Safe & Sound

An Album of Traditional Canadian Folk Songs
Maura Volante
Trout Lily Publishing, 2022

Safe & Sound captures fifteen traditional folk songs that have been safe in the folklore archives and brings them to sound. This album is part of Maura’s long-term project of bringing traditional Canadian folk songs to a wider audience. The sensitive production of James Stephens gives this project an appealing sound for contemporary ears while retaining the raw energy and simplicity of traditional singing styles.

The album opens with “Hey Arise”, which uses a Scottish tune to tell the story of Canadian men travelling to California for the 1849 gold rush. Maura enlisted the help of acclaimed duo Alexis MacIsaac and Calum MacKenzie on fiddle and piano for this one.

The next song offers the contrast of Maura’s voice, solo. About half the songs on this project were recorded unaccompanied, as it is the most common practice for folk songs that have come to us from oral tradition. Some songs just seem to work better that way.

Several tracks feature the nuanced guitar of Ernie Fraser, who is proficient in many styles but being from Cape Breton Island, he is grounded in traditional folk music.

James Stephens, in addition to being a recording wizard with an uncanny ear, is a multi-instrumentalist, featured in this project on fiddle, bass and octave mandolin as well as vocal harmony.

Ann Downey (Finest Kind and many other projects) is one of those vocalists who always finds the most appropriate harmony for any song. Fern Vale blends their voice with Maura’s, adding texture and timbre to the choruses.

Although the album is a delight for listening, with ballads, work songs, lyric laments and love songs, one of Maura’s main goals is to inspire others to learn and sing this material for themselves. To facilitate learning the songs, all the lyrics are posted here with each song.

There is also a booklet available separately, with lyrics and source information on the songs. It can be purchased in a handsome printed format, or downloaded for free from Google Drive if you click here

The album and booklet are now on Bandcamp in digital and physical formats: Mauravolante.bandcamp.com

Lyrics and Notes for
songs on Safe & Sound

Hey Arise and Come Along

Hey arise and come along!
Oh, arise and come along!
Rise, arise and come along
And bid farewell to Canada.

The day is fine, the wind is fair,
And it’s swiftly flows the tide.
The boat is sailing o’er the main
To bring me far from Canada.
Hey arise …

Here I lie all alone
On the California shore,
And the lass that I adore
She mourns alone in Canada.
Hey arise …

Tell that handsome girl of mine
If I return before I die
That I will drive her in great style
Along the roads of Canada.
Hey arise …

In Quebec, that noble town
We arrived here safe and sound
And in the tavern we’ll sit down
And drink a health to Canada
Hey arise …

From the singing of Grace (Mrs. Arlington) Fraser, Glengarry, Ontario. Collected by Edith Fowke and published in Traditional Singers and Songs from Ontario, 1965 p. 76.

This song is an adaptation of a Scottish song, “Farewell to Fiunary,” which was well known in Glengarry. The Canadian version probably refers to the gold rush of 1849, during which many young men travelled from Ontario to California.

The tune is suggestive of a walking or milling song. These were sung by groups working to shrink woollen cloth.

A Maid I am in Love

A maid I am in love and I dare not complain
For the sake of a sailor lad I have crossed the raging main
And if I do not find him I shall mourn him constantly
And for the sake of Jutney a maid I’ll live and die.

Blue jacket and white trousers this fair maid she put on
And like a jolly sailor lad she boldly marched along
She bargained with a captain his mate all for to be
For to be his own companion across the raging sea

One night as they were talking and just a-going to bed
The captain smiled at her and said, “I wish you were a maid
Your rosy cheeks and ruby lips they so entice me
That I do wish with all my heart you were a maid to me.”

“Oh no, oh no, dear captain, such talk is all in vain
And if the lads should hear of it of you they’d make great game
And when our barque does reach the shore some pretty girls we’ll find
We’ll laugh and sport among them, we are both well inclined.”

