Here is the traditional folk song “Fair Margaret and Sweet William”. This song fascinates me, because it’s like a bizarre cross between “Matty Groves” and “Barbriallen”. Or rather, it’s like an alternate retelling of Barbriallen, with some stanzas from Matty Groves thrown into the middle. Which is weird. It also has a completely different (and very beautiful) tune.
Tagging house-carpenter because I am delighted to find someone who shares my fascination with English/Irish folk music and the way things change and evolve over time. =) (Have you noticed that “Shady Grove” has basically the same tune as “Matty Groves”? How the hell did that happen?!)
Also tagging somedaysiamspike because he likes songs about ghosts. =)
Lyrics (alternative versions can be here and here):
Sweet William arose one May morning, And dressed himself in blue, Come and tell to me all about that love Between Lady Marg'ret and you. O I know nothing of Lady Marg'ret's love And she knows nothing of me But in the morning at half-past eight Lady Marg'ret my bride shall see. Lady Marg'ret was sitting in her bower room A-combing back her hair, When who should she spy but Sweet William and his bride, As to church they did draw nigh. Then she threw down her ivory comb In silk bound up her hair. And out of the room that fair lady ran, And was never any more seen there. The day passed away and the night coming on And most of the men asleep, Sweet William espied Lady Marg'ret's ghost A-standing at his bed feet. O how do you like your bed? said she, And how do you like your sheets And how do you like that fair young bride A-laying in your arms at sleep? Full well do I like my bed, Full well do I like my sheet; But better do I like the fair young maid A-standing at my bed feet. The night passed away and the day coming on And most of the men awake. Sweet William said: I am troubled in my head By the dreams that I dreamed last night. Such dreams, such dreams as these, I know they mean no good, Last night I dreamed that my room was full of swine And my bride was floating in blood. He called his servants unto him, By one, by two, by three, And the last he called was his new made bride That he Lady Marg'ret might go see. O what will you do with Lady Marg'ret's love, And what will you do with me? He said: I'll go Lady Marg'ret see, And then I'll return to thee. He rode up to Lady Marg'ret's door, And jingled at the ring; And none was so ready as her seventh born brother To arise and let him in. O is she in her kitchen room? Or is she in her hall? Or is she in her bower room Among her merry maids all? She is neither in her kitchen room, She is neither in her hall; But she is in her cold coffin, With her pale face toward the wall. Pull down, pull down those winding-sheets A-made of satin so fine. Ten thousand times thou hast kissed my lips, And now, love, I'll kiss thine. Three times he kissed her snowy white breast, Three times he kissed her chin; But when he kissed her cold clay lips His heart it broke within. Lady Marg'ret was buried in the old church yard Sweet William was buried close beside her; And out of her grew a red, red, rose, And out of him a brier. They grew so tall and they grew so high, They scarce could grow no higher; And there they twined in a true lover's knot, The red rose and the brier.
Like seriously, what the hell. The plot is not exactly the same as Barbriallen, since in Barbriallen, Sweet William didn’t actually marry another woman (as far as I know; maybe there are versions where he did). But anyway, the plot is very similar, and both songs have the rose and the brier. (Except, in the version of Barbriallen that I know, it’s William who grows into a rose, and Barbriallen into a brier.)
And then you have two stanzas in the middle that seem remarkably similar to stanzas from Matty Groves, except they serve an entirely different purpose. For one thing, there’s two women instead of two men. And for another, William isn’t caught in bed with an extramarital affair; he’s caught in bed with his bride. Etc.
And then... look at these two stanzas:
O is she in her kitchen room? Or is she in her hall? Or is she in her bower room Among her merry maids all? She is neither in her kitchen room, She is neither in her hall; But she is in her cold coffin, With her pale face toward the wall.
These are sort of similar to the final two stanzas of “The Lover’s Ghost”:
It’s, “Where is your bed, my darling dear,“ he said, “And where are your white Holland sheets? And where are the maidens, my darling dear,” he said, “That will wait upon you while you are asleep?”
“Oh, the clay it is my bed, my dearest dear,” she said, “This shroud is my white Holland sheet. And the worms and creeping things are my servants, dear,” she said, “That will wait upon me while I am asleep.”
The resemblance is not as strong as with the other two, but it’s the same rhetorical technique: asking where the lady is (or where she’s going), painting this picture of a nice rosy life, and then startling the listener by revealing that she’s actually not there at all; she’s dead. The rhetorical technique is the startling contrast between the pleasant living world and the terrible dead one, I guess.
It seems pretty obvious that Barbriallen and Matty Groves influenced this song directly. It’s less clear whether The Lover’s Ghost did (especially since that seems to be a lesser-known song). But in any case, I am still going to declare this ballad the unholy amalgam of all other English folk songs. =)
