I’ll be honest ya’ll, I was a little torn on what to focus on this week, I found some really amazing stuff, ones that reminded me of why I began digging deeper into ballads.
I’m also contemplating what other elements I can add to the show to mix things up a bit. I feel like I could expand on and link these songs to. I’m thinking about including more myth and folklore because they are the core of these early ballads, and therefor much of the modern tradition as well.
My research into all of this actually began as digging into every back copy of the journal Folklore by the American Folklore society, because a lot of the work bringing these songs back alive was done by early folklorists who were working to save traditional oral culture, story and music. The two are intricately linked, and I’m not sure why I haven’t talked about that yet.
I guess it’s because we haven’t done a really supernatural song yet. We’ve mostly been talking about sex…not that it’s a bad thing. I rather hope it’s given some good food for thought.
That said this show will be in a constant state of growth and evolution, with me adding and removing according to what seems to be working. I do hope that folks will eventually send me their work so I can have more to share and get the opportunity to interview the creator… but we gotta build first. So if you’re listening today and you know someone who is a musician, songwriter, or storyteller, please spread the word.
So… in the end, I’ve decided to jump into the supernatural realm and look at a couple different ones… one that isn’t very popular, and the other remains one of the most popular songs in the folk and bluegrass tradition.
The first, The Suffolk Miracle, isn’t that well known or performed today, but it has so many of the key traits of the kind of story where a dead lover returns to visit the living, but the living lover doesn’t know they’re talking to a dead version.
It’s hard to explain that, but it’s a popular one, and I think you’ll get the point when we look at the story,
THE SUFFOLK MIRACLE; BEING The Relation of a young Man, who after his Death appeared to his Sweetheart, and carried her behind him Forty Miles in two Hours Time, and was never seen after, but in the Grave.
A little bit newer than any of the others we’ve covered so far. This lil baby was published somewhere between 1730-1769.
A Wonder strange as eer was known,
Then what I now shall treat upon,
In Suffolk there did lately dwell,
A Farmer Rich, and known full well.
He had a Daughter fair and bright,
On whom he placed his chief Delight,
Her Beauty was beyond compare,
She was both virtuous and fair.
A young Man there was living by,
Who was so charmed with her Eye,
That he could never be at Rest,
He was with Love so much possest.
He made Address to her, and she
Did grant him Love immediately,
Which when her Father came to hear,
He parted her, and her poor Dear.
Forty Miles distant was she sent,
Unto her Uncles, with Intent,
That she should there so long remain,
Till she had changd her Mind again.
Hereafter this young Man sadly grievd,
But knew not how to be relievd;
He sighd and sobbd continually,
That his true Love he could not see.
She by no Means could to him send,
Who was her Hearts espoused Friend;
He sighd, she grievd, but all in Vain,
For she confind must still remain.
He mournd so much that Doctors Art
Could give no Ease unto his Heart,
Who was so strangely terrifyd,
That in short time for Love he dyd.
She that from him was sent away,
Knew nothing of his dying Day,
But constant still she did remain,
To Love the Dead was then in vain.
After he had in Grave been laid,
A Month or more, unto this Maid,
He came about Middle of the Night,
Who joyd to see her Hearts Delight.
Her Fathers Horse which well she knew,
Her Mothers Hood and Safeguard too,
He brought with him to testify,
Her Parents Order he came by.
Which when her Uncle understood,
He hopd it might be for her Good,
And gave Consent to her straight way,
That with him she should come away.
When she was got her Love behind,
They passd as swift as any Wind,
That in two Hours, or little more,
He brought her to her Fathers Door.
But as they did this great Haste make,
He did complain his Head did ake;
Her Handkerchief she then took out,
And tyd the same his Head about.
And unto him she thus did say,
Thou art as cold as any Clay,
When we come home a Fire well have,
But little dreamt he went to Grave.
Soon were they at her Fathers Door,
And after she neer see him more;
Ill set the Horse up then, he said,
And there he left this harmless Maid.
She knockd, and straight away, he cryd,
Whos there? tis I, she then replyd:
Who wonderd much her Voice to hear,
And was possest with Dread and Fear.
Her Father she did tell, and then,
He stard like an affrighted Man.
Down Stairs he ran, and when he saw her,
Cryd out, My Child, how camst thou here?
Pray Sir, did you not send for me,
By such a Messenger, said she,
Which made his Hair stand on his Head,
As knowing well that he was dead.
Where is he then, to her he said,
Hes in the Stable, quoth the Maid,
Go in said he, and go to Bed,
Ill see the Horse well littered.
He stard about, and there could he
No Shape of any Mankind see,
But found his Horse all in a Sweat,
Which put him in a deadly fright.
His Daughter he said nothing to,
Nor no one else, though well they knew,
That he was dead a Month before,
For fear of grieving her full sore.
