As a kind of footnote to my previous post about the songs associated with Dundee (Dundee Songs...Baffling Meanings?), here's two examples of the local muse expressed in the 19th century. The Banks of Sweet Dundee is pure soap opera in ballad form. First noted in the 1820s, this simple tale of good versus evil spread all over Britain and North America. But does it refer to our Scottish Dundee? The ballad seems to be British and there are no other British Dundees, but then again the description of the topography and its rural setting would seem to argue for a different place entirely, though we can't know for sure. In one source it is coupled with the intriguing ballad Smell! Smell! His breath! which, unfortunately, has no local connection.
It's of a farmer's daughter,
So beautiful I'm told,
Her parents died and left her
Five hundred pounds of gold.
She lived with her uncle,
The cause of all her woe,
And you soon shall hear this maiden fair
Did prove his overthrow.
Her uncle had a plough boy,
Young Mary loved full well,
And in her uncle's garden,
Their tales of love would tell.
And there was a wealthy squire,
Who often came her to see,
But still she loved the plough boy,
On the banks of sweet Dundee.
It was one summer's morning,
Her uncle went straight away.
He knocked at her bedroom door,
And thus to her did say,
'Come rise up pretty maiden,
A lady you may be.
The squire is waiting for you,
On the banks of sweet Dundee.'
'A fig for all your squires,
Your lords and dukes likewise,
My William's hand appears to me,
A diamond in my eyes.'
'Begone, unruly female,
You ne'er shall happy be,
For I mean to banish William
From the banks of sweet Dundee.'
Her uncle and the squire
Rode out one summer's day.
Young William he's in favour,
Her uncle he did say.
'Indeed, 'tis my intention
To tie him to a tree,
Or else to bribe the pressgang
On the banks of sweet Dundee.'
The pressgang came to William
When he was all alone.
He fought boldly for his liberty,
But they were three to one.
The blood did flow in torrents.
'Come kill me now,' said he.
'I would rather die for Mary,
On the banks of sweet Dundee.'
This maid was one day walking,
Lamenting for her love.
She met the wealthy squire
Down in her uncle's grove
'Stand off, base man,' said she.
'You sent the only lad I love
From the banks of sweet Dundee.
He clasped his arms around her
And tried to throw her down,
Two pistols and a sword she spied
Beneath his morning gown.
Young Mary took his weapons,
His swords he used so free,
But she did fire and shot the squire
On the banks of sweet Dundee.
Her uncle overheard the noise,
He hastened to the ground.
'Since you have killed the squire
I'll give you your death wound.'
'Stand off then,' said young Mary,
'Undaunted I will be.'
The trigger she drew and her uncle slew,
On the banks of sweet Dundee.
The doctor soon was sent for,
A man of noted skill.
Likewise came the lawyer
For him to make his will.
He willed his gold to Mary,
Who fought so manfully,
And now she lives quite happily
On the banks of sweet Dundee.
An alternative version of this ballad is known as 'Undaunted Mary'. It was collected by William Barrett from a seaman in 1877. (The words and audio file can be accessed here.) Other versions are known from the Appalachians and Nova Scotia.
The second ballad, The Bonnie Wee Lochee Lass, was in oral circulation well into the 20th century and tells of a more straightforward romantic encounter, a cross-cultural tryst between the eponymous last and a lad across the border in Dundee.
It fell upon a Lammas nicht now ai went oot for a stroll,
I hadna walked sae very far when I wandered doon by the toll,
I’d only gaed one mile or two when a bonnie fair I did pass,
’Twas there I fell in love wi a bonnie wee Lochee Lass.
“Now whaur are ye gaun? Gie me yer han’, hoo dae ye dae?” says I,
“Haud up yer head ma bonnie wee lass, now dinna be sae shy,
Now whaur dae ye bide? Whaur dae ye stay? Come tell tae me yer name,
Will yer father no be angry now if ai was tae tak ye hame?”
We sat, we cracked a guid lang while aboot a thing or twa,
We cracked an cracked until we saw the stars had gaen awa,
She drew her shawl aroon her head and quietly she did explain,
Says she, “Young man ye’ll keep yer word, for ye promised tae tak me hame.”
An now we two are married an happy as we can be,
She’s got twa children by her side, another one on her knee,
We laugh an crack at oor fireside an think o the times that have passed,
I’ll never forget the nicht I fell in love wi ma Lochee Lass
No comments:
Post a Comment