Lyrics & Knowledge Personal Pages Record Shop Auction Links Radio & Media Kids Membership Help
The Mudcat Cafemuddy

Post to this Thread - Sort Descending - Printer Friendly - Home


Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87)

Charlie Baum 19 Jun 06 - 10:31 PM
Malcolm Douglas 19 Jun 06 - 10:55 PM
CeltArctic 20 Jun 06 - 12:55 AM
Charlie Baum 20 Jun 06 - 08:42 AM
Malcolm Douglas 20 Jun 06 - 07:49 PM
Roberto 21 Jun 06 - 02:45 AM
Susan of DT 06 Dec 10 - 06:54 AM
GUEST 24 Apr 13 - 11:58 AM
Share Thread
more
Lyrics & Knowledge Search [Advanced]
DT  Forum
Sort (Forum) by:relevance date
DT Lyrics:





Subject: Lyr Add: HARRY SAUNDERS (Child 87)
From: Charlie Baum
Date: 19 Jun 06 - 10:31 PM

Harry Saunders
(Child 87, "Prince Robert")
^^
It's forty miles to Nicut Town,
The nearest way you go,
But Harry Saunders has taken a wife
That he dares not to bring home.

His mother called her hired girl
"Sally, draw me a cup of tea,
For I see my son Harry's coming
To eat a meal with me."

His mother lifted the cup of tea,
And touched her lips to the drink,
But never a drop of the poison cup
Of drinking she did take.

Harry took the cup of tea
And put it to his mouth,
And he opened his bright red lips
And the poison went quickly down.

His wife sat at Nicut Hill,
Waiting for Harry to come;
She called to her own sister dear,
"Has my husband now come home?"

She went up to her room
And put on a riding skirt,
She went out to the stable old
And saddled her roan steed.

But when she came to Harry's home,
The guests well all in the hall.
The hearse was standing by the yard,
And the friends were mourning all.

"I've come for none of his gold," she said,
"Nor none of his lands so wide."
"The watch and chain I've thrown in the well,
From his own sweet bride to hide."

And then she kissed his cold white cheeks,
And then she kissed his chin,
And then she kissed his bright red lips
Where there was no breath come in.

And then she fell upon the floor,
Her head against the bier,
Her heart did break, it was so sore,
But she shed not any tear.

Sung by Mrs. Nan Wilson, Nicholas County
In Patrick W Gainer, Folk Songs from the West Virginia Hills, pp. 61-62


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87)
From: Malcolm Douglas
Date: 19 Jun 06 - 10:55 PM

Can you post the tune?


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87)
From: CeltArctic
Date: 20 Jun 06 - 12:55 AM

Yes, please - a tune would be much appreciated. I don't think I've come across this ballad before.

Moira


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87)
From: Charlie Baum
Date: 20 Jun 06 - 08:42 AM

What [inexpensive or free] tune transcription software works on a Mac?
--Charlie Baum


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87)
From: Malcolm Douglas
Date: 20 Jun 06 - 07:49 PM

ABC would be the best format for posting here. For Mac, try Barfly.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: Lyr Add: LORD O'BORE / LORD ABORE
From: Roberto
Date: 21 Jun 06 - 02:45 AM

Frank Feeney's version of Child #87, three recordings.

Lord O'Bore
Frank Feeney, on Early Ballads in Ireland 1968-1985, edited by Hugh Shields & Tom Munnelly, European Ethnic Oral Traditions, cassette; ballad recorded in 1970

Lord O'Bore and Mary Flynn
The two were children young
They were scarcely fourteen years of age
When love between them sprung
When love between them sprung

Lord O'Bore was going out one day
And says his mother to him
You're going away, dear son - she says
You'll drink before you'll go
Oh, you'll drink before you'll go

She brought him down a bottle of wine
And filled a glass for him
With her false, her false, with her two fingers
She put strong poison in
Oh, she put strong poison in

Oh why, oh why dear mother - he says
You've poisoned me full sore?
Oh indeed it's true, dear son - she says
You'll see Mary Flynn no more
Oh, you'll see Mary Flynn no more

Is there anybody in this house - he says
Would go on a message for me
Would go unto Mary Flynn's tower
And bring her here to me?
Oh, bring her here to me

Up spoke a pretty-faced little boy
Who was his sister's son:
Oh, I often went on your message before
But it's now I have need to run
Oh, it's now I have need to run

Where are you going, my pretty little boy
Or what brought you here to me? -
Your grandma 'pared a place for you
And now invited thee
Oh, now invited thee

Your grandma 'pared no place for me
Nor either invited thee
And soon she guessed of her pretty little boy
That lord O'Bore was dead
Oh, lord O'Bore was dead

Come saddle for me the swiftest horse
Come saddle for me the bay
Come saddle for me the swiftest horse
That ever ran that way
Oh, that ever ran that way

When she went to lord O'Bore's tower
She stepped into the hall
Oh, the sheets were spread and the torches burn....

