Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight

X:99
T:Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight
C:Trad
B:Bronson
O:Sharp MSS., 3702/2754. Also in Sharp and Karpeles, I932,
O:I, pp. I0(F)-II. Sung by Mrs. Joe Vanhook, Berea College,
O:Madison County, Ky., May 20, I9I7.
N:Versions of "The House Carpenter" (Child #243) resemble this tune.
M:4/4
L:1/4
K:Gdor
c | d d f =e | d d/d/ G G |
c c/d/ =e e | d3 B/c/ | d d c B |
G G/F/ D G | c c d/c/ A | G3 |]
W:
W:Come rise you up, my pretty Polly,
W:And go along with me.
W:I'll take you to the North Scotland,
W:And married we will be.
W:
W:Go bring me a bag of your father's gold,
W:Likewise your mother's fee,
W:And two of the best horses that stand in the stall,
W:For there stand thirty and three.
W:
W:She brought him a bag of her father's gold,
W:Likewise her mother's fee,
W:And two of the best horses that stand in the stall,
W:For there stand thirty and three.
W:
W:She lit upon her nimble going brown,
W:[He] mounted the dapple grey,
W:And when they reached the North Scotland
W:Just three hours before the day.
W:
W:Light you down, light you down, my pretty Polly,
W:Light you down at my command.
W:Six kings' daughters here have I drowned,
W:And the seventh you shall be.
W:
W:Pull off, pull off those fine gay clothes,
W:And hang on yonder tree,
W:For they are too fine and they cost too much
W:For to rest in the salt lake sea.
W:
W:Go get those sickles for to cut those nettles
W:That grow so close to the brine,
W:For they may tangle in my long, yellow hair,
W:And stain my snowy white skin.
W:
W:He got those sickles for to cut those nettles
W:That grow so close to the brine;
W:And poor, kind Polly with a pitifully wish
W:And shoved false Wilfiam in.
W:
W:Lie there, lie there, you low William,
W:Lie there in the room of me.
W:Six kings' daughters you here have drowned,
W:And you the seventh shall be.
W:
W:Hush up, hush up, you pretty parrot bird,
W:Tell none of your tales on me.
W:Your cage shall be made of the yellow beating gold,
W:And your doors of ivory.
W:
W:Up speaks, up speaks that good old man
W:In his rook wherever he be:
W:What's the matter, what's the matter with my pretty parrot bird,
W:She's talking so long before it is day?
W:
W:Here sits three cats at my cage door,
W:My life expecting to betray;
W:I was just calling up my pretty, golden bee
W:For to drive those cats away.

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