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Lyr Add: Scotland Man (Child #68, from G Landers)

DigiTrad:
FALSE LADY
FALSE TRUE LOVE
THE LORD OF SCOTLAND
YOUNG HUNTING
YOUNG HUNTING 2
YOUNG REDIN


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Tune Req: Young Redin (12)


Roberto 08 Dec 05 - 02:04 PM
Susan of DT 08 Dec 05 - 05:44 PM
Malcolm Douglas 09 Dec 05 - 03:44 AM
Roberto 24 Dec 05 - 11:25 AM
GUEST 22 Apr 19 - 12:57 AM
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Subject: Lyr Add: SCOTLAND MAN (Child #68, from G Landers)
From: Roberto
Date: 08 Dec 05 - 02:04 PM

THE SCOTLAND MAN - sung by George Landers, Marshall, N.C., on High Atmosphere (Rounder) and Dark Holler (Folkways). It is a version of Child n°68 (Young Hunting). Very difficult to me. I've written what I can get, but there are much more "s" sounding small words here and there (says? said?) and I'm not sure of too many lines to put question marks on some specific one. Please, someone who can listen to this recording, help me correct this transcription. Thank you. R

Come in, come in, my own true love
And stay all the night with me
For I have a bed and a very fine bed
I'll give it up to thee, thee
I'll give it up to you

I can't come in, I ain't a-coming in
To stay all the night with you
For I have a wife in Old Scotland
This night she weeps for me, -e
This night she weeps for me

She drew her little penknife
She pressed it through his heart
She cried out with her low, low voice:
There's a dead man in my house, house
There's a dead man in my house

She picked him up by the middle very small
She picked him up by his feet
She tossed him in a deep dry well
Just about eighteen feet, feet
Just about eighteen feet

She was headin' in her ... little door
Thinking on what she had done
She saw a pretty little bird
All on the leaves so green, green
All on the leaves so green

Come here, come here, my pretty little bird
And perch all on my thumb
I have a cage and a very fine cage
I will give it up to thee, thee
I will give it up to you

I can't come down, no I ain't a-coming there
To perch – said - all on your thumb
For you'd rob me of my tender little heart
Just like the Scotland man, man
Just like the Scotland man

If I had my bow and arrow
My arrow and my string
I'd shoot you right to your tender little heart
Just like the Scotland man, man
Just like the Scotland man

If you had your bow and arrow
Your arrow and your string
I'd fly away to the heaven so high
I'd never be seen any more, more
I'd never be seen any more


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Subject: Lyr Add: YOUNG HUNTING (Child #68, from S K Adams)
From: Susan of DT
Date: 08 Dec 05 - 05:44 PM

Roberto

Here is Sheila kay Adams version, that sounds similar, that I have ready for the next edition of the DT:

YOUNG HUNTING

Come in, come in, my old true love
And spend this night with me
For I have a bed, it's a very fine bed
I'll give it up for thee, thee
I'll give it up for thee

It's I can't come in, no, I ain't comin' in
To spend this night with thee
For I have a wife in the Old Scotland
This night she waits for me, me
This night she waits for me

It's she drawed out her little penknife
It a-being both keen and sharp
She step-ped up to her own true love
And stabbed him through his heart, heart
She stabbed him through his heart

Woe be, woe be, Lady Margaret – he cried
Woe be, woe be to thee
For there ain't no wife in the whole country
That I loved any better than thee, thee
That I loved any better than thee

Be still, be still, my old true love
One hour or two or three
And I will send for a doctor near
To save the life of thee, thee
To save the life of thee

It's I can't live, nor I won't live
From the wound you've given me
No doctor's hand, only God's own hand
Could save my life for me, me
Could save my life for me

It's she cried out to a servant maid:
This thing I promise thee
If you'll help me on this dark night
My gown I'll give to thee, thee
My gown I'll give to thee

It's she took a-hold of his long yellow hair
And the other took up his feet
The throwed him into the old dry-well
Which was so cold and deep, deep
Which was so cold and deep

Lay there, lay there, my own false love
Till the flesh rots off'n your bones
And the little ol' wife in the Old Scotland
Shall mourn for your return, -turn
Shall mourn for your return

Up spoke, up spoke a pretty little bird
All from the willow tree
There weren't no girl in the Old Scotland
That he loved any better than thee, thee
That he loved any better than thee

Fly down, fly down, my pretty little dove
And perch upon my knee
I'll give you a cage of the purest gold
Sure beats that willow tree, tree
Sure beats that willow tree

