SOME QUAINT OLD BALLADSBy Virginia Chambers
By Virginia Chambers
Mammy used to sing them to us—those quaint, old ballads. Now, there are mammies and mammies, and our mammy considered herself a “quality lady.” She and all her family had always been house servants, and, as such, looked with utter contempt upon the “field hands.”
Mammy tried to live up to her exalted position; and while she had many of the characteristics of her race, she had tried to imitate “Ole Mistis” until her manners were almost ludicrously dignified and prim. As a result of this, the songs with which she entertained us were those she had heard from the grandees of old Virginia, when she was young. I am growing old myself, and Mammy was an old woman when I was a child, so her songs belong to many generations past, being, most of them, evidently from England.
I can only give them as I remember them, having never seen one of them in print; and as they are but a child’s recollections of an ignorant old negro’s songs, it is to be presumed that they are very faulty. However, even as we heard them, they seem worth preserving.
The mind can easily call up the picture—the locusts and catalpas clustered around the back porch of our old plantation home—Mammy in her low chair under our favorite tree—the baby in her lap—the group of children all around her, all waiting impatiently for her to croon the baby to sleep and go with us to gather the jasmine flowers for “Miss ’Gusta’s” pomatum, or the raspberries for “Ole Mistis’s” lunch.
We must have been of a sentimental turn, for the chief favorite was a doleful ditty, called
Lord LovellLord Lovell, he stood at his castle gate,A-combing his milk-white steed,When out came the lady Nancy Bell,To wish her lover good speed-speed-speed,To wish her lover good speed.“Oh, where are you going, Lord Lovell?” she said,“And where are you going?” said she.“I’m going away, Lady Nancy Bell,Strange countries for to see-see-see,Strange countries for to see.”And when he’d been gone a year and a day,Strange countries for to see,A languishing thought came over his mind.His lady-love for to see-see-see,His lady-love for to see.So he rode and he rode on his milk-white steed,Till he came to London town,And there he heard the great church bell,And the people were gathered around-’round-’round,And the people were gathered around.“Oh, what is the matter?” Lord Lovell, he said,“And what is the matter?” said he.And then they said: “A lady is dead;Some called her the Lady Nancy-cy-cy,Some called her the Lady Nancy.”Lady Nancy, she died as it might be to-day,Lord Lovell, he died on the morrow;Lady Nancy, she died of pure, pure love,Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow-row-row,Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow.Lady Nancy was buried on one hill top;Lord Lovell was buried on t’other;And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,And out of her lover’s a brier-er-er,And out of her lover’s a brier.They grew and they grew, to the church steeple top,And they couldn’t grow any higher;And then they formed a true lover’s knot, knot,Which all true lovers admire-er-er,Which all true lovers admire.
Lord LovellLord Lovell, he stood at his castle gate,A-combing his milk-white steed,When out came the lady Nancy Bell,To wish her lover good speed-speed-speed,To wish her lover good speed.“Oh, where are you going, Lord Lovell?” she said,“And where are you going?” said she.“I’m going away, Lady Nancy Bell,Strange countries for to see-see-see,Strange countries for to see.”And when he’d been gone a year and a day,Strange countries for to see,A languishing thought came over his mind.His lady-love for to see-see-see,His lady-love for to see.So he rode and he rode on his milk-white steed,Till he came to London town,And there he heard the great church bell,And the people were gathered around-’round-’round,And the people were gathered around.“Oh, what is the matter?” Lord Lovell, he said,“And what is the matter?” said he.And then they said: “A lady is dead;Some called her the Lady Nancy-cy-cy,Some called her the Lady Nancy.”Lady Nancy, she died as it might be to-day,Lord Lovell, he died on the morrow;Lady Nancy, she died of pure, pure love,Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow-row-row,Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow.Lady Nancy was buried on one hill top;Lord Lovell was buried on t’other;And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,And out of her lover’s a brier-er-er,And out of her lover’s a brier.They grew and they grew, to the church steeple top,And they couldn’t grow any higher;And then they formed a true lover’s knot, knot,Which all true lovers admire-er-er,Which all true lovers admire.
Lord Lovell
Lord Lovell, he stood at his castle gate,A-combing his milk-white steed,When out came the lady Nancy Bell,To wish her lover good speed-speed-speed,To wish her lover good speed.
Lord Lovell, he stood at his castle gate,
A-combing his milk-white steed,
When out came the lady Nancy Bell,
To wish her lover good speed-speed-speed,
To wish her lover good speed.
“Oh, where are you going, Lord Lovell?” she said,“And where are you going?” said she.“I’m going away, Lady Nancy Bell,Strange countries for to see-see-see,Strange countries for to see.”
