181. Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard (Child #81) - (Traditional)

Описание: This ballad of love and murder has survived in many forms. I first heard it as "Matty Groves", sung by Joan Baez (1962). Other notable recordings are by John Jacob Nile (1956), Doc Watson (1966), Fairport Convention (1969), Martin Carthy (1969), Christy Moore (1976), and Planxty (1992).

Lyrics and chords:
.. Dm ............... Am .. Dm
It fell upon one holy day
......................... Am
As many in the year,
............................... C
And many to the church did go
.......... Dm ... C ......... Dm
Some holy words to hear.

Little Musgrave to the church did go,
And sat down in his place,
But he had more mind of the ladies fair
Than he had of our lady’s grace.

And some were dressed in velvet red
And some were dressed in Pall
And the last to come was Lord Barnard's wife,
The fairest among them all.

She cast an eye on Little Musgrave,
As bright as the summer sun;
Little Musgrave said to himself
"This lady's heart I’ve won."

“Good day to you, my handsome youth
God make you safe and free.
What would you give this day, Musgrave,
To lie one night with me?”

“I dare not for my lands, lady,
I dare not for my life,
For I see by the little ting you wear
You are Lord Barnard's wife.”

“Lord Barnard's to the hunting gone
And I hope he'll never return,
And you can slip into his bed
And keep his lady warm.

“I have a bower at Buckelsfordbery,
It is my heart’s delight
And I will take you back with me
To lie in my arms all night.”

But standing by was a little footpage,
From the lady's coach he ran.
'”Although I am my lady's page,
I am Lord Barnard's man.”

And when he came to the water wide
He fell on his belly and swam
And when he came to the other side
He took to his heels and ran.

And when he came to the green green wood
'It was dark as dark could be
And he found Lord Barnard and his men
Asleep beneath a tree.

“Rise up, rise up, my lord,” he said.
“Rise up and speak to me.
Your wife's in bed with Little Musgrave.
So rise up speedily.”

“If this be true, me little footpage,
This thing that you tell me,
All the gold in Buckelsfordbery
Gladly I'll give to thee.

“But if this be a lie, my little foot page,
This thing that you tell me,
From the highest tree in Buckelsfordbery,
Hanged you shall be.”

"Go saddle me the black,” he said.
“Go saddle me the grey
And sound you not the horn," he said
"Lest our coming you betray."

But there was a man in Lord Barnard's train
Who loved the little Musgrave
And he blew his horn both loud and shrill.
“Away, Musgrave, away.”

“I think I hear the morning ****,
I think I hear the jay;
I think I hear Lord Barnard's men,
And I wish I was away.”

“Lie still, lie still, my Little Musgrave,
And keep me from the cold;
It's nothing but a shepherd's boy,
A-bringing his flock to fold.

“Is not your hawk upon its perch?
Your steed eats oats and hay;
And you've a fair lady in your arms,
And yet you'd go away?”

So he's turned around and he's kissed her twice
And he fell fast asleep
And when he awoke Lord Barnard's men
Were standing at his feet.

"And how do you like my bed, Musgrave?
And how do you like my sheets?"
"And how do you like my lady fair
That lies in your arms asleep?"

“It's very well I like your bed
And it’s well I like your sheets,
But it’s better I like your lady fair
That lies in my arms asleep.”

“Rise up, rise up, little Musgrave,
As fast as ever you can;
In England it shall never be said
That I slew a naked man.”

“I have two swords down at my side,
And it’s dear they cost my purse;
And you shall have the best of them,
And I will take the worse.”

The first stroke Little Musgrave struck
It hurt Lord Barnard sore;
But the next stroke Lord Barnard struck,
Little Musgrave struck no more.

"How do you like his cheek, lady?
And how do you like his chin?
And how do you like his fair body,
Now there's no life within?"

"It's well I like his cheek," she said,
"And it’s well I like his chin,
And it’s better I like his fair body,
Than all your kith and kin."

"Ah, woe is me, and woe is thee.
Why stayed ye not your hand?
For you have killed the fairest lad
In all of England."

He's taken out his long, long sword,
To strike the mortal blow,
And through, and through the lady's heart
The cold steel it did go.

“Go dig a grave,' Lord Barnard cried,
"To put these lovers in,
But bury my lady at the top
For she was of noble kin."

“Oh, woe unto my merry men,
And woe unto my page,
That they didn’t hold my cursed hand
When I was in such rage.”

He leaned his halbert on the ground,
The point against his breast,
Saying, “These three souls have gone to Heaven.
God send them all to rest.”

You can watch a playlist of my renditions of the Child ballads:
http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list...

My website: https://raymondsfolkpage.wordpress.com