‘Twas about a fornight later, their barque did reach the shore
Saying, “Fare thee well, dear captain, I ne’er shall see you more
A sailor as I was on board, a maid I am on shore
Saying, fare thee well, dear captain, for I ne’er shall see you more.”

“Come back, come back, my pretty fair maid, and stay along with me
I have a handsome fortune that I’ll give to thee
Five thousand pounds all in bright gold guarantee on you I’ll bind
If you’ll come back, my pretty fair maid, and say that you’ll be mine.”

“Oh no, oh no, dear captain, such talk is all in vain
For I’m in search of a sailor lad who’s crossed the raging main
And if I do not find him I shall mourn him constantly
And for the sake of Jutney a maid I’ll live and die.”

From the singing of Mrs. Stan Marshall, Truro, Nova Scotia, 1952. On Folkways Records, Maritime Folk Songs: From the Collection of Helen Creighton.

There are many ballads about women who disguise themselves as men to go to sea. Most of the women are following a man. The endings vary, from pregnancy to murders, but generally the disguise is discovered. Here, she reveals herself when safe on shore, though it is still an open question whether she actually finds her lover.

The Chesapeake and the Shannon

Oh, the Chesapeake, so bold out of Boston as we’re told
Came to take the British frigate neat and handy-o
And the people in the port all came out to see the sport
And their bands all played up Yankee Doodle Dandy-o.
And their bands all played up Yankee Doodle Dandy-o.

Before this action had begun, the Yankees made much fun
Said, “We’ll tow her up to Boston neat and handy-o
And afterwards we’ll dine, treat our sweethearts all with wine
And we’ll dance a jig of Yankee Doodle Dandy-o.”
And we’ll …

Well, the British frigate’s name which for the purpose came
To cool the Yankees’ courage neat and handy-o
Was the Shannon; Captain Broke, all his men had hearts of oak
And in fighting were allowed to be the dandy-o.
And in …

Well, the fight had scarce begun when they flinchèd from our guns
They thought that they could take us neat and handy-o
Captain Broke he waved his sword, saying, “Come me boys, we’ll board
And we’ll stop them playing Yankee Doodle Dandy-o.”
And …

When the Britons heard this word, they all quickly sprang on board
They seized the Yankees’ ensign neat and handy-o
Notwithstanding all their brags, the British raised their flags
On the Yankees’ mizzen peak to the be the dandy-o.
On the …

Here’s to Broke and all his crew, who with courage stout and true
Fought against the Yankee frigate neat and handy-o
And may they ever prove both in fighting and in love
That the British tars will always be the dandy-o.
That the …

From the singing of Alexander Murphy, Pictou County, N.S. Edith Fowke, Singing Our History, 1984, p. 60. Also in W. Roy McKenzie, Ballads and Sea Songs from Nova Scotia, p. 208,.

The Americans mocked the British in song after a naval battle in 1812, so this is the British answer after their victory, a short but bloody battle on June 1, 1813.

The Old Beggar Man

“Where were you born and where were you bred?”
“In Scotland town in a foreign counteree
In Scotland town where I was born
There t’were a maid and she gave to me a ring.”

“If this ring proves bright and clear
You’ll know that I am true to thee my dear
If this ring proves pale and worn
You’ll know that your true love is with another man.”

I shipped on board and away sailed I
I sailed away to a foreign counteree I
looked at the ring, it was pale and worn
I knew that my true love was with another man.

I shipped on board and back sailed I
I sailed ’til I came to my own counteree
One day as I was a-riding along
Who did I meet but a poor old beggar man.

“What news, what news have you got today?
What news have you got for me today?”
“Sad news, sad news, I’ve got today
Tomorrow is your true lover’s wedding day.”

“Come put on this riding suit
And I’ll put on the beggar’s suit.”
“The riding suit’s not fit for me
The beggar’s suit’s not fit for thee.”

“What care I if it’s right or wrong.”
The beggar’s suit he did put on
He toddled away at a weary rate
He set down his pack at yonder gate.

