak to me.'
But the louder he cried 'Annie'
The louder roared the sea.

16 The wind grew loud and the sea grew rough
And the ship was broke in twain.
And soon he saw his old true love
Come floating o'er the main.

17 He saw his baby in her arms,
Both tossed upon the tide.
He wrung his hands and fast he ran
And plunged into the tide.



The Bonny Lass of Lochroyan, or Lochroyen'- Version B; The Lass of Roch Royal Child 76
Herd's Manuscript, I, 144; II, 60, the first ten lines; Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, 1, 149.

1    'O wha will shoe thy bonny feet?
Or wha will glove thy hand?
Or wha will lace thy midle jimp,
With a lang, lang London whang?

2    'And wha will kame thy bonny head,
With a tabean brirben kame?
And wha will be my bairn's father,
Till Love Gregory come hame?'

3    'Thy father'll shoe his bonny feet,
Thy mither'll glove his hand;
Thy brither will lace his middle jimp,
With a lang, lang London whang.

4    'Mysel will kame his bonny head,
With a tabean brirben kame;
And the Lord will be the bairn's father,
Till Love Gregory come hame.'

5    Then she's gart build a bonny ship,
It's a' cored oer with pearl,
And at every needle-tack was in't
There hang a siller bell.

6    And she's awa . . .
To sail upon the sea;
She's gane to seek Love Gregory,
In lands whereer he be.

7    She hadna saild a league but twa,
O scantly had she three,
Till she met with a rude rover,
Was sailing on the sea.

8    'O whether is thou the Queen hersel,
Or ane o her maries three?
Or is thou the lass of Lochroyan,
Seeking Love Gregory?'

9    'O I am not the Queen hersell,
Nor ane o her maries three;
But I am the lass o Lochroyan,
Seeking Love Gregory.

10    'O sees na thou yone bonny bower?
It's a' cored oer with tin;
When thou hast saild it round about,
Love Gregory is within.'

11    When she had saild it round about,
She tirled at the pin:
'O open, open, Love Gregory,
Open, and let me in!
For I am the lass of Lochroyan,
Banisht frae a' my kin.'

12    'If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,
As I know no thou be,
Tell me some of the true tokens
That past between me and thee.'

13    'Hast thou na mind, Love Gregory,
As we sat at the wine,
We changed the rings aff ither's hands,
And ay the best was mine?

14    'For mine was o the gude red gould,
But thine was o the tin;
And mine was true and trusty baith,
But thine was fa'se within.

15    'If thou be the lass of Lochroyan,
As I know na thou be,
Tell me some mair o the true tokens
Past between me and thee.'

16    'And has na thou na mind, Love Gregory,
As we sat on yon hill,
Thou twin'd me of my [maidenhead,]
Right sair against my will?

17    'Now open, open, Love Gregory,
Open, and let me in!
For the rain rains on my gude cleading,
And the dew stands on my chin.'

18    Then she has turnd her round about:
'Well, since that it be sae,
Let never woman that has born a son
Hae a heart sae full of wae.

19    'Take down, take down that mast o gould,
Set up a mast of tree;
For it dinna become a forsaken lady
To sail so royallie.'

20    'I dreamt a dream this night, mother,
I wish it may prove true,
That the bonny lass of Lochroyan
Was at the gate just now.'

21    'Lie still, lie still, my only son,
And sound sleep mayst thou get,
For it's but an hour or little mair
Since she was at the gate.'

22    Awa, awa, ye wicket woman,
And an ill dead may ye die!
Ye might have ither letten her in,
Or else have wakened me.

23    'Gar saddle to me the black,' he said,
'Gar saddle to me the brown;
Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed
That is in a' the town.'

24    Now the first town that he cam to,
The bells were ringing there;
And the neist toun that he cam to,
Her corps was coming there.

25    'Set down, set down that comely corp,
Set down, and let me see
Gin that be the lass of Lochroyan,
That died for love o me.'

26    And he took out the little penknife
That hang down by his gare,
And he's rippd up her winding-sheet,
A lang claith-yard and mair.

27    And first he kist her cherry cheek,
And syne he kist her chin,
And neist he kist her rosy lips;
There was nae breath within.

28    And he has taen his little penknife,
With a heart that was fou sair,
He has given himself a deadly wound,
And word spake never mair.