What brought you here, Mary Flynn? - she says
What brought you here to me?
Oh, the ring that's on his little finger
I came to crave of thee
Oh, I came to crave of thee

No ring, no ring, Mary Flynn - she says
No ring have I for thee
For the pain of death it came so quick
It split the ring in three
Oh, it split the ring in three

She laid her feet beneath his feet
Her side down by his side
She laid her head beneath his head
And immediately she died
Oh, immediately she died



Lord Abore
Jim Kelly, on Early Ballads in Ireland 1968-1985, edited by Hugh Shields & Tom Munnelly, European Ethnic Oral Traditions, cassette; ballad recorded in 1970

Lord Abore and Mary Flynn
Were both children young
They were scarcely fourteen years of age
When love between them sprung
When love between them sprung

Now Lord Abore was going out one day
And when his mother came to know
You are going away, my son - she said
You will drink before you'll go
You will drink before you'll go

She called for a cask of the very best wine
And filled a glass for him
To her fault, her fault, with her two fingers
She put strong poison in
She put strong poison in

Oh why, oh why, dear mother - he says
Have you poisoned me full sore?
It is so, my son - she says to him
You'll see Mary Flynn no more
You'll see Mary Flynn no more

Is there anybody in this household - he said
Who will go on an errand for me
Who will ride to Mary Flynn's high tower
And fetch her here to me?
And fetch her here to me?

And then up spoke a young servant boy
I'm your faithful servant - said he
I will ride to Mary Flynn's high tower
And fetch her here to thee
And fetch her here to thee

And when he came to Mary Flynn's tower
He stepped into the hall
The tables were laid and the music played
And the ladies were dancing all
And the ladies were dancing all

What's brought you here, my pretty little boy
What's brought you here to me?
Has my grandmother set a place for you
Or yet invited thee?
Or yet invited thee?

Your grandmother set no place for me
Nor invited me - he said
And then she learned from the servant boy
That lord Abore was dead
That lord Abore was dead

Come saddle for me my swiftest steed
Come saddle for me the bay
That I may ride to my true love's side
Without the least delay
Without the least delay

And when she came to lord Abore's tower
She stepped into the hall
The tables were laid and the sheets were spread
And the torches burning all
The torches burning all

She lay her cheek down by his cheek
Her side down by his side
She lay her cheek down by his cheek
Then Mary Flynn she died
Then Mary Flynn she died

TM: Now Jim, what was the name of the fellow you got it from? JK: Frank Feeney TM: From-? Galloping Green
JK: Galloping Green, a pub in- Galloping Green, Stillorgan, co. Dublin.



^^^ Lord Abore
Al O'Donnell, in Al O'Donnell 2, Transatlantic LTRA 501, 1978.

Lord Abore and Mary Flynn
Were both children young
They were scarcely fourteen years of age
When love between them sprung
When love between them sprung

Now Lord Abore was going out one day
And when his mother came to know
You are going away, my son - she said
You will drink before you go
You will drink before you go

She called for a cask of the very best wine
And filled a glass for him
To her fault, her fault, with her two fingers
She put strong poison in
She put strong poison in

Oh why, oh why, dear mother - he says
Have you poisoned me full sore?
It is so, my son - she said to him
You'll see Mary Flynn no more
You'll see Mary Flynn no more

Is there anyone in this household - he said
Who will go on an errand for me
Who will ride to Mary Flynn's high tower
And fetch her here to me?
And fetch her here to me?

And then up spoke a young servant boy
I'm your faithful servant - said he
I will ride to Mary Flynn's high tower
And fetch her here to thee
And fetch her here to thee

And when he came to Mary Flynn's tower
He stepped into the hall
The tables were laid and the music played
And the ladies were dancing all
And the ladies were dancing all

What brought you here, my pretty little boy
What brought you here to me?
Has my grandmother set a place for you
Or yet invited thee?
Or yet invited thee?

Your grandmother set no place for me
Nor invited me - he said
And then she learned from the servant boy
That Lord Abore was dead
That Lord Abore was dead

Come saddle for me my swiftest steed
Come saddle for me the bay
That I may ride to my true love's side
Without the least delay
Without the least delay

And when she came to Lord Abore's tower
She stepped into the hall
The tables were laid and the sheets were spread
And the torches burning all
And the torches burning all

What brought you here, Mary Flynn – she said
What brought you here to me?
Oh, the ring that's on his little finger
I came to crave of thee
I came to crave of thee

No ring, no ring, Mary Flynn - she says
No ring have I for thee
For the pain of death it came so quick
It split the ring in three
Oh, it split the ring in three

She lay her cheek down by his cheek
Her side down by his side
She lay her cheek down by his cheek
And then Mary Flynn she died
And Mary Flynn she died


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87)
From: Susan of DT
Date: 06 Dec 10 - 06:54 AM

Also recorded by Margaret Nelson on Pretty Susan. No tune given in Bronson. Four versions in Child as Prince/Lord/Earl Robert.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate

Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87)
From: GUEST
Date: 24 Apr 13 - 11:58 AM

I don't that there ever was a legitimate "Prince Robert." I don't believe that Lord Abore is a mondegreen for Robert. Abore is a word that refers to how much has been born, tolerated, abided. That's what the word means. What do you think it would be like living all those years with a mother that would so cruel, that she would rather see you dead, poisoned,than allow you to marry your sweetheart? She couldn't have become that cruel just in time to poison him. He's Lord Abore. It was a perfectly good Irish-Scots ballad until Sir Walter Scott and his "near relative" Mrs. Christian Rutherford got a hold of it.


Post - Top - Home - Printer Friendly - Translate
  Share Thread:
More...

Reply to Thread
Subject:  Help
From:
Preview   Automatic Linebreaks   Make a link ("blue clicky")


Mudcat time: 23 September 5:53 PM EDT

[ Home ]

All original material is copyright © 1998 by the Mudcat Café Music Foundation, Inc. All photos, music, images, etc. are copyright © by their rightful owners. Every effort is taken to attribute appropriate copyright to images, content, music, etc. We are not a copyright resource.