| ballad_workshop_fiddles_and_folklife_26.pdf |
I used to Wear My AProns Low
In 2019 I was privileged to get to learn from Bobby McMillon through the SouthArts In These Mountains: Folklife Apprenticeship grant. It's a terrifically important new program that pairs an apprentice with a master practitioner of folklife. In Bobby's case I was learning old ballads, folk songs, stories, and other relevant things. One day I had an idea to just ask Bobby point blank, "Well Bobby, what song would you like me to learn?" He didn't ponder on it much before leaning back against his recliner, closing his eyes, and singing this one--which he learned from his great aunt, Mae "Maw Maw" Phillips. I added the piedmont blues-ish accompaniment. Below you can find a video of me performing the song, a field recording made by Bobby of Maw Maw singing and working through remembering this song. I have often heard this melody associated with "the Butcher Boy" ballad.
I used to wear my apron low (x3)
My love follerd me through frost and snow
Now my apron’s to my chin (x3)
He passes my door but he won’t come in
He goes down to yonder’s town (x3)
Gets him a chair and he sets down
He takes some other girl on his knee (x3)
Tells her the things that he once told me
I wish to the lord my baby was born (x3)
And setting on his papa’s knee
And me poor girl, all dead and gone (x3)
And the green grass growing over my grave
He passed my door, and he made to run (x3)
But he didn't outrun my doberman
Now he goes down, to Yander's town (x3)
Has him a chair, but he cain't sit down.
Often if you hear me perform this song, I add two verses at the end in what I call "songwriter's vengeance." I thing folks should be very hesitant to edit or add new lyrics to old songs, but at the same time creative people do creative things. There is nothing new about the practice of reworking ballads. I try to be very transparent that I've changed something, and I also generally avoid making changes just to fit a song into modern sensibilities. A lot of these songs are brutal, bleak and tragic, and it was a reality of the difficult times they sprang out of. They also serve as a reminder that we have come a long, long way in women's rights particularly, and we need to fight like all hell to not regress.
My love follerd me through frost and snow
Now my apron’s to my chin (x3)
He passes my door but he won’t come in
He goes down to yonder’s town (x3)
Gets him a chair and he sets down
He takes some other girl on his knee (x3)
Tells her the things that he once told me
I wish to the lord my baby was born (x3)
And setting on his papa’s knee
And me poor girl, all dead and gone (x3)
And the green grass growing over my grave
He passed my door, and he made to run (x3)
But he didn't outrun my doberman
Now he goes down, to Yander's town (x3)
Has him a chair, but he cain't sit down.
Often if you hear me perform this song, I add two verses at the end in what I call "songwriter's vengeance." I thing folks should be very hesitant to edit or add new lyrics to old songs, but at the same time creative people do creative things. There is nothing new about the practice of reworking ballads. I try to be very transparent that I've changed something, and I also generally avoid making changes just to fit a song into modern sensibilities. A lot of these songs are brutal, bleak and tragic, and it was a reality of the difficult times they sprang out of. They also serve as a reminder that we have come a long, long way in women's rights particularly, and we need to fight like all hell to not regress.
| bmc08-1_01_i_used_to_wear_my_apron_low.mp3 |
I had a LIttle Rooster
I learned this from my dear friends Donna Ray Norton and Sheila Kay Adams. Music can be powerful medicine. When Sheila's first recalled hearing this lullaby as a little girl when her grandfather, "Breaddaddy" was walking her back and forth from the barn trying to lower her fever. She was terribly ill from one of those childhood plagues that so many families lost children to in those days. I am grateful for this song, and Breaddaddy's determination and the part they played so Sheila could grow up to be such a light in our corner of the world. My daughter Margot was born a month early, barely breathing, and when they placed her on the incubation table (whatever it's called), someone said, "William, sing her a song." so I started in on a little song we sang to her in the womb (not this one) and she just immediately opened up her eyes and her oxygen leapt up to 90 some percent. Like I said, songs can be powerful medicine.
I had a little rooster, and my rooster loved me
and I fed my rooster on the bay berry tree
my little rooster said Cock-a-doodle-doo-dee-doodle-ee- dooodle-ee--doodle-ee- aye.
I had a little pig, and my pig loved me
and I fed my pig on the bay berry tree
my little pig said *snort snort snort*
my little rooster said Cock-a-doodle-doo-dee-doodle-ee- dooodle-ee--doodle-ee- aye.
I had a little _______, and my _______ loved me
and I fed my _______ on the bay berry tree
my little ________ said _____ ______ ________
my little pig said *snort snort snort* (continue adding previous animals in a longer and longer list)
my little rooster said Cock-a-doodle-doo-dee-doodle-ee- dooodle-ee--doodle-ee- aye.
Continue to add to your list of animals as you go along. Feel free to get creative!
I had a little rooster, and my rooster loved me
and I fed my rooster on the bay berry tree
my little rooster said Cock-a-doodle-doo-dee-doodle-ee- dooodle-ee--doodle-ee- aye.