And he begged from the parlour, he begged from the hall
He begged from the poorest and richest of them all
But as for wine he’d take none at all
Unless he could get it from the bride’s own hand.

Down came the bride a-tripping down the stairs
With rings on her fingers and gold in her hair
And in her hand a glass of wine
To give it to the poor old beggar man.

Out of the glass he drank the wine
And into the glass he slipped the ring
“Did you get it by land or on sea
Or did you take it off a drowned man’s hand?”

“I didn’t get it by land or on sea
I didn’t take it off a drowned man’s hand
I got it from my true love on our courting day
And given it back to her on her wedding day.”

Rings from her fingers she did pull off
And gold from her hair she did let fall
“I’ll follow my true love wherever he may go
Although he begs our bread from door to door.”

Between the kitchen and the hall
The beggar’s suit he did let fall
The gold that shone was the finest of all
He was the fairest young man in the hall.

From the singing of Edmund Doucette, Miminegash, Prince Edward Island. In Edward D (Sandy) Ives, Drive Dull Care Away, pp. 72–73.

A variant of “Hind Horn,” Child 17.

Free and Easy Jogging Along

Oh it’s of my rambles I’m going to sing
Like a rambling blackbird all in the spring
The summer sunbeams shone all day long
I was free and easy jogging along
The summer sunbeams shone all day long
I was free and easy jogging along.

Oh, it’s when we all went to Belleville green
The boys and the girls were there to be seen
The happiest lad amongst the throng
I was free and easy jogging along
The happiest lad amongst the throng …

Oh, it’s when we all went to Belleville quay
It was just twelve miles from Belleville green
They sat me down to sing a song
’Twas called free and easy jogging along
They sat me down …

Oh we had not sailed ’bout two or three days
When a pretty fair maid stared me in the face
“Oh,” she said, “Are you a married man?”
“No, I’m free and easy jogging along “Oh,” she said …

Oh, I took her over to yonder inn
I ordered liquor, both ale and gin
She wanted to join both heart and hand
Forget free and easy jogging along
She wanted …

“No,” I said, “Fair maiden, that ne’er can be
For I’m resolved to cross the sea
When a man gets married his race is run
I’ll go free and easy jogging along
When a man …”

From the singing of George McCallum, Grafton, Ontario. In Edith Fowke, More Folk Songs of Canada, pp. 190–191.

Originally Irish, this song has been localized to Belleville, Ontario

Jim Whalen

Come gentlemen and ladies, I’d have you to draw near
’Tis of a mournful accident that I would have you hear
’Tis of a young and noble youth, Jim Whalen he was called
Who was drowned off Pete McLaren’s raft, below the Upper Fall.

The rapids they were raging, the river it ran high
The foreman to young Whalen said, “This jam we have to try
You are both young and active; of danger you’ve no fear
You’re just the man to help me now and get the river clear.”

Young Whalen then made answer unto his comrades bold “
Come one and all together, we’ll do as we are told
We’ll obey our orders bravely as noble men should do
But as he spoke, the jam it broke and let poor Whalen through.

Three brave youths were on that jam and two of them were saved
But noble-hearted Whalen sank far beneath the waves
No mortal man could live upon that foaming watery main
And though he struggled hard for life, his struggles were in vain.

The foaming waters roared and tossed the logs from shore to shore
Now here, now there, his body went a-tumbling o’er and o’er
One final cry for mercy, “Oh God, look down on me!”
Then his soul was freed from earthly care, bound to eternity.

Come all ye jolly raftsmen, think on poor Whalen’s fate
Take warning and be careful before it is too late
For death’s still lurking ’round you, still seeking to destroy
The pride of many a father’s heart and many a mother’s joy.

From the singing of A.C. Hannah. In Edith Fowke, Folk Songs of Canada, pp. 82–83.

A true story of an accident on the Mississippi River in eastern Ontario. This is one of the most widespread logging songs in Canada and the U.S.

