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Our Singing Country |
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2 I stood there one hour as patient as Job, Calling to Pretty Polly, "Come open the door." I saw another man enjoying of my room,
I walked away by the light of the moon.
3 I took to my heels just as hard as I could go, I rambled way down in th$ far shady grove, And there I set down with a bottle in my hand, Drinking of brandy and thinking of that man.
4 So earlye next morning Pretty Polly passed me by With her red rosy cheeks and her black sparkling eyes; Her eyes they were so black and her hair were of the same, Pm wounded in my heart: did you ever feel that pain?
5 I wish I were a fisherman on yon riverside, Pretty Polly my object come floating down the tide;
Pd throw my net around her, Pd bring her to the shore, And have Pretty Polly to weep for no more.
6 Green grows the laurel and so does the rue, Sugar is sweet, but not like you;
And since it is no better, Pm glad it is no worse, Brandy in my bottle and money in my purse. |
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EAST VIRGINIA
ab. No. 1601. Ace. on banjo and sung by Walter WilÂliams, Salyersville, Ky., 1937. See Sh, 2:232.
"Lots of young men would take their banjos along when they was courtin\ but they was others that was too bashful. They was good banjo flayers you could set down under the shade of an affle tree or by the side of a barn by themselves and they could flay wonderfully; but to fut yem before feofley they was shy and ashamed and they couldnyt flay nothin*"
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