Sung by: Mr. J.A. Latham
Recorded in Batesville, AR 8/15/61

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Last Saturday evening I rambled out late,
And sad was my misfortune and cruel was my fate.
I went to Molly’s window, expecting to get in.
Instead of my joy, my sorrow did begin.

I waited my hours as patiently as Job
To see if my name was on her record.
There was another one enjoying of the room.
I’se taken to the road by the light of the moon.

I’se taken to the road, not knowing of the way,
My bottle in my pocket, as joyful as they.
I sit down yonder under a little shady grove,
A-drinking of my whiskey and a-thinking of my love.

So early next morning, as she came riding by,
Her red rosy cheeks and her black sparkling eyes,
Her colors they did vanish, but quickly come again.
Oh, love, it is a killing thing--did you ever feel the pain?

Green grows the laurel, likewise the willow tree.
How sorry was I when I parted with thee.
If you had of told me your love, it was not true,
I never would have placed my affections on you.

Perhaps you are waiting for some other high degree.
I can step as polite for you as you can for me.
I’ve gold in my pocket, and silver in my purse,
And since it is no better, I’m glad it is no worse.

I wish I was a fisherman, and on the seaside,
And Molly was a trout come floating down the tide.
I’d cast my net around her; I’d bring her to the shore.
I’d have my loving Molly, and I’d weep for her no more.

Also found in Belden, p. 194, “Last Friday Evening.”

All Songs Recorded by John Quincy Wolf, Jr., unless otherwise noted

The John Quincy Wolf Folklore Collection
Lyon College, Batesville, Arkansas
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