Lost Jimmy Whalen

Slowly as I strayed on the banks of a river
A-viewing those roses as the evening drew nigh
As onward I rambled I espied a fair damsel
She was weeping and wailing with many a sigh.

She was weeping for one that was now lying lonely
Weeping for one that no mortal can save
For the dark rolling waters lie slowly around him
As onward they flow over young Jimmy’s grave.

Slowly there rose from the depths of the desert
A vision of beauty more brighter than the sun
With roses of crimson around him a-waving
To speak to this young one he just had begun.

“Why do you call me from redlums* of glory
Back to this wide world I no longer can stay
To embrace you once more in my strong loving arms
To see you once more I have come from my grave.”

“Darling,” she said, “won’t you bury me with you
Do not desert me to weep and to mourn
But take me, oh take me along with you, Jimmy
To sleep with you down in your cold silent tomb.”

“Darling,” he said, “you are asking a favour”
That no mortal person can grant unto thee
For deep is the desert that parts us asunder
And wide is the gulf lies between you and me.”

She threw herself down and she wept bitterly
In the deepest of anguish those words she did say
“Oh, you are my darling, my lost Jimmy Whalen
I’ll sigh ’til I die by the side of your grave.”

*realms

From the singing of Mrs. John Coughlin, Ellerslie, Prince Edward Island. In Edward D. (Sandy) Ives, Drive Dull Care Away, pp. 35–37.

I like to think of this song as a sequel to “Jim Whalen,” continuing the story after his death. This connection, however, has not been documented. This song is even better known than “Jim Whalen,” with variants all over Canada and the U.S.

Hurry Up, Harry

Come all you true born shantyboys and listen unto me
And whene’er a woodsman that you should chance to see
We are a merry set of boys, so handsome, young and fine
And spend a jolly winter a-cutting down the pine.

So it’s hurry up, Harry, and Tom or Dick or Joe
And you may take the pail, boys, and for the water go I
n the middle of the splashing, the cook will “Dinner!” cry
And you’d ought to see them hurry up for fear they’d lose their pie.

There’s blackstrap molasses, buns as hard as rock
Tea that’s boiled in an old tin pail and smells just like your sock
The beans they are sour, the porridge thick as dough
And when we’ve have stashed this in our craw, it’s to the woods we’ll go
So it’s hurry up, Harry, …

A-hitching up our braces, a-binding up our feet
A-grinding up our axes, for our kind is hard to beat!
A-shouldering up our crosscuts and through the woods we go
We are a jolly set of boys a-trudging through the snow.
So it’s hurry up, Harry, …

So deeply in that tree of pine we notch to guide its fall
And not a man among us but will hear the timber call
And when it crashes to the ground, we fall to with a will
A-trimmin’ up the branches and a-swearin’ fit to kill.
So it’s hurry up, Harry, …

Arriving at the shanty, wet, tired and with wet feet
We all take off our socks and boots, our supper for to eat
At nine o’clock or thereabouts into our bunks we’ll crawl
To sleep away the few short hours until the morning call
So it’s hurry up, Harry, …

From the singing of LaRena Clark, published in Edith Fowke, A Family Heritage, p 234.

There are many songs about life in logging camps, including tragic tales of accidental deaths (e.g., “Peter Emberley”) but few of these songs have choruses. This song illustrates just how important it was, after a day of hard work, to eat a good dinner, especially the dessert.

Thyme ‘Tis a Pretty Flower

Thyme ’tis a pretty flower
That grows out under the sun
And it’s time you and I have come to an end
For it’s now our time rolls on.

It’s very well drinking ale
But still better drinking wine
And far better sitting on a bonny boy’s knee
That gains this heart of mine.
Thyme ’tis a pretty flower …

She walks in the garden
This lady oh so fine
And she weeds her gardens green
Lest no one steal her thyme.
Thyme ’tis a pretty flower …

It’s very well drinking ale …

Thyme ’tis a pretty flower …

From the singing of LaRena Clark, Ontario. On Folkways Records, A Canadian Garland.

Also in Edith Fowke, A Family Heritage, p 234–236.