I had a little pig, and my pig loved me
and I fed my pig on the bay berry tree
my little pig said *snort snort snort*
my little rooster said Cock-a-doodle-doo-dee-doodle-ee- dooodle-ee--doodle-ee- aye.
I had a little _______, and my _______ loved me
and I fed my _______ on the bay berry tree
my little ________ said _____ ______ ________
my little pig said *snort snort snort* (continue adding previous animals in a longer and longer list)
my little rooster said Cock-a-doodle-doo-dee-doodle-ee- dooodle-ee--doodle-ee- aye.
Continue to add to your list of animals as you go along. Feel free to get creative!
Jimmy Ransome
Bobby learned this version of Lord Randall (Child 12) from Lou Brookshire in Caldwell County's King's Creek. "Aunt" Lou and her husband were born and raised in Caldwell, but like many families in the South (including Bobby's own) the Brookshires moved out to the West Coast for work. Lou's family's time out west, cutting hair in labor camps, might account for her sometimes unique repertoire of tunes and songs. This one, though, closely mirrors a version sang by another singer Bobby recorded in King's Creek: Tom Maltba. He would sing "A-courtin and A-sportin" or sometimes "Rambling and A-gambling" rather than "I've been to the wildwood." Lou Brookshire did not always remember very many lines to the old songs, but her tunes for the old ballads were often my favorite. There are still several from her repertoire that I hope to commit to memory. One last note, I did slow down this song and let it "breathe" a little more than the way Bobby sang it to me over the telephone.
Oh where you been rambling? Jimmy Ransome my son
Oh where you been rambling? My handsome young dun?
I been to the wildwood, mother make my bed down
For I’m wearied with hunting And I want to lie down
And who did you meet there?...
I met with my true love...
What’d you have for your supper...
Had eels fried in brew...
What’d you do with your leavings?
Fed them to my greyhounds,
What became of your bloodhounds?
They swelled and they died mother,
I fear you are poisoned,
Oh yes I am Pie-zoned,
What’d you leave your brother?
My wagon and team
What’d you leave your mother?
My house and my lands,
What’d you leave your father?
My Hawk and my Hounds
What’d you leave your sister?
My Silver and Gold,
What’d you leave your sweetheart?
Hellfire and brimstone to bake her bones down
For she was the reason that I'm laying down.
Oh where you been rambling? Jimmy Ransome my son
Oh where you been rambling? My handsome young dun?
I been to the wildwood, mother make my bed down
For I’m wearied with hunting And I want to lie down
And who did you meet there?...
I met with my true love...
What’d you have for your supper...
Had eels fried in brew...
What’d you do with your leavings?
Fed them to my greyhounds,
What became of your bloodhounds?
They swelled and they died mother,
I fear you are poisoned,
Oh yes I am Pie-zoned,
What’d you leave your brother?
My wagon and team
What’d you leave your mother?
My house and my lands,
What’d you leave your father?
My Hawk and my Hounds
What’d you leave your sister?
My Silver and Gold,
What’d you leave your sweetheart?
Hellfire and brimstone to bake her bones down
For she was the reason that I'm laying down.
Wild Bill Jones
I did some research to attempt to track down a "real life" William Jones who had been murdered at the age of "23" or "21" (singers differ), but the effort bore no fruit. Jones is one of the most common surnames in the U.S., and likewise, William was a very common name. Wild Bill is fairly well known now, but most versions stem from one or two influential recordings. This version, also from Bobby's great aunt Mae "Maw Maw" Phillips, is set to a waltz-time rather than the more upbeat 2/4 time it's typically played in. Viney Norton provided a version with different text but a similar tune for Cecil Sharp. Additionally, Bobby recalled hearing Byard Ray perform "Wild Bill Jones" to almost the same tune. There's an unusual section where the song goes to the chorus melody and breaks up the A B A B pattern.
One day when I was a walkin’ A-round
I met up with the Wild Bill Jones
He’s walkin’ and a talkin’ by my luler’s side
I forbid him to leave her alone
He said “young man, my age is 23,
Too old for to be controlled.”
I pulled my revolver from my side
And I killed that poor boys soul
**
He reeled he rocked
And He fell to the ground
He give one dying moan
He places his eyes on my lulu’s face
Says’ darlin you’re left alone
Soon the The handcuffs are placed
Tight around my arm
I was marched to the Franklin jail
No friends or relations
Standing ‘round
Nobody for to go my bail
I wrote my luler a letter boys
And this is what it said
Won’t you take back a word or two
Oh honey won’t you go my bail
She answered my letter in a sad reply
And this is what it said
“I guess you’re in trouble now poor boy
But never hang down your head.”
Got forty-nine dollars in my pocket
And forty-four in my hand
If you want to go boys with a rowdy crew
Then go with a gamblin man.
