The wandering ballad singer; English ballads II

And the road again my boy is I logged in. If the other be there I'll call my hair and I'll log again. Washington State University presents a wandering ballad singer Barry Tobin with songs that vividly describe the history and folklore of a pioneering country. In the folklore of many countries the bird plays the part of the Messenger of the soul in Germanic mythology the souls of suicides fly about as crows and ravens while innocent victims of murder take the form of white doves and swans King Arthur suppose in some tales to change to a raven that various gods such as Horus and quotes Al Quada appeared in the form of birds. Even back as far as ancient Egypt we see the animate part of the soul the body depicted as a bird in hieroglyphics. So in many ballads of olden times it's not surprising to see a bird

appear right after a murder and make some comment or complaint to the murderer. It's safe to assume that at least in some cases the bird is more than an observer. He's the return soul. I think there's always our version of young hunting for instance. I got this one from folk singer Johnny O'Bryant of Wichita. She calls it love and Henry knows a couple other things in this ballad too parallel to the primitive custom of throwing a corpse in the water as a rain charm and the archaic German endings and some of the verbs. There is a boy you or me. But I had to lie down.

Did he die. Girl they are 10 saw a life long for me common home. Then he gone or the whore this saddo and just her 1 2 and 3 0. 0 0 from her side walk me love me. And ride a b need

a new world. Girl I'm in love with long for you. Come and go and ride on Lady far right and or I need a song for you my heart's blood. Run him by some to him by. Throwing them in the dark

rivers which run solos and live live there. Till the meat arrives. Soft bone of your bone and your. Girl long boy home flight out on the ride and her job upon. Me. You're aged with me. Fine go and the bar. But I will fly down

to her on your knee or just seen you murder. Your own true love you. A little bird like me. Oh how I wish I had cedar. Oh. My. My. You're through that which we do you know. Cedar all round to yours.

So birds right here Tom. In pre-Christian time certain plants had a religious significance to nature worshippers and in parts of England and Scotland today thorn trees and willows are still the objects of some veneration. One sacred plant to the Celts was the holly the cutting of this plant might well be the crux of this ballot in which Edward killed his brother out of religious necessity. What is that blot on the point of your knife. My eyes saw me. Why this little coon dog who chased the fox

for me mooch the horn the values to the red boy. Roll the comb my son out to me. And blood of my own who apply the feels for me me me and you with me. That is to read. Boy or girl. Or my son. Now tell me. Well then the beloved of my brother who hold to the core with me to the core with me. What did you fall out about my

son. My eyes saw and pleased outta me. Well big as he cut yonder with which my band which my note what will you say when your father comes home. Oh. When he comes home from Tom Owen I'll just set my foot into yonder boat and say. Leo and Rohan Rohan wrong and all. When will you come back my own song. My son please tell me. When the sun sets in yonder sycamore

tree and show no. Me and me. Here's a ballad that tells the story of a man who wasn't paid for a job he had done and tells what he did about it. I suppose you might call it the first labor management dispute in ballad form but there's a hint of something deeper than the argument over lost wages in the middle of the BALLOT BOWL Bacon's the stonemason asks for a silver basin to catch the lady's blood. Some people see in this the effort of a leper to obtain clean blood for a cure. Others see the hand of a forgotten sacrificial right. Bowie was a fine Mason has never led St.. He built a fine castle but hey he got oh

where is the gentleman is at home. He has gone to London but I visit his son. Then where is the hollow. He is up stairs asleep. Said the false nurse to him. I was showing it on the subject are it is this. We you stick her little baby. Well let me toes and. They took her little baby book needle in. Both ends there are the false nurse signing your love from every hole in that creed of the red blood out sprang. Down come our good lady to see what's the harm.

Bowing and he took her in his arms. Both voting ends for my life for an hour. I give you my daughter. My own little love you'd better save that little daughter through the flood. Fetch me a silver basin to get your heart's blood. But the daughter to the towers so my speired her dear father. Harm. Oh mother of Father can you blame me. Oh the bully has killed your

baby me. Holy Father father. Can you blame me. Oh Bode has killed your whole bodega from the see gallows tree tied the false nurse. To the steak done to me. More about ballads and folk songs next time we meet the road again mob or if the weather is a bear I'll call my hair and I'll walk.

From New York City to Buffalo I tramped it all over and slept in bring yards an old log barns until the break of day my clothes were torn my feet were sore but still I didn't complain. I got a lot of wisdom but Turkey. Listening in next week when Barry told been there a wandering ballad singer returns with more songs in balance the preceding was transcribed and was produced by the Radio TV services of Washington State University this is ne ne AB Radio Network.