This song is related to an old British song, “Bunch of Thyme,” or “Let No Man Steal Your Thyme,” in which thyme symbolizes virginity. However, this song is only tangentially related, with few overlapping words.

The Dapple Grey

The wind it blew all from the Northway
When he came courting me
He said he would take ’way to the Northway
And there he’d marry me.

“Bring me some of your father’s gold
And some of your mother’s fee
Two of the best horses in the stable
Where there stand thirty and three.”

She brought him some of her father’s gold
And some of her mother’s fee
Two of the best horses in the stable
Where there stood thirty and three.

She mounted on her milk-white steed
And he on the dapple grey
They rode ’til they came down to the seaside
Three hours before it was day.

“Cast off, cast off your white silken gown
And deliver it unto me
It’s six pretty maidens I have drownded here
The seventh one you shall be.”

“If I must cast off my white silken gown
Pray turn your back toward me
I don’t think it right for a villain like you
A naked woman to see.”

So he turned his back toward her
While she did so bitterly weep
She grabbed him by the small of the waist
And landed him into the deep.

He sped high and he sped low
And he sped near to the side
“Take hold of my hand, my pretty Polly
And I will make you my bride.”

“Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man
Lie there instead of me
It’s six pretty maidens you have drownded here
The seventh one drownded thee.”

She mounted on her milk-white steed
And led the dapple grey
She rode ’til she came to her own father’s door
One hour before it was day.

The parrot being up in the castle so high
On seeing the maiden did say
“What is the matter, my pretty Polly?
You tarry such a long time away.”

“Hold your tongue, my pretty parrot
Don’t tell no tales on me
And your cage will be made of the fine beaten gold
And the doors of the best ivory.”

The Queen being up on the castle so high
On hearing the parrot did say
“What is the matter, my pretty parrot?
You prattle so long before day.”

“No laughing matter,” the parrot replied
“So loudly I call upon thee
There is a cat on the high window ledge
I’m afraid she might worry me.”

“Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot
Well turned, well turned,” said she
“Your cage will be made of the fine beaten gold
And be hung on an olive tree.”

From the singing of LaRena Clark, Ontario. On Folkways Records, A Canadian Garland. Also in Edith Fowke, A Family Heritage, pp. 22–24.

A variant of “Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight,” Child 4.

Gypsy Davy

A Gypsy Davy came to town
Riding on a pony
He whistled while he sang and the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.

Fal the dal da, fal the dee die doh
Fal the dal da doh day dee
He whistled while he sang and the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.

The lady to her window came
Her servants all behind her
She listened while he sang and the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.
Fal the dal da, …

Her lord came home in the middle of the night
Returning to his lady
But she had gone with the cold, cold dawn
Had gone with the Gypsy Davy.
Fal the dal da, … “

Harness up my milk white steed
The brown is not so speedy
I’ll ride all day and I’ll ride all night
’Til I overtake my lady.”
Fal the dal da, …

So he rode east and he rode west
He swore that he would find her
And by his side she then would ride
And a thousand cords would bind her.
Fal the dal da, …

So he rode east and he rode west
He rode ’til he found his lady
His sword he drew, his wife he slew
Before the Gypsy Davy.
Fal the dal da, …

Last night I slept on a feather bed
With servants all around me
Tonight I’ll die on the cold, cold ground
Beside the Gypsy Davy.
Fal the dal da, …

From the singing of LaRena Clark, in Edith Fowke, A Family Heritage, p 33.

This is an unusual form of a very common old ballad (Child 200). Many of the American variants have a happy ending for the lady and the gypsy, but this one is more like the Scottish variants, with the addition of killing the wife as well as the gypsy.

I know that some folks have stopped singing songs that use the word, “gypsy.” I choose to sing this song because it reflects the usage of the time. I wouldn’t call anyone by that name now, but I refuse to discard an excellent song because it uses language we no longer find acceptable.