“Oh, where are you going, Lord Lovell?” she said,
“And where are you going?” said she.
“I’m going away, Lady Nancy Bell,
Strange countries for to see-see-see,
Strange countries for to see.”
And when he’d been gone a year and a day,Strange countries for to see,A languishing thought came over his mind.His lady-love for to see-see-see,His lady-love for to see.
And when he’d been gone a year and a day,
Strange countries for to see,
A languishing thought came over his mind.
His lady-love for to see-see-see,
His lady-love for to see.
So he rode and he rode on his milk-white steed,Till he came to London town,And there he heard the great church bell,And the people were gathered around-’round-’round,And the people were gathered around.
So he rode and he rode on his milk-white steed,
Till he came to London town,
And there he heard the great church bell,
And the people were gathered around-’round-’round,
And the people were gathered around.
“Oh, what is the matter?” Lord Lovell, he said,“And what is the matter?” said he.And then they said: “A lady is dead;Some called her the Lady Nancy-cy-cy,Some called her the Lady Nancy.”
“Oh, what is the matter?” Lord Lovell, he said,
“And what is the matter?” said he.
And then they said: “A lady is dead;
Some called her the Lady Nancy-cy-cy,
Some called her the Lady Nancy.”
Lady Nancy, she died as it might be to-day,Lord Lovell, he died on the morrow;Lady Nancy, she died of pure, pure love,Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow-row-row,Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow.
Lady Nancy, she died as it might be to-day,
Lord Lovell, he died on the morrow;
Lady Nancy, she died of pure, pure love,
Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow-row-row,
Lord Lovell, he died of sorrow.
Lady Nancy was buried on one hill top;Lord Lovell was buried on t’other;And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,And out of her lover’s a brier-er-er,And out of her lover’s a brier.
Lady Nancy was buried on one hill top;
Lord Lovell was buried on t’other;
And out of her bosom there grew a red rose,
And out of her lover’s a brier-er-er,
And out of her lover’s a brier.
They grew and they grew, to the church steeple top,And they couldn’t grow any higher;And then they formed a true lover’s knot, knot,Which all true lovers admire-er-er,Which all true lovers admire.
They grew and they grew, to the church steeple top,
And they couldn’t grow any higher;
And then they formed a true lover’s knot, knot,
Which all true lovers admire-er-er,
Which all true lovers admire.
The tune is even more ridiculous than the words, and the repetition in each stanza is positively ludicrous.
Next in our esteem was a comic hunting song, of which I recall these stanzas:
They hunted and they hollered,And the first thing they did findWas a frog in the marshes,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was a frog,And some said nay;Some said it was a birdWith its feathers shot away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas the moon in the elements,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was the moon,And some said nay;Some said it was a cheeseWith the half cut away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas a barn in the meadow,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was a barn,And some said nay;Some said it was a churchWith the steeple blown away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas an owl in the bushes,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was an owl,And some said nay.Some said it wasthe DevilAnd they all ran away!Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
They hunted and they hollered,And the first thing they did findWas a frog in the marshes,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was a frog,And some said nay;Some said it was a birdWith its feathers shot away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas the moon in the elements,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was the moon,And some said nay;Some said it was a cheeseWith the half cut away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas a barn in the meadow,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was a barn,And some said nay;Some said it was a churchWith the steeple blown away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas an owl in the bushes,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!Some said it was an owl,And some said nay.Some said it wasthe DevilAnd they all ran away!Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
They hunted and they hollered,And the first thing they did findWas a frog in the marshes,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
They hunted and they hollered,
And the first thing they did find
Was a frog in the marshes,
And that they left behind.
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was a frog,And some said nay;Some said it was a birdWith its feathers shot away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was a frog,
And some said nay;
Some said it was a bird
With its feathers shot away.
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas the moon in the elements,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
So they hunted and they hollered,
And the next thing they did find
Was the moon in the elements,
And that they left behind.
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was the moon,And some said nay;Some said it was a cheeseWith the half cut away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was the moon,
And some said nay;
Some said it was a cheese
With the half cut away.
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas a barn in the meadow,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
So they hunted and they hollered,
And the next thing they did find
Was a barn in the meadow,
And that they left behind.
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was a barn,And some said nay;Some said it was a churchWith the steeple blown away.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was a barn,
And some said nay;
Some said it was a church
With the steeple blown away.
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
So they hunted and they hollered,And the next thing they did findWas an owl in the bushes,And that they left behind.Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
So they hunted and they hollered,
And the next thing they did find
Was an owl in the bushes,
And that they left behind.