Her Father to his Father went,
(Who was decayd) with this Intent,
To tell him what his Daughter said,
So both came back unto this Maid.
They asked her, and she still did say,
Twas him that then brought her away;
Which when they heard they were amazd,
And on each other strangely gazd.
A Handkerchief, she said, she tyd
About his Head, and that they tryd;
The Sexton they did speak unto,
That he the Grave would then undo.
Affrighted then they did behold
His Body turning into Mould;
And tho he had a Month been dead,
This Handkerchief was about his Head.
This thing unto her then they told,
And the whole Truth they did unfold,
She was thereat so terrified
And grievd, she quickly after died.
Part not true Love, you rich Men then,
But if they be right honest Men,
Your Daughters Love give them their way,
For Force oft breeds their Lifes decay.
On the top level, this story seems simple enough. Father sends his daughter off to get her away from the boyfriend… who dies from a broken heart. His ghost or… zombie body… comes to take her home, only to disappear in time for the truth to come out. The girl, in misery and grief… also dies from heartache, uniting the lovers again.
Yet, between the lines, there’s a pretty sinister motive. The boy’s revenant comes back to take the girl back home so that she discovers the truth of his fate, but does he realize that she will die of her own sorrow? Is this a way of getting justice and revenge against the father who kept these true lovers apart?
Then again if the father hadn’t insisted they dig up the boy's damn body… or is it him? The song isn’t clear, but the character of the father would match with the kind to have a boy dug up to prove he was right. We don’t know much about the boy, or why the father would be so insistent that he wasn’t good enough to marry his daughter, that he sent her far away from home for good.
Did they get caught together? Was he too poor? That’s the only logical explanation I can think of… he was too poor and her father wanted more for his daughter.
This is where folklore comes in because the boy is clearly not a ghost but a revenant. A revenant is slightly different than a zombie. The word revenant can apply to both ghosts and animated corpses, but in the second case the consensus seems to be that the person was unbelievably wicked in their life. That is what gives them the power to reanimate their corpse to go about their unfinished business, which is typically deadly retribution for some wrong.
Yet, this story isn’t quite that. It’s hard to imagine a young man so full of wickedness that he has accumulated the kind of dark power needed to reanimate himself. Instead, it seems that the power of his love was enough to reanimate him to bring his love to him.
Now, the idea of two true lovers being torn apart by greed is a common one, but the addition of digging up a dead body tips it into a more ghastly supernatural world. In the end, this story isn’t so much about two kids being torn apart, but a warning to not place base desires such as greed above higher values and ideals, such as love. Let’s be honest the song isn’t gentle about it, and there are a lot of these what I call teaching songs, where they are teaching moral lessons through story and song. You know, the same thing most literature does, only they are a bit heavy-handed at the end, to make sure the audience gets it… but then again it’s important to remember that these songs were being performed so long ago that this wasn’t necessarily considered… hacky? If you think about it, these same techniques still appear from time to time in fourth wall breaks and heavy-handed kids' films. Those are just two that pop into my head.
There are a lot of these “teaching songs” in early ballads, especially in terms of how we behave in relationships with each other. The ones we’ve covered so far have been a bit more subtle, but these kind of warnings are plenty.
So, I wanted to pair this song with a song that remains insanely popular today, “Barbara Allen,” which was published around the same period in 1750, that looks at another young man who dies from love, but his is an unrequited love by cold-hearted Regina George style mean girl, Barabara Allen.
IN Scarlet Town where I was bound,
There was a fair maid dwelling;
Whom I had chosen for my own,
And her name it was Barbara Allen.
All in the merry month of May,
Where green leaves they were springing
This young man on his death bed lay,
For the sake of Barbara Allen.
He sent his man unto her then,
To the town where she was dwelling
You must come to my master dear,
If your name is Barbara Allen.
For death is printed in his face,
And sorrows in him dwelling;
And you must come to my master dear,
If thy name is Barbara Allen.
If death be printed in his face,
And sorrows in him dwelling;
O little better shall he be
For Bonny Barbary Allen.
So slowly she came to him,
And so slowly she came to him;
And all she said when she came to him,
Young man, I think you are dying.
He turnd his face unto her then,
If you are Barbara Allen,
My dear, said he, come pity me,
As I am on my death-bed lying.
If you are on your death-bed lying,
What is that to Barbara Allen?
I cannot keep you from your death,
Then farewell Barbara Allen.
He turnd his face unto the wall,
And death came creeping on him,
Then adieu, adieu, adieu to you all,
And adieu to Barbara Allen.
As she was walking out one day,
She heard the bells a ringing,
And they did seem to ring to her,
Unworthy Barbara Allen.
She turnd herself round about,
And saw the corpse a coming,
Lay down, lay down, the corpse said she,
That I may look upon him.
