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19 Jun 06 - 10:31 PM (#1764234) Subject: Lyr Add: HARRY SAUNDERS (Child 87) From: Charlie Baum 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 |
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19 Jun 06 - 10:55 PM (#1764245) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87) From: Malcolm Douglas Can you post the tune? |
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20 Jun 06 - 12:55 AM (#1764317) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87) From: CeltArctic Yes, please - a tune would be much appreciated. I don't think I've come across this ballad before. Moira |
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20 Jun 06 - 08:42 AM (#1764532) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87) From: Charlie Baum What [inexpensive or free] tune transcription software works on a Mac? --Charlie Baum |
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20 Jun 06 - 07:49 PM (#1765099) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87) From: Malcolm Douglas ABC would be the best format for posting here. For Mac, try Barfly. |
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21 Jun 06 - 02:45 AM (#1765304) Subject: Lyr Add: LORD O'BORE / LORD ABORE From: Roberto 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 |
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06 Dec 10 - 06:54 AM (#3047318) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87) From: Susan of DT Also recorded by Margaret Nelson on Pretty Susan. No tune given in Bronson. Four versions in Child as Prince/Lord/Earl Robert. |
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24 Apr 13 - 11:58 AM (#3508238) Subject: RE: Lyr Add: Harry Saunders (Child 87) From: GUEST 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. |