Professional Documents
Culture Documents
NARRATIVE:
EPIC
Plantation Tamerlaine
by Dondi
A tale I am about to tell,
Of one adventure great.
So sit right down and listen close,
And try not to be late.
It started on a fair spring morn,
She climbed down from her bed.
She dressed herself and brushed the hair,
Upon her fair skinned head.
Her face like alabaster was,
Her eyes were sapphire blue.
Her eyes were focused on the frame,
Which held her love so true.
Will he be home today, she mused,
If so, will he be well?
The last good look she had of him.
He marched off into hell.
Why do these men go off to war?
Why try to maim and kill?
Just sit here in this mansion grand,
Upon this Georgia hill.
He had no slaves to fight to keep,
Just land and fields to tend.
It is a shame that when its done,
The wounded may not mend.
She had a muffin and some tea,
And walked to the front door.
She walked around the bloodstain spot,
Upon the hard pine floor.
Her son had fallen down the stairs,
One year ago today.
She went outside to see the cross,
Out where his body lay.
For two long years her man was gone,
To join in this damned fight.
When would these men just get a mind,
BALLAD
Told to me by Mrs. J.W. Thompson, Big Stone Gap, Virginia, on October
21, 1941, after an all night visit at their home in that place. She gives me
herewith a version which she had written down on paper belonging to her
oldest daughter, Lucille, who is now married and living in Bristol, VaTenn., and who was educated at Big Stone Gap High School, Virginia
Intermont College and Johnson City Business College. Like the members of
her family before her she was interested in Folk Tales and Lore and in her
spare time stowed away some old prints, clippings, original manuscripts etc.
She wrote this version for a friend and after her Mother heard it read several
times she also had a copy stowed away for her own benefit. However it
may be necessary to note that in this version of this Song the Randal is
spelled with only one "L".
"Lord Randal"
by Arthur Rackham
I
Oh where have you been Lord Randal, my
son?
And where have you been my handsome
young man?
I have been at the greenwood; mother, make
my bed soon,
For I am sick with huntin' and fain would lie
down.
II
And what met you there Lord Randal, my
son?"
And what met you there, my handsome
young man?
Oh I met with my true-love; mother, make
my bed soon.
For I am sick with huntin' and fain would lie
down.
III
And what did she give you, Lord Randal, my
son?
And what did she give you, my handsome
young man?
Eels fried in a pan; mother, make my bed
soon,
For I am sick with huntin' and fain would lie
down.
IV
And what got your leavins, Lord Randal, my
son?
And what got your leavins, my handsome
young man.
My hawks and my hounds; mother, make my
bed soon,
lie down.
X
What did you leave to your true-love, Lord
Randal, my son?
What did you leave to your true-love, my
handsome young man?
I leave her hell and fire; mother, make my
bed soon,
For I am sick with at the heart and fain would
lie down.
Note:
Mrs. Thompson tells me that her daughter was
taught in School that the boy Lord Randal was
poisoned by his sweetheart, that fain meant
gladly and that leavins were lover-over scraps
from a meal. JMH.
Metrical Tale
Edmund and Helen - A Metrical Tale
Canto First
Come, sit thee by me, love, and thou shalt hear
A tale may win a smile and claim a tearA plan and simple story, told in rhyme,
As sang the minstrels of the olden time.
No idle Muse I'll needlessly invokeNo patron's aid to steer me from the rock
Of cold neglect round which oblivion lies;
But loved one, I will look into thine eyes,
From which young poesy first touched my soul,
And bade the burning words in numbers roll;-They were the light in which I learned to sing;
And still to thee will kindling fancy clingGlow at thy smile, as when, in younger years,
I've seen thee smiling through thy maiden tears,
Like a fair floweret bent with morning dew;
While sunbeams kissed its leaves of loveliest hue.
Thou wert the chord and spirit of my lyreThy love the living voice that breathed "aspire!"That smoothed ambition's steep and toilsome height.
Metrical Romance
Lyrical
Songs
Ode