Down in the Bones

Music has always been important in my family. Daddy Tom, he of the ever-blooming roses and the coal mines, was a gifted guitarist and singer. My father's mother was a classical pianist, as well as being the mayor of a small Florida town back in the twenties. I never knew either of them, but I believe that the music, like red hair and crooked middle fingers, has been passed down in the bones of their descendants. We sing, we play; children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren. My mother remembered many of the songs that Daddy Tom and his sister sang, and sang them to me and my sisters. "The Brown Girl" is one of the first songs I ever knew. In researching folk music of Ireland, Scotland and England over the years, I've found many variations on it, the most common being "Lord Randall". I think that the opening lines of my mother's version are some of the loveliest I've ever found. As a child, I had a morbid fascination with the bridegroom cutting off the Brown Girl's head, and waited breathlessly for that verse. Now, when I sing it, the last verse never fails to move me to tears. But the thing that has always amazed me the most is that this song passed over from the British Isles and then years and years later, came out of the hills and hollows of rural Alabama more or less intact.

"The Brown Girl"

Solve a riddle, solve a riddle, oh my dear Mother,
To make us all as one;
How can I marry Fair Ellen, my dear,
And bring the Brown girl home?

The Brown girl has both house and land,
Fair Ellen, she has none;
The only advice I can give you, my son,
Is to bring the Brown girl home.

Fair Ellen's hands are as a lily white dove,
Her hair like eiderdown;
The Brown girl's hands are dark and strong,
Her father owns the town.

You must ride fast to the Brown girl's door,
To tarry, 'twould be a sin;
The footman all dressed in his linen so fine
Will walk forth and let you come in.

I'd rather ride to Fair Ellen's door,
A knot will pull down the ring;
There will be none so proud as Fair Ellen herself
As to rise and let me come in.

The wedding it came and the feast it was set,
And the whole town came that night;
The Brown girl sat on the bridegroom's left,
And Fair Ellen at his right.

The Brown girl drew a dear little dagger
And pierced Fair Ellen's heart,
Then slashed the throat of the bridegroom fair,
And started to depart.

The bridegroom rose from where he sat,
His blood was rushing red,
He drew his sharp sword from his side,
And he cut off the Brown girl's head.

O mother, O mother, go make me a coffin,
Go make it wide and deep,
For to bury a sharp sword at my side,
And a dagger at my feet.

His mother she went and she made him a coffin,
She made it long and wide,
And she buried Fair Ellen in his arms,
And the Brown girl by his side.

'Twas a riddle, twas a riddle, his mother she wept,
To make us all as one;
For he did marry Fair Ellen, my friends,
And he brought the Brown girl home.