......your father's gold, my love,

voiceSung by Mr. Henry Weare Devalls Bluff, Ark. Nov. 14, 1953 Reel 175 Item 1 So Long Before Twas Day (Child #4) ......your father's gold, my love, And your mother's jewelree, And get that milk white horse you want, And go along with me, me, me, And go along with me. She mounted on her milk white steed, And he the iron gray, And they rode til they came to the deep blue sea, So long before it was day, day , day, So long before it was day. Oh get off here, my pretty Mrs. Poll, Talk awhile with thee, For six other king's daughters I've drowned here, And the seventh you shall be, be, be, And the seventh you shall be. If six other king's daughters you've drowned here. That's not what you promised me, You promised to take me to the Gaygaygo land, And there you'd marry me, me, me, And there you'd marry me. Take off that robe, that costly robe, And hang it on yonder tree, For your garments are far too costly and too fine, To rot in the deep blue sea, sea, sea, To rot in the deep blue sea. Oh turn your back, Lovely William, said she, And as quick as the leaves on the tree, With all her strength, her mighty strength, She plunged him into the sea, sea, sea, She plunged him into the sea. Lie there, lie there, Lovely William, said she, Lie there instead of me, For your garments are not too costly nor too fine, To rot in the deep blue sea, sea, sea, To rot in the blue sea. Coll. by M.C. Parler Reel 175, Item 1, con't Mr. Weare singing So Long Before 'Twas Day She mounted on her milk white steed, And led the iron gray, She rode 'til she came to her father's home, So long before it was day, day, day, So long before it was day. She put the horses in their stalls, And her father's gold away, And she crept into her own bedroom, So long before it was day, day, day, So long before it was day, pretty Up spoke her parrot, her parrot-bird, Saying pretty Polly where have you been? Oh where hare you been,my pretty Mrs. Poll, So long before it was day, day, day, So long before it was day. Oh hold your tongue, my pretty parrot-bird, Don't you tell no tales on me, And your cage shall be with the beams of gold, and the doors of ivoree, ree, ree, With the doors of ivoree.Funding for digitization provided by the Arkansas Humanities Council and the Happy Hollow Foundation