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was an owl,And some said nay.Some said it wasthe DevilAnd they all ran away!Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
Some said it was an owl,
And some said nay.
Some said it wasthe Devil
And they all ran away!
Look a-there, now! Look a-there!
This irreverent mention of His Satanic Majesty was, to our childish ears, almost an unpardonable sin, and we went to our little beds shuddering and confessing ourselves “miserable sinners,” even to have listened to such a word.
A third ballad seems to belong to old colonial times. It went thus:
In good old Colony times,When we were under the king,Three sons of Moore’s were turned out doorsBecause they could not sing, sing,Because they could not sing.The first one, he was a miller,And the second, he was a weaver,And the third one, he was a little tailor,With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,With the broadcloth under his arm.Now the miller, he stole corn,And the weaver, he stole yarn,And the little tailor, he stole broadcloth,For to keep these three rogues warm,For to keep these three rogues warm.But the miller got drowned in his pond,And the weaver got tangled in his yarn;And the devil clapped his claw on the little tailor,With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,With the broadcloth under his arm.
In good old Colony times,When we were under the king,Three sons of Moore’s were turned out doorsBecause they could not sing, sing,Because they could not sing.The first one, he was a miller,And the second, he was a weaver,And the third one, he was a little tailor,With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,With the broadcloth under his arm.Now the miller, he stole corn,And the weaver, he stole yarn,And the little tailor, he stole broadcloth,For to keep these three rogues warm,For to keep these three rogues warm.But the miller got drowned in his pond,And the weaver got tangled in his yarn;And the devil clapped his claw on the little tailor,With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,With the broadcloth under his arm.
In good old Colony times,When we were under the king,Three sons of Moore’s were turned out doorsBecause they could not sing, sing,Because they could not sing.
In good old Colony times,
When we were under the king,
Three sons of Moore’s were turned out doors
Because they could not sing, sing,
Because they could not sing.
The first one, he was a miller,And the second, he was a weaver,And the third one, he was a little tailor,With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,With the broadcloth under his arm.
The first one, he was a miller,
And the second, he was a weaver,
And the third one, he was a little tailor,
With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,
With the broadcloth under his arm.
Now the miller, he stole corn,And the weaver, he stole yarn,And the little tailor, he stole broadcloth,For to keep these three rogues warm,For to keep these three rogues warm.
Now the miller, he stole corn,
And the weaver, he stole yarn,
And the little tailor, he stole broadcloth,
For to keep these three rogues warm,
For to keep these three rogues warm.
But the miller got drowned in his pond,And the weaver got tangled in his yarn;And the devil clapped his claw on the little tailor,With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,With the broadcloth under his arm.
But the miller got drowned in his pond,
And the weaver got tangled in his yarn;
And the devil clapped his claw on the little tailor,
With the broadcloth under his arm, arm,
With the broadcloth under his arm.
There were many others, but I do not remember them well enough to write them out. Barbara Allen was a great favorite, but with that all are familiar.
Occasionally, as a great treat, Mammy would unbend sufficiently to let us have some of the little negroes from the quarters come down to the house and sing for us, and while we loved Mammy’s old-fashioned ditties best, we were always vastly entertained by such coon songs as
Snake baked a hoe-cake,An’ set the frawg to mind it.Lizard come an’ stole it,An’ frawg, he couldn’t find it!
Snake baked a hoe-cake,An’ set the frawg to mind it.Lizard come an’ stole it,An’ frawg, he couldn’t find it!
Snake baked a hoe-cake,An’ set the frawg to mind it.Lizard come an’ stole it,An’ frawg, he couldn’t find it!
Snake baked a hoe-cake,
An’ set the frawg to mind it.
Lizard come an’ stole it,
An’ frawg, he couldn’t find it!
And this, with accompaniment of patting and shuffling:
Wake up, Jacob, let’s go hunt’n’,An’ ketch us a skel’ton to cook with a punk’n.Wake up, Amos, day is a-breakin’,Peas in the pot an’ hoe-cake a-bakin’.
Wake up, Jacob, let’s go hunt’n’,An’ ketch us a skel’ton to cook with a punk’n.Wake up, Amos, day is a-breakin’,Peas in the pot an’ hoe-cake a-bakin’.
Wake up, Jacob, let’s go hunt’n’,An’ ketch us a skel’ton to cook with a punk’n.
Wake up, Jacob, let’s go hunt’n’,
An’ ketch us a skel’ton to cook with a punk’n.
Wake up, Amos, day is a-breakin’,Peas in the pot an’ hoe-cake a-bakin’.
Wake up, Amos, day is a-breakin’,
Peas in the pot an’ hoe-cake a-bakin’.