Subject: RE: Child Ballads: US Versions
From:
Richie
Date: 16 Feb 12 - 11:27 PM
Thanks Steve for the clarification--- Sorry for this long post. I'm confused about Twa Brothers Child E; When I added Motherwell text from page 60 it was not the same but a collation- see at the bottom of this post. Where is the collation from? I know it's found on p. 270 the Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland.
The Twa Brothers- Child Version E
Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60.
1 There were twa brothers at the scule,
And when they got awa,
'It's will ye play at the stane-chucking,
Or will ye play at the ba,
Or will ye gae up to yon hill head,
And there we'll warsel a fa?'
2 'I winna play at the stane-chucking,
Nor will I play at the ba;
But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,
And there we'll warsel a fa.'
3 They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
A dirk fell out of William's pouch,
And gave John a deadly wound.
4 'O lift me upon your back,
Take me to yon well fair,
And wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
And they'll neer bleed nae mair.'
5 He's lifted his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon well fair;
He's wash'd his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.
6 'Tak ye aff my holland sark,
And rive it gair by gair,
And row it in my bluidy wounds,
And they'll neer bleed nae mair.'
7 He's taken aff his holland sark,
And torn it gair by gair;
He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.
8 'Tak now aff my green cleiding,
And row me saftly in,
And tak me up to yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.'
9 He's taken aff the green cleiding,
And rowed him saftly in;
He's laid him down by yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.
10 'What will ye say to your father dear,
When ye gae hame at een?'
'I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.'
11 'O no, O no, my brother dear,
O you must not say so;
But say that I'm gane to a foreign land,
Whare nae man does me know.'
12 When he sat in his father's chair,
He grew baith pale and wan:
'O what blude's that upon your brow?
O dear son, tell to me;'
'It is the blude of my gray steed,
He wadna ride wi me.'
13 'O thy steed's blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your cheek?
O dear son, tell to me;'
'It is the blude of my greyhound,
He wadna hunt for me.'
14 'O thy hound's blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your hand?
O dear son, tell to me;'
'It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk,
He wadna flee for me.'
15 'O thy hawk's blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your dirk?
Dear Willie, tell to me;'
'It is the blude of my ae brother,
O dule and wae is me!'
16 'O what will ye say to your father?
Dear Willie, tell to me;'
'I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride,
To dwell in some far countrie.'
17 'O when will ye come hame again?
Dear Willie, tell to me;'
'When sun and mune leap on yon hill,
And that will never be.'
18 She turnd hersel right round about,
And her heart burst into three:
'My ae best son is deid and gane,
And my tother ane I'll neer see.'
______________
From: Minstrelsy: Ancient and Modern, with an historical intr.p. 60 William Motherwell - 1827
THE TWA BROTHERS
The domestic tragedy which this affecting ballad commemorates is not without precedent in real history; nay, we are almost inclined to believe that it originated in the following melancholy event:—
"This year, 1589, in the moneth of July, ther falls out a sad accident, as a further warneing that God was displeased with the familie. The Lord Sommervill haveing come from Cowthally, earlie in the morning, in regaird the weather was hott, he had ridden hard to be at the Drum be ten a clock, which haveing done, he laid him down to rest The servant, with his two sones, William Master of Sommervill and John his brother, went with the horses to ane Shott of land, called the Prety Shott, directly opposite the front of the house where there was some meadow ground for grassing the horses, and willowes to shaddow themselves from the heat They had not long continued in this place, when the Master of Somervill efter some litle rest awakeing from his sleep and finding his pistolles that lay hard by him wett with the dew he began to rub and dry them, when unhappily one of them went off the ratch, being lying upon his knee, and the muzel turned syde-ways, the ball strocke his brother John directly in the head, and killed him outright, soe that his sorrowful brother never had one word from him, albeit he begged it with many teares."—Memorie of the Somervilies, Vol. I. p. 467.
The reader will find in the first volume of "Popular Ballads and Songs" another edition of this ballad, which, in point of merit, is perhaps superior to the present copy. The third stanza of that edition was however imperfect, and the ingenious editor, Mr. Jamieson, has supplied four lines to render it complete. Excellent though his interpolations generally are, it will be seen that, in this instance, he has quite misconceived the scope and tendency of the piece on which he was working, and in consequence has supplied a reading with which the rest of his own copy is at complete variance, and which at same time sweeps away the deep impression this simple ballad would otherwise have made upon the feelings; for it is almost unnecessary to mention that its touching interest is made to centre in the boundless sorrow, and cureless remorse, of him who had been the unintentional cause of his brother's death—and in the solicitude which that high-minded and generous spirit expresses, even in the last agonies of nature, for the safety and fortunes of the truly wretched and unhappy survivor. Mr. Jamieson's addition is given below.—By that addition this ballad has been altered in one of its most distinctive and essential features; hence the present copy, which preserves the genuine reading in the stanza referred to, though it might have derived considerable improve- ments in other particulars from the one given by Mr. Jamieson, has, on the whole, been preferred. The addition to the stanza in question is inclosed by crotchets.
They warstled up, they warstled down,
The lee lang simmer's day;
[And nane was near to part the strife
That raise atween them tway,
Till out and Willie's drawn his sword,
And did his brother slay.]
__________________
There were twa brothers at the scule,
And when they got awa'—
"It's will ye play at the stane-chucking,
Or will ye play at the ba',
Or will ye gae up to yon hill head,
And there we'll warsell a fa'."
When he sat in his father's chair
He grew baith pale and wan.
"O what blude's that upon your brow?
O dear son tell to me."
"It is the blude o' my gude gray steed,
He wadna ride wi' me."
"O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red,
Nor e'er sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your cheek?
O dear son tell to me."
"It is the blude of my greyhound,
He wadna hunt for me."
"O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red,
Nor e'er sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your cheek,
O dear son tell to me."
"It is the blude of my gay goss hawk,
He wadna flee for me."
"O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red,
Nor e'er sae dear to me;
O what blude's this upon your dirk?
Dear Willie tell to me."
"It is the blude of my ae brother,
O dule and wae is me."
"O what will ye say to your father?
Dear Willie tell to me."
"I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride
To dwell in some far countrie."
"O when will ye come hame again?
Dear Wiilie tell to me."
"When sun and mune leap on yon hill,
And that will never be."
She turn'd hersel' right round about,
And her heart burst into three:
"My ae best son is deid and gane,
And my tother ane I'll ne'er see."
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