I won't come down, no, I ain't comin' down
To perch upon thy knee
For you just murdered your own true love
The same you'd serve to me, me
The same you'd serve to me

It's I'll go and get my arrow and my bow
My arrow and my string
An' I'll shoot you through your tender little heart
You never more shall sing, sing
You never more shall sing

While you go to get your arrow and your bow
Your arrow and your string
I'll fly away on my two little wings
Forever more I'll sing, sing
Forever more I'll sing


transcribed from Sheila Kay Adams My Dearest Dear CD, which was issued in 2000
Notes say these lyrics are taken from Sharp's English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians

An accompanied version appears on the 2004 CD, All the Other Fine Things, by Shela Kay Adams. On this version, the wording is a bit different and Sheila Kay leaves off the last five verses.

Child #68
@murder @talkbird
filename[ YNGHUNT6
JO


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Landers' The Scotland Man #68
From: Malcolm Douglas
Date: 09 Dec 05 - 03:44 AM

That text appears to be a collation made from parts of several of those published by Sharp. Whose tune was used? He printed fourteen.


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Landers' The Scotland Man #68
From: Roberto
Date: 24 Dec 05 - 11:25 AM

Few steps forward. The main problem pointed out with a question mark. Please, someome who can listen to the recording, on Dark Holler (Smithsonian Folkways) or on High Atmosphere (Rounder)!

Come in, come in, my own true love
And stay all the night with me
For I have a bed and a very fine bed
I'll give it up to thee, thee
I'll give it up to you

I can't come in, I ain't a-coming in
To stay all the night with you
For I have a wife in the Old Scotland
This night she weeps for me, -e
This night she weeps for me

It's out she drew her little penknife
She pressed it through his heart
She cried out with her low, low voice:
There's a dead man in my house, house
There's a dead man in my house

She picked him up by the middle very small
She picked him up by his feet
She tossed him in a deep dry well
Just about eighteen feet, feet
Just about eighteen feet

She was headin' in her poor (?) little door
Thinking on what she had done
She saw a pretty little bird
All among the leaves so green, green
All among the leaves so green

Come here, come here, my pretty little bird
And perch all on my thumb
I have a cage and a very fine cage
I will give it up to thee, thee
I will give it up to you

I can't come down, no I ain't a-coming there
To perch – said - all on your thumb
For you'd rob me of my tender little heart
Just like the Scotland man, man
Just like the Scotland man

If I had my bow and arrow
My arrow and my string
I'd shoot you right to your tender little heart
Just like the Scotland man, man
Just like the Scotland man

If you had your bow and arrow
Your arrow and your string
I'd fly away to the heaven so high
I'd never be seen any more, more
I'd never be seen any more


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Subject: RE: Lyr Req: Landers' The Scotland Man #68
From: GUEST
Date: 22 Apr 19 - 12:57 AM

Roberto--this is what I hear when I listen to the High Atmosphere recording (my additions in parentheses):

Come in, come in, my own true love
And stay all the night with me
For I have a bed and a very fine bed
I'll give it up to thee, thee
I'll give it up to you

I can't come in, I (h)ain't a-coming in
To stay all the night with you
For I have a wife in Old Scotland
This night she weeps for me, -e
This night she weeps for me

She (so she) drew her little penknife
She pressed (pierced) it through his heart
She cried out with her low, low (loud, loud) voice:
There's a dead man in my house, house
There's a dead man in my house

She picked him up by the middle very small
She picked him up by his feet
She tossed him (over) in a deep dry well
Just about eighteen feet, feet
Just about eighteen feet

She was headin' in her ... (sittin' in her poor ) little door
Thinking on what she had done
She saw a pretty little bird
All on the leaves so green, green
All on the leaves so green

Come here, come here, my pretty little bird
And perch all on my thumb
(It's) I have a cage and a very fine cage
I will give it up to thee, thee
I will give it up to you

I can't come down, no I (h)ain't a-coming there
To perch – said -(perched) all on your thumb
(Cause I'm afraid) For you'd rob me of my tender little heart
Just like the Scotland man, man
Just like the Scotland man

If I had my bow and arrow
My arrow and my string
(It's) I'd shoot you right to your (the) tender little heart
Just like the Scotland man, man
Just like the Scotland man

If you had your bow and arrow
Your arrow and your string
(It's) I'd fly away to - heaven so high
I'd never be seen any more, more
I'd never (ne'er) be seen any more


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