Bonnie Banks of Virgie-O

Three young ladies went for a walk
All alone and a-lonely-o,
They met a robber on their way,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of Virgie-O.

He took the first one by the hand,
All alone …
He whipped her around and made her stand,
On the …

“Will you be a robber’s wife,
All alone …
Or will you die by my penknife?”
On the …

“I will not be a robber’s wife,
All alone …
I’d rather die by your penknife,”
On the …

He then took out his little penknife,
All alone …
And there he took her own sweet life,
On the …

He took the second one by the hand,
All alone …
He whipped her around and made her stand,
On the …

“Will you be a robber’s wife,
All alone …
Or will you die by my penknife?”
On the …

“I will not be a robber’s wife,
All alone …
I’d rather die by your penknife,”
On the …

He then took out his little penknife,
All alone …
And there he took her own sweet life,
On the …

He took the third one by the hand,
All alone …
He whipped her around and made her stand,
On the …

“Will you be a robber’s wife,
All alone …
Or will you die by my penknife?”
On the …

“I will not be a robber’s wife,
All alone …
And I’ll not die by your penknife,”
On the …

“If my brothers had been here,
All alone …
You would not have murdered my sisters, dear,”
On the …

“What are your brothers, I pray you tell,”
All alone …
“One is a robber like yourself,”
On the …

“What is the other, I pray you tell,
All alone …
“The other is a minister,”
On the …

“Oh my God, what have I done?,
All alone …
I’ve murdered my sisters, all but one,”
On the …

He then took out his little penknife,
All alone …
And there he took his own sweet life,
On the …

From the singing of Ken Peacock, Folkways, Songs and Ballads of Newfoundland,. Collected by Peacock, probably from Mr. & Mrs. Monks.

It is a variant of Child 14, also called “Banks of Fordie,” “Banks of Airdrie,” and “Babylon.”

The Golden Vanity

There was a gallant ship in North Americay
And the name of the ship was the Golden Vanity
She was said to be taken by the Turkish Commune
And sunk in the lowlands, the lowlands
And sunk in the lowlands low.

The first to come on board was a little cabin boy
Saying, “Captain, what will you give me if yon ship I do destroy?”
“Gold I will give you and my daughter for your bride
If you’ll sink her in the lowlands, …

The boy took an auger and he swam away to sea
He swam well away from the Golden Vanity
And when he had breasted the Turkish Commune
He would sink her in the lowlands, …

The boy took the auger and three holes he bored twice
Some were playing cards and some were shaking the dice
Our dark eyes did sparkle as the waters they poured in
And she sank in the lowlands…

The boy did a brisk and he swam away to sea
He swam right back to the Golden Vanity
“Shipmates, pick me up for I’m sinking in the sea
I’m sinking in the lowlands, …

“Pick you up,” said the Captain, “Oh, this you should’ve known
The promise that I made to you was made to you alone
Gold I will not give you nor my daughter for your bride
You can sink in the lowlands, …

The boy beat his arms and he reached the other side
When he saw his shipmates unto them he cried
“Mates, pick me up for I’m sinking in the tide
I’m sinking in the lowlands, …

His mates picked him up and ’twas there on deck he died
They rolled him in his blanket, it was so long and wide
They rolled him in his blanket and they lowered him in the tide
And he sank in the lowlands, …

From the singing of LaRena Clark, in Edith Fowke, A Family Heritage, pp. 42–43.

A very common ballad on both sides of the Atlantic (Child 286), this song is also called “Sweet Trinity” and “Golden Willow Tree.”

The Murder of Maggie Howie

I am an Irishman by birth, my name is Michael Lee
I fell in love with a pretty girl, which proved my destiny
I fell in love with a pretty girl, Maggie Howie was her name
It’s cruel that I have murdered her, I own it to my shame.

Maggie Howie was a farmer’s daughter, the truth to you I’ll tell
She resided in Napanee where she was known quite well
It’s true I loved her dearly, as you will understand
For she is wearing my own gold ring upon her lily white hand.

