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Jellon Graeme Jellon Graeme sat in the wood, he whistled and he sang He called for his servant boy who quickly to him ran Hurry up, hurry up, my pretty little boy, as fast as ever you can You must run for Rosy Flower before the day is gone The boy buckled on his yellow belt and through the woods he sang Ran till he came to the lady's window before the day was gone Are you awake little Rosy Flower, the blood runs cold as rain I was asleep, but now I'm awake, who's that that calls my name? You must go to the Silver Wood, though you never come back again You must go to the Silver Wood to speak with Jellon Graeme I will go to the Silver Wood though I never come back again The man I most desire to see is my love, Jellon Graeme She had not rid about two long mile, it were not more than three Till she came to a new dug grave beneath the white oak tree Out and sprang young Jellon Graeme from out of the woods nearby Get down, get down, you Rosy Flower, it's here that you will die She jumped down from off her horse, then down upon her knee Pity on me, dear Jellon Graeme, I'm not prepared to die Wait until our babe is born and then you can let me lie If I should spare your life, he said, until our babe is born I know your pa and all your kin would hang me in the morn Pity on me, dear Jellon Graeme, my pa you need not dread I'll bear my baby in the Silver Wood and go and beg my bread No pity, no pity for Rosy Flower, on her knees she pray He stabbed her deep with the silver steel and at his feet she lay No pity, no pity for Rosy Flower, she was a lying dead But pity he had for his little young son a smothering in her blood He's torn the baby out of the womb, washed him in water and blood Named him after a robber man, he called him Robin Hood Then he took him to his house and set him on a nurse's knee He growed as much in a one year time as other ones do in three Then he took him to read and write and for to learn how to thrive He learned as much in the one year time as other ones do in five But I wonder now, said little Robin, if a woman did me bear Many a mother do come for the rest, but never one come for me It fell out in the summertime when they was a hunting game They stopped to rest in the Silver Wood, him and Jellon Graeme I wonder now, said little Robin, why my mammy don't come for me? To keep me hid in the Silver Wood, I calls it a cruelty But I wonder now, says little Robin, if the truth would ever be known Why all this woods is a growing green and under that tree there's none? You wonder now, said Jellon Graeme, Why your mammy don't come for thee Lo, there's the place I laid her low, right under that white oak tree The little boy chose him an arrow was both keen and sharp Laid his cheek all along the bow and pierced his father's heart Lie there, lie there, you Jellon Graeme, the grave you will never see The place where lies my mammy dear is far too good for thee I should have torn you out of the womb and thrown you upon a thorn Let the wind blow east and the wind blow west and left you to die alone Child #90 recorded by Peggy Seeger and Ewan MacColl on Blood and Roses see also Sheath and Knife Banks of the Roses SOF
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!