One
of my favorite folk songs goes like this (sorry, I can't find a
recording):
As I
walked out one holiday,
The
flakes of snow did fall,
And all
the children in the school
Were
out a-playing ball.
A
little boy threw his ball so high,
He threw his ball so low,
He
threw it in a dusky garden
Among
the blades of snow.
Out
came the neighbor’s youngest daughter
All dressed in fairy
green.
“Come in, come in, my lad,” she said,
“You
may have your ball again.”
She
took him by his little white arm,
and
led him through the hall
She
took him in a little dark room,
where
no one could hear him call.
She
sat him down in a golden chair
She
fed him with sugar and sweet
She
laid him down on a dusty board,
And
stabbed him like a sheep.
Pray
put my Bible at my head,
My
prayer-book at my feet,
And
if any of my playmates should call for me,
Pray
tell them I'm dead and asleep.
Some
take hold of locks of hair
And
others the soles of his feet
And
drag him down in a deep dry-well
Fifteen
fathoms deep.
Some
take hold of locks of hair
And
others the sole of his feet
And
drag him down in a deep dry-well
Where
weary travelers sleep.
I
love that the murder is so completely unmotivated here. Is she angry
about the ball? Is she a serial killer? Is she a fairy or a witch
(that sinister green)? And who are the mysterious “others” who
show up to get rid of the body?
Recently, reading Percy's
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry (which I recommend to anyone
interested in the history of English poetry) I found that the
original of this song is much less mysterious. The “lady” is a
Jew's daughter, and naturally she kills the child because she hates
Christians and wants their blood. The song is based on the historical case of a
13th-century child murder which was blamed on a dozen of
(coincidentally) the richest Jews in England and supposedly
witnessed by ALL the Jews in England. Here's the original, and
although too explicit for my taste, it has some lovely cruel parts.
The
rain rins doun through Mirry-land toune,
Sae dois it doune the
Pa;
Sae dois the lads of Mirry-land toune,
Whan they play at
the ba.
Than
out and cam the Jewis dochter,
Says, Will ye cum in and dine?
'I
winnae cum in, I cannae cum in,
Without my play-feres nine.'
Scho
powd an apple reid and white,
To intice the young thing in:
Scho
powd an apple white and reid,
And that the sweit bairne did win.
And
scho has taine out a little pen-knife,
And low down by her
gair;
Scho has twin'd the yong thing and his life,
A word he
nevir spak mair.
And
out and cam the thick, thick bluid,
And out and cam the thin,
And
out and cam the bonny herts bluid;
Thair was nae life left in.
Scho
laid him on a dressing-borde,
And drest him like a swine,
And
laughing said, Gae nou and pley
With your sweit play-feres nine.
Scho
rowd him in a cake of lead,
Bade him lie stil and sleip;
Scho
cast him in a deip draw-well,
Was fifty fadom deip.
Whan
bells wer rung, and mass was sung,
And every lady went hame,
Than
ilka lady had her yong sonne,
Bot Lady Helen had nane.
Scho
rowd hir mantil hir about,
And sair, sair gan she weip,
And she
ran into the Jewis castel,
Whan they wer all asleip.
'My
bonny Sir Hew, my pretty Sir Hew,
I pray thee to me speik:'
'O
lady, rinn to the deip draw-well,
Gin ye your sonne wad seik.'
Lady
Helen ran to the deip draw-well,
And knelt upon her kne:
'My
bonny Sir Hew, an ye be here,
I pray thee speik to me.'
'The
lead is wondrous heavy, mither,
The well is wondrous deip;
A
keen pen-knife sticks in my hert,
A word I dounae speik.
'Gae
hame, gae hame, my mither deir,
Fetch me my windling sheet,
And
at the back o Mirry-land toun,
It's thair we twa sall meet.'