32-20-Blues
New member
I came across this song in my college library. It dates from the early 1700's, and was originally British. However, it survived in Ireland in a number of different versions until the 19th Century, apparently.
Anyway, it seems to be a moralising, or cautionary, tale against promiscuity. It's quite morbid, and deals with incest and murder. I re-worked most of the phrases into contemporary English, and this is what I got:
A gentleman was passing by,
He asked a drink as he got dry
At the well below the valley-o,
Green grows the lilly oh,
Right among the bushes -o.
My cup is full up to the brim,
If I was to stoop I might fall in
At the well....
If your true love was passing by,
You'd fill him a drink when he ran dry
At the well....
She swore by grass, she swore by corn,
That her true love had never be born
At the well....
Well says he you're swearing wrong,
Six fine children you've had born
At the well....
If you be a man of noble fame,
You'll tell to me who's the father of them
At the well....
There's three of them by your father dear.
Another three by your brother fair,
At the well....
If you be a man of noble fame,
You'll tell to me what has happened to them
At the well....
There's three of them buried beneath the floor,
Another three 'neath the stable door
At the well....
If you be a man of noble fame,
You'll tell to me what will happen myself
At the well....
You'll be seven years a-ringing a bell,
And the Lord won't save your soul from Hell
At the well below the valley-o,
Green grows the lilly oh,
Right among the bushes -o.
Anyway, it seems to be a moralising, or cautionary, tale against promiscuity. It's quite morbid, and deals with incest and murder. I re-worked most of the phrases into contemporary English, and this is what I got:
A gentleman was passing by,
He asked a drink as he got dry
At the well below the valley-o,
Green grows the lilly oh,
Right among the bushes -o.
My cup is full up to the brim,
If I was to stoop I might fall in
At the well....
If your true love was passing by,
You'd fill him a drink when he ran dry
At the well....
She swore by grass, she swore by corn,
That her true love had never be born
At the well....
Well says he you're swearing wrong,
Six fine children you've had born
At the well....
If you be a man of noble fame,
You'll tell to me who's the father of them
At the well....
There's three of them by your father dear.
Another three by your brother fair,
At the well....
If you be a man of noble fame,
You'll tell to me what has happened to them
At the well....
There's three of them buried beneath the floor,
Another three 'neath the stable door
At the well....
If you be a man of noble fame,
You'll tell to me what will happen myself
At the well....
You'll be seven years a-ringing a bell,
And the Lord won't save your soul from Hell
At the well below the valley-o,
Green grows the lilly oh,
Right among the bushes -o.