For a long time I courted her, I was filled with joy and pride
For a long time I courted her, I thought she’d be my bride
Night and day both passed away in my love’s company
Her parents interfering, she would not marry me.

It was early one Tuesday morning, my love along did stray
I overtook my darling and those words to her did say,
“My dearest dear, I must be severe and take away your life
Unless you promise to marry me and become my lawful wife.”

She wrang her hands in anger and wept most bitterly
Saying, “Michael, do have mercy and do not murder me.”
But I was deaf to all her cries, no mercy could I show
And in my hands I took the axe, and struck that fatal blow.

My love fell, dead, down at my feet, it was a mortal wound
And over her fair bosom the blood came pouring down
I ran away into the woods, my sorrow to prevail
But I was overtaken and sent to the county jail.

So it’s now I am a prisoner in the town of Napanee
It’s here I’ll stand my trial and the judge will sentence me
It’s true that I am guilty and I do deserve to die
For the murder of my own true love, all on the gallows high.

From the singing of Geraldine Sullivan, on Folkways, Folk Songs of Ontario, 1958.

The murder took place in 1882 in Napanee, and although some of the details have been changed in the song, the names are accurate. One telling detail is that the Howies were Protestant and Lee was a Catholic. The Irish in Ontario carried these enmities with them.

The first person narrative is a convention for murder ballads and does not mean that the murderer actually composed the song.

Well Sold the Cow

Come all ye good people, a story I’ll tell
It’s of a rich farmer in Yorkshire did dwell
He had a youthful boy which he hired as a man
All for to do his work and his name it was John.

Fal de diddle dido, fal de dal de dey
Fal de diddle dido, fal de dal de dey

One morning, bright early, John’s master arose
Into John’s room he instantly goes
“Jack, my dear fellow, drive this cow to the fair
For she is in good order and her we can spare.”
Fal de diddle dido, …

So Jack took the cow and drove her out of the farm
He had not gone far when he met with three men
He had not gone far when he met with three men
And he sold the cow for nine pounds ten.
Fal de diddle dido, …

They went to an ale house all for to get a drink
Those three men paid him right down in a jink
“What will I do with my money, landlady?” said he
“In the lining of your coat I’ll sew it,” said she
“For it’s here upon the road you robbèd might be.”
Fal de diddle dido, …

A robber in the room sat drinking up his wine
Thinking to himself, “That money shall be mine,”
Jack took his leave and he started for home
The robber he followed him out of the room.
Fal de diddle dido, …

The robber overtook him all on the highway
“How far do you travel, young man?” he did say
“Three or four miles as near I know”
And he jumped on behind and away they did go.
Fal de diddle dido, …

They rode along together ’til they came to a narrow lane
“Deliver up your money, young man,” he did say
“Deliver up your money, without fear or strife
Or this very moment I will take away your life.”
Fal de diddle dido, …

Jack jumped down without fear or doubt
From the lining of his coat he pulled the money out
From the lining of his coat he pulled the money out
And all along the green grass he scattered it about.
Fal de diddle dido, …

The robber jumped down from off of his horse
Little did he think it would be to his worse
While gathering up the money Jack threw on the grass
Jack jumped on the saddle and he rode away with the horse.
Fal de diddle dido, …

One of the servants saw Jack coming home
Into the master he instantly run
“Jack, my dear fellow, have you made a swap?
Or did my cow turn into a horse?”
Fal de diddle dido, …

“No, my dear master, the truth I’ll unfold
I was stopped on the way by a highwayman so bold
While gathering up the money I threw along the grass
To prove myself a man, I brought home the horse.”
Fal de diddle dido, …

When the saddle bags were opened and in them were fold
Five hundred bright guineas in silver and gold
A pair of bright pistols, the master did vow
“Jack, my dear fellow, you have well sold the cow.”
Fal de diddle dido, …

From the singing of Ben Henneberry, in Helen Creighton, Songs and Ballads from Nova Scotia, pp. 29–31.

A variant of “Crafty Farmer,” Child 283.