Page:Journal of American Folklore vol. 12.djvu/465

 Early American Ballads. 117

" O, whar hae ye been a' day, Lord Donald, my son ?

O whar hae ye been a' day, my jollie young man ? " " I 've been awa' courtin', mither, mak' my bed sune,

For I-'m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down."

" What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald, my son ?

What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man ? " " A dish o' sma fishes, mither, mak' my bed sune,

For I 'm sick at the heart, and fain wad lie down."

" O, I fear ye are poisoned, Lord Donald, my son, O, I fear ye are poisoned, my jollie young man."

" O yas, I am poisoned, mither, mak' my bed sune, For I 'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie down."

" What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son ?

What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man ? " " A tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree,

And lat her hang there for the poisoning o' me."

The many versions of the ballad offer an interesting example of variations in a song which must of necessity have had origin in the mind of a single English reciter, who doubtless gave it form as the translation of some version of the Continental ballad. The introduc- tion of fishes instead of serpents, as the means of poisoning, goes back to the European ballad.

Lam kin.

This savage history relates (Child, No. 93) how a mason (who may originally have himself been a knight) builds a castle for a nobleman, fails to obtain his pay, utters threats against the defaulter, and succeeds by the aid of a nurse in entering the castle of the lat- ter, where he stabs first a babe, and then the lady of the house, who is brought downstairs by the screams of her child ; the murderer is finally hanged, and the nurse burned at the stake. An American version has been furnished to Professor Child by Mrs. Emma M. Backus, as sung in North Carolina (v. 295). The ballad has also been sung by negroes of Prince William County, Virginia, who learned it from Scotch settlers (Child, iii. 515). The following variant is furnished by Mrs. M. L. Debarry, Rockport, 111., as sung in Central New York half a century ago, by an old servant. The tune is re- membered as quaint and doleful.

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