(I'LL HANG MY HARP ON A WILLOW TREE)
Sung by: Mrs. Almeda Riddle
Recorded in Miller, AR 8/22/57
Click here to listen to the original recording
I am off to the wars again.
My peaceful home holds no charm for me,
And the battlefield no pain.
The lady I love will soon be a bride,
With a diadem on her brow.
Oh, why did she flatter my boyish pride?
She's going to leave me now.
She took me from a warlike lord
And gave me a silken suit,
And I cared no more for my master's sword
When I played on my mistress's flute.
She seemed to think me a boy above
Her pages of low degree.
Had I but loved with a boyish love,
It would have been better for me.
Yet I'll hide this breaking heart,
And I'll flush my pale cheeks with wine.
When smiles await the bridal pair,
I'll hasten and give them mine.
Then one tress of her golden hair I'll twine
In my helmet's saber plume;
Then out on the fields of Palestine
I'll seek me an early doom.
And, if by a Saracen's sword I fall,
'Mid the noble and the brave,
A tear from my lady love is all
I ask, and a warrior's grave.
Also found in Brown, Vol. III, #259, "I'll Hang My Harp on a Willow Tree."