From: leighann@sybase.com (Leigh Ann Hussey)
Newsgroups: rec.org.sca
Subject: Re: Minstrel seeks words to song: Matty Groves
Date: 19 Aug 92 15:23:39 GMT
Organization: Ti Rhos Dhubh

[Greetings to the Rialto from Siobhan.  Apologies to the Rialto for
having to post this; I could not get through to the original poster's
machine.] [Yes, I know he wanted it for Pennsic, but perhaps he never
did get it, so here are the words, for whatever they're worth.]

Hi ho, hi ho, holiday, the best day of the year;
Little Matty Groves to church did go, some holy words to hear,
some holy words to hear.
 
He spied three ladies dressed in black, as they came into view;
Lord Arlen's wife was gaily clad, a flower among the few,
a flower among the few.  [future reps of half-line omitted to save space]
 
She tripp'ed up to Matty Groves, her eyes so low cast down,
Saying "Pray, oh pray, come with me stay, as you pass through the town."

"I cannot go, I dare not go, I fear 'twould cost my life,
"For I see by the little ring yu wear, you are Lord Arlen's wife,
"you're the great Lord Arlen's wife."
 
"This may be false, this may be true, I can't deny it all,
"But Arlen's gone to consecrate King Henry at Whitehall."
 
"Oh pray, oh pray come with me stay; I'll hide thee out of sight,
"I'll serve you there beyond compare and sleep with you the night.
 
Her little page did listen well to all that they did say,
And ere the sun could rise again, he quickly sped away.

And he did run the King's Highway, he swam across the tide,
He ne'er did stop until he came to the great Lord Arlen's side.

"What news, what news, my bully boy, what news bring you to me?
"My castle burned, my tenants robbed, my lady with baby?"

"No harm has come your house and land," the little page did say,
"But Matty Groves is bedded up with your fair lady gay."

Lord Arlen called his merry men, he bad them with him go,
He bade them ne'er a word to speak, and ne'er a horn to blow.

But among Lord Arlen's merry men was one who wished no ill,
And the bravest lad in all the crew blew his horn so loud and shrill.

"What's this, what's this," cried Matty Groves, "what's this that I do hear?
"It must be Lord Arlen's merry men, the ones that I do fear."

"Lie down, lie down, little Matty Groves, and keep my back from cold,
"It's only Lord Arlen's merry men a-callin' the sheep to fold"

Little Matty Groves he did lie down, he took a nap of sleep,
And when he woke, Lord Arlen was a-standin' at his feet.

"How now, how now, my bully boy, and how do you like my sheets?
"And how do you like my fair young bride who lies in your arms asleep?"

"Ah it's very well I like your bed, and it's well I like your sheets,
"But it's best I like your fair young bride who lies in my arms asleep."

"Rise up, rise up, little Matty Groves, as fast as e'er you can;
"In England it shall ne'er be said, I slew a sleeping man."

"I can't get up, I won't get up, I fear 'twould cost my life,
"For you have got two beaten swords, and I've but a pocket knife."

"It's true I have two beaten swords, they cost me deep in the purse,
"But you shall have the better of them, and I shall have the worse,

"And you shall strike the very first blow, and strike it like a man,
"And I shall strike the very next blow, and kill you if I can."

And the firstest stroke little Matty struck, he hurt Lord Arlen sore,
But the nextest stroke Lord Arlen struck, little Matty struck no more.

"Rise up, rise up, my gay young bride, draw on your pretty clothes.
"Now tell me do you like me best, or like you Matty Groves,
"or the dying Matty Groves?"

She picked up Matty's dying head, she kissed from cheek to chin,
Said, "It's Matty Groves I'd rather have than Arlen and all his kin."

"Ah woe is me and woe is thee, why stayed you not your hand?
"For you have killed the fairest lad in all of England."

-----
There's another verse in there somewhere at the end, where Arlen kills her
also, and directs that the lovers be buried in one grave, but she be buried
on top, "For she was of noble kin".  Presumably this means, she's higher on
the OP for Resurrection...

Slainte!
	- Siobhan


Leigh Ann Hussey 		leighann@sybase.com
Siobhan ni hEodhusa, ORL, OGB, etc.
Argent, a pale vert, surmounted in base by a lion dormant or, on a chief
wavy vert an Irish harp or.
Newsgroups: rec.org.sca