Bobby actually came across a lyric from another obscure version that fits in between there, but I preferred to do the song the same way as Maw Maw and Bobby. In case you want to learn this version (and I hope you do), and feel like there should be another verse before the "He reeled, he rocked" verse--here is the lyric:
**Wild Bill Jones was a very bad man
He carried two pistols every day
I beat him to mine, and killed him in time
and I blowed that boy away
One day when I was a walkin’ A-round
I met up with the Wild Bill Jones
He’s walkin’ and a talkin’ by my luler’s side
I forbid him to leave her alone
He said “young man, my age is 23,
Too old for to be controlled.”
I pulled my revolver from my side
And I killed that poor boys soul
**
He reeled he rocked
And He fell to the ground
He give one dying moan
He places his eyes on my lulu’s face
Says’ darlin you’re left alone
Soon the The handcuffs are placed
Tight around my arm
I was marched to the Franklin jail
No friends or relations
Standing ‘round
Nobody for to go my bail
I wrote my luler a letter boys
And this is what it said
Won’t you take back a word or two
Oh honey won’t you go my bail
She answered my letter in a sad reply
And this is what it said
“I guess you’re in trouble now poor boy
But never hang down your head.”
Got forty-nine dollars in my pocket
And forty-four in my hand
If you want to go boys with a rowdy crew
Then go with a gamblin man.
Bobby actually came across a lyric from another obscure version that fits in between there, but I preferred to do the song the same way as Maw Maw and Bobby. In case you want to learn this version (and I hope you do), and feel like there should be another verse before the "He reeled, he rocked" verse--here is the lyric:
**Wild Bill Jones was a very bad man
He carried two pistols every day
I beat him to mine, and killed him in time
and I blowed that boy away
Georgie
This old ballad (Child 209), might just be my favorite. It's a "collated text" Bobby put together from more than one source--though I lyrically it's mostly from Doc Watson's father-in-law Gaither Carlton. The tune, as I remember, was from a Virginia ballad singer. Bobby was an expert at ballad reconstruction. Like a genius antique restorer, he could build back to something whole and beautiful from fragments. That's *not* something to be done without careful consideration, and considerable skill and knowledge, and Bobby had dedicated his life to these songs. I love the way Bobby hang on some of the words and then dropped down like on the word "I" in the first verse in the line "I thought that I heard some pretty fair maid." It's actually a bit of a tricky thing to do. In some versions Georgie is actually freed by the king--but this is not one of those versions....
As I walked over London Bridge
So early in the morning
I thought I heard some fair young maid
Saying spare me the LIFE of Georgie
Go saddle me up my milk white steed
Go a bridle him so gayly
I’ll ride away to the kings high court
and plea for the life of Georgie
She rid all day and she rode all night
Til she was wet and weary
Then combing back her long yellow locks
She plead for the life of Georgie
She taken out a purse all filled with gold
Just like you’ve never seen any
And she said come lawyers unto yourselves
And plead for the life of Georgie
Then George rode up for to plea for hisself
Says I never did murder any
But I stole sixteen of the king white steeds
And I stole them in Boheemie
Then the oldest lawyer at the Bar
Says George I’m sorry for ye
But your own confession has condemned your to die
May the Lord have mercy on ye
As Georgie was walking through the town
He bid farewell to many
Then he bid farewell to his own true love
Which grieved him more than any
Georgie was hung with a golden chain
Just like you’ve never seen any
For he were a member of the royal race
And courted him a virtuous lady
If I were over on yanders hill
Where kisses i’ve had many
With my sword and my true love by my side
I’d fight for the life of Georgie
As I walked over London Bridge
So early in the morning
I thought I heard some fair young maid
Saying spare me the LIFE of Georgie
Go saddle me up my milk white steed
Go a bridle him so gayly
I’ll ride away to the kings high court
and plea for the life of Georgie
She rid all day and she rode all night
Til she was wet and weary
Then combing back her long yellow locks
She plead for the life of Georgie
She taken out a purse all filled with gold
Just like you’ve never seen any
And she said come lawyers unto yourselves
And plead for the life of Georgie
Then George rode up for to plea for hisself
Says I never did murder any
But I stole sixteen of the king white steeds
And I stole them in Boheemie
Then the oldest lawyer at the Bar
Says George I’m sorry for ye
But your own confession has condemned your to die
May the Lord have mercy on ye
As Georgie was walking through the town
He bid farewell to many
Then he bid farewell to his own true love
Which grieved him more than any
Georgie was hung with a golden chain
Just like you’ve never seen any
For he were a member of the royal race
And courted him a virtuous lady
If I were over on yanders hill
Where kisses i’ve had many
With my sword and my true love by my side
I’d fight for the life of Georgie
Bobby McMillon
For more of Bobby McMillon's music, check out the Southern Appalachian Archives at Mars Hill (you can also peruse this website, where I have uploaded a number of recordings and some of Bobby's writings.) Additionally, UNC houses a number of recordings by and of Bobby McMillon in the Dan and Bev Patterson Papers as well as the Bobby McMillon Collection there.