| Author | Topic: Add: Dabbling in the Dew [Rolling in the Dew] | |
| dmcg | Posted - 07 Nov 02 - 01:27 pm | |
Dabbling in the Dew [Rolling in the Dew] Oh, where are you going to, my pretty little dear With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? I'm going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Oh, may I go with you, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? Oh, you may go with me, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. And what is your father, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? My father's a farmer, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. And what is your mother, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair: My mother's a dairymaid, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. If I should chance to kiss you, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? The wind may take it off again, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Oh say, will you marry me, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair: Oh yes, if you please, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Oh, will you be constant, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? Oh, that I cannot promise you, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Then I won't marry you, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair. Oh, nobody asked you, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Source: One Hundred English Folksongs, Ed C Sharp, ISBN 0-486-23192-5 Notes: Cecil Sharp's notes follow:
The "unconventional" words are in the version most commonly sung now, "Rolling in the Dew". I do not have access to a version here so I add them later. Database entry is here Edited By dmcg - 11/7/2002 2:03:44 PM | ||
| dmcg | Posted - 07 Nov 02 - 03:40 pm | |
Here are some words for "Rolling in the Dew". This version is from Bob Copper,about 1954, from a book left by John Johnson (right), 1865-1943, in Fittleworth, Sussex: see Chapter Nine, pp. 83-9, of Songs and Southern Breezes for the details; and the appendix for these words. I do not claim that these words fit the tune exactly; perhaps someone has the version of the song as Sharp originally collected it. O where are you going, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? O I am going a milking, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. Shall I go along with you, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? Just as you please, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. Supposing I should lay you down, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? Then you would have to pick me up again, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. Supposing you should be with child, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? Then you would be the father of it, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. What would you do for linen, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? My father he's a linen draper, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. What would you do for a cradle, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? My brother he's a basket-maker, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. Supposing I should go to sea, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? Then I might follow after you, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. Supposing I should jump overboard, my sweet and pretty fair maid, With your red rosy cheeks and your curly black hair? Then the Devil would jump after you, Kind sir, she answered me, For rolling in the dew makes the milkmaids so fair. Edited By dmcg - 11/7/2002 3:45:20 PM | ||
| Malcolm Douglas |
Posted - 07 Nov 02 - 05:55 pm | |
Roud 298. The set in One Hundred English Folk Songs was originally found more or less as follows: Dabbling in the Dew. O where are you going to, my pretty little dear With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? I'm going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me, But it's dabbling in the dew where you might find me. Shall I carry your pail then, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? O no sir, O no sir, I'll carry it myself, But it's dabbling in the dew where you might find me. Suppose I was to kiss you, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? That would be no harm, sir, she answered me. But it's dabbling in the dew where you might find me. Suppose I was to throw you down, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? So you must help me up again, sir, she answered me. But it's dabbling in the dew where you might find me. Suppose you're in the family way, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? You'll have to stand the father of it, sir, she answered me. But it's dabbling in the dew where you might find me. Suppose I was to run away, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? Then I must run the faster, sir, she answered me. But it's dabbling in the dew where you might find me. Suppose I was to run too fast, my pretty little dear, With your red rosy cheeks and your coal black hair? O the devil would fetch me back again, sir, she answered me. But it's dabbling in the dew where you might find me. Noted by Cecil Sharp from John Swain at Donyatt, Somerset, 25 December 1904. Nine versions appear in Cecil Sharp's Collection of English Folk Songs (ed. Maud Karpeles, 1974). Only this, and a set noted from Jim Thomas at Camborne, Cornwall, 6 July 1914, have full texts attached. And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair occurs in several, and has been borrowed from one or another for the collated text published. James Reeves (The Idiom of the People, 1958) comments: "Sharp first printed this in Folk Songs from Somerset, II, 1905, with the following notes on the words: They are quite unsuitable for publication, so Mr Marson has rewritten the ballad, retaining the first verse only and the refrain. Marson's insipid text was indeed so remote from the original that in English Folk Songs, Selected edition, 1921, Vol. I, [the same as in 100, the American edition] Sharp abandoned it and printed a text based largely on that given in Halliwell's Nursery Rhymes of England (1842). "Other printed texts, however, e.g. those in the Journal of the Folk Song Society, No. 17, 1913, are not at all free and unconventional in this sense. They show considerable variation, implying some editorial imgenuity on the part of collectors." Here, for your amusement, is the text invented by the Rev. Marson: O where are you going to, my pretty little dear, With your red rosie cheeks and your coal-black hair? I'm going a-milking, kind sir, she answered me, And it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Suppose I were to clothe you, my pretty little dear, In a green silken gown and the amethyst rare? O no, sir, O no, kind sir, she answered me, For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Suppose I were to carry you, my pretty little dear, In a chariot with horses, a grey gallant pair? O no, sir, O no, kind sir, she answered me, For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. Suppose I were to feast you, my pretty little dear, With dainties on silver, the whole of the year? O no, sir, O no, kind sir, she answered me, For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. O but London's a city, my pretty little dear, And all men are gallant and brave that are there. O no, sir, O no, kind sir, she answered me, For it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. O fine clothes and dainties and carriages so rare Bring grey to the cheeks and silver to the hair. What's a ring on the finger, if rings are round the eye? But it's dabbling in the dew makes the milkmaids fair. From English Folk-Songs for Schools, eds. Baring Gould and Sharp, 1905. | ||
| masato sakurai | Posted - 22 Apr 03 - 03:44 pm | |
There's a Cornish version (with Cornish words) in Harold Boulton's Songs of the Four Nations (2nd ed., J.B. Cramer, 1892, pp. 58-60; with music):
Edited By masato sakurai - 22/04/2003 15:52:08 | ||