(FAIR MARGARET AND SWEET WILLIAM)
Sung by: Mrs. Arimintie Sutton
Recorded in Pfeiffer, AR, 7/9/52
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A-combing of her bright, curly hair,
When she seen sweet Willie and his own true love
Go a-riding up to church together.
Down she threw her velvet comb,
And back she threw her hair;
And she says to herself in a high window,
Saying, "I will never go there."
The days passed on and the hour come on . . . drew near
When all young men should arise.
Sweet Willie, he rose, and he slipped on his clothes
And he throwed . . . on his head.
Is she in the nearest room,
Or is she in the hall?
She's neither in the nearest room,
Neither is she in the hall;
But she lies cold in a winding sheet
In the upper room above.
"Lay back, lay back those snowy white sheets,
All made of linen so fine;
And let me kiss those cold clay lips,
For ofttimes they've kissed mine."
Three times, three times, he kissed her cheeks,
Three times, three times, he kissed her lips
Saying there's no . . .
Lady Margaret was buried in her little church yard
In a little graveyard by . . .
Willie was buried there too.
There was a red rose sprung from out of her grave,
And a briar from out of his.
They grew and they grew 'til they grew so high
And couldn't grow no more . . .
They grew and they grew 'til they could not grow no more
And of course couldn't grow no more.
They lapped and they tied in a true lover's knot,
That some young people admired.
Also found in Child, #74; Randolph, Vol. I, #16, "Lady Margaret"; Brown, Vol. II, #20, "Fair Margaret and Sweet William"; Belden, p. 48, "Fair Margaret and Sweet William."