English Folk Songs from the Southern Appalachians

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	No. 101
	The Brisk Young Lover A

	2 There is a house in this same town, He often goes there and sits down; He'll take a strange girl upon his knee, And he'll tell her things that he won't tell me. 3 It troubles me so, and I'll tell you for why, Because she has more gold than I, But it's gold will melt and silver will fly, But mine is love that will never die. 4 I went upstairs to make my bed, To lay me down to rest my head. My old mother came to my bedside, Saying: What's the matter with my child ? 5 O mother, O mother, you do not kr_ow Of the grief and pain and sorrow. Go bring me a chair and I'll sit down, With pen and ink I'll write it down. 6 At the end of each line I dropped a tear, At the end of every word cried: O my dear. My old father he came home, saying: Where has my daughter gone ? 7 He went upstairs and the door he broke, And there he found her hanging to a rope. He took his knife and cut her down, And on her breast a note he found.
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