Lyr Req: Fair Rosie-Anne (#52, from Maureen Jelks)

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Maureen Jelks' Fair Rosie-Anne #52
From: Roberto
Date: 16 Oct 05 - 09:03 AM

Thank you very very much, Matthew: I didn't know of this cd, that now I've ordered. R

Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Maureen Jelks' Fair Rosie-Anne #52
From: Matthew Edwards
Date: 16 Oct 05 - 07:21 AM

Roberto, your transcription reads fine to me. I'd spell 'leave' rather than 'leeve' in v.6 l.4. . In v.8 l.2 I seem to hear Maureen sing 'I'll not deny' rather than 'I've not denied'. Your last two verses seem correct although I'm not sure of the exact meaning of 'stricked back her yellow hair'. Child 52C which is from Buchan's 1828 text reads:-

To her room her brother's gane,
Stroked back her yellow hair,
To her lips his ain did press,
But words spake never mair.

Child 52D from Buchan's MSS reads:-

Up she's taen her milk-white hand,
Streakd by his yellow hair,
Then turnd about her bonny face,          b 'She turned..'
And word spake never mair.

Anyway I'm sure you'll be interested in another version of this ballad which has just been released. It is sung by John Strachan on a CD put together by Mike Yates as a tribute to another great collector. Hamish Henderson Collects:Songs, ballads and a story from the School of Scottish Studies Archives Kyloe 107. The review by Danny Stradling is on Musical Traditions while full details of the CD and the story behind it, including transcripts are on Mike Yates's own Kyloe Records site.

Subject: Lyr Req: Maureen Jelks' Fair Rosie-Anne #52
From: Roberto
Date: 16 Oct 05 - 01:37 AM

This is my transcription, but I'm not sure, expecially in the last two stanzas. Please, an overall check. Thanks. R

Fair Rosie-Anne (Child number 52), Maureen Jelks, Eence Upon A Time, The Living Tradition, the Tradition Beares series, LTCD 1004, 2000. From Maureen Jelks' notes: My version was put together for me by Peter Shepheard. The tune and much of the text from Alex Robb of New Deer, Aberdeenshire, 1909. The text is collated with a version Pete Shepheard collected from Martha (Peasie) Reid of Birnam, Dunkeld, 1967, and the concluding verse from Peter Buchan's Ancient Ballads & Songs of the North of Scotland, published in 1828, where the ballad is under the title Castle Ha's Daughter.

Fair Rosie-Anne sat on her castle wa'
Sewing at her satin seam
And she's awa tae the guid greenwood
Some nuts for to pu' and bring hame

She hadna pu'ed a nut, a nut,
A nut but barely three
When a young man he cam intae the wood
For tae ruin her fair bodie

Oh cam' ye here tae be my guide?
Or cam' ye tae be my slave?
Or cam' ye here, young man - she said
Tae put me in my grave?

I cam' nae here tae be your guide
Nor cam' I tae be your slave
It's your mantle or your maidenhead
It's ain o' them I'll hae

O gin ye tak' my mantle, young man
Another I can caird and spin
But gin ye tak' my maidenhead
I'll never see it again

He's ta'en her by the middle sae sma'
And by the grass green sleeve
And he's laid her low in the guid greenwood
And at her spake nae leeve

O since ye've ta'en the wills o' me
The will o' me ye've ta'en
Will ye be sae guid, young man - she said
As tell tae me your name?

My name, my name, fair maid - he said
My name I've not denied
For I am Lord Barnet's only son
And he never had another but I

If you be Lord Barnet's son
There's little between you and me
For I am Lord Barnet's ae daughter
And he never had another but I

Heel weel, heel weel, dear sister – he said
Heel weel, heel weel, tae me
For I wish my ship it had been wrecked
And sunk tae the bottom o' the sea

Fair Rosie-Anne sat in the greenwood
Lamentin' on what she'd done
When her mother cam' intae the wood
Saying - What ails thee, fair Rosie-Anne?

As I cam' ow'r yon high high hill
And doon by yon castle wa'
O heavy, heavy was the stone
That on my foot did fa'

Dry up your tears, fair Rosie-Anne
And come awa hame wi' me
For yoor brother John is new come hame
Is new come hame frae the sea

O haud your whist, dear mother - she cried
O haud your whist fae me
For he may be made welcome in a' the hoose
But he'll never be made welcome by me

O dowie, dowie rose she up
And dowie she's gaed hame
And she's ta'en off her silk mantle
And tae her bed she's lain

Then in cam' her brother John
Stricked back her yellow hair
And tae her lips his ain did press
And words he never spake mair
And words he never spake mair