And all the while she looked on,
So loudly she lay laughing,
While all her friends cryd out amain,
Unworthy Barbara Allen,
When he was dead and laid in his grave,
Then death came creeping to she,
O mother, mother, make my bed,
For his death will quite undo me.
Hard-hearted creature that I was,
To slight one that lovd me so dearly;
I wish I had been more kind to him,
In time of life when he was near me.
So this maid she then did die,
And desired to be buried by him;
And repented herself before she dyd,
That eer she did deny him.
As she was lying down to die,
A sad feud she fell in;
She said, I pray take warning by
Hardhearted Barbara Allen.
Ohhh… Barbie… she’s such a bitch, and the song all but calls her that, and let’s be honest. You probably did too. After all, there aren’t many other words to describe a girl so cold that when someone dies from unrequited love, she laughs at his funeral procession. We don’t get any information about what puts her on her own deathbed, just that death came for her in a kind of divine karma.
I think that both these songs really carry the same message, one that isn’t actually stated, and that is the dangers of the romantic myth of “the one”. The idea that we only have one “true love” in our lives is such a toxic one, and one that tends to affect us way more than we like to admit. It’s one that causes us to wallow in feelings of rejection and insecurity anytime something doesn’t work out.
To quote Fiest, “The saddest part of a broken heart, isn’t the ending so much as the start”. Each time we pour ourselves into a relationship with anyone we are giving so much of our energy into the hope and joy we find in the beginning. When it ends, we go through a strange form of grieving. I know this because I had a long-term relationship end not too long after losing two close family members suddenly and violently within two weeks of each other.
The physical and mental processes I went through were so similar looking back. I poured myself into work because silence brought the pain of loss and quiet solitude was often too much if I wasn’t pouring every ounce of myself into distraction. I’ve healed from that now, well mostly… still a bit of darkness I address from time to time. I think we’ve probably all been there though, even as a teenager.
So let’s look at that Fiest song, which is unsurprisingly called, “Let it die”
Let it die and get out of my mind
We don't see eye to eye
Or hear ear to ear
Don't you wish that we could forget that kiss
And see this for what it is
That we're not in love
The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start
It was hard to tell just how I felt
To not recognize myself
I started to fade away
And after all it won't take long to fall in love
Now I know what I don't want
I learned that with you
The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start
The tragedy starts from the very first spark
Losing your mind for the sake of your heart
The saddest part of a broken heart
Isn't the ending so much as the start
Here the lovers don’t die, the relationship does. It’s that moment where nothing is working, and we have to reject something we once wanted so badly.
There’s a great affirmation, “rejection is protection” and it’s a great and grand idea of how things and people may leave us or reject us in a way to protect us from things that aren’t meant for us, but I take a bit more of a complicated view on this. Rejection hurts like a mother-fucker, no matter how many times it happens. If you say it never makes you feel bad, you’re lying to yourself. At our core we are social beings and social acceptance, and love in particular are powerful suppliers of oxytocin.
That shit hurts, but you don’t have “growing pleasure” you have “growing pains”. Growth hurts, and many times that growth is a result of rejection. We begin to look deeply inwards looking for flaws, but we find is our shadows. If we face those shadows, address them, integrate them… then we make progress in our paths of individuation or self-actualization.
My two biggest moments of growth came from rejection. One being the failure of said long-term relationship, and the other rejection from a fully funded Phd program, that I was so certain of because I’d been exchanging plans and emails with the project lead.
Both of these forced me into looking at who I was. The first forced me to look at the ways I’d been ignoring my own intuition and self-worth as a result of child-hood trauma involving communication and madness. See, my grandmother has borderline personality disorder, and her and my narcissistic grandfather were my primary caregivers. There’s a reason that I’ve seen four sudden family deaths in the past twenty years. Two murders, a suicide, and an overdose. An aunt, her youngest child, my sister, and a cousin.
That’s not a story for here though. It will eventually be one, but it’s one that is going to take a lot more work to tell because that shit is just so… fucked up.
It was that forced look into my own shadows that helped me grow into the knowledge that the fact that I’m not pregnant and on meth in a trailer somewhere makes me a rather rare gem. I learned a shit-ton in the process, but as a result, I don’t fit into categories, and my wide-ranging variety of experience has made my perspective on things a highly unique one. Things I’d never have realized about myself if I’d never stared down my own feelings of unworthiness and self-doubt that were a result of that same background.
With as much as the ending of that relationship hurt, I can’t imagine if it had happened when I was younger and still held onto the myth of the “one true love”. Yes, some people find it, but what isn’t often mentioned is how much work goes into making those work. Equal energy and attention has to be placed by both partners, in a constant back and forth of open communication, cooperation, and compromise. Work isn’t romantic but when you are able to get that kind of relationship, the amount of personal growth that it enables is the true beauty. Two souls working together to grow together.
Now, the PhD rejection made me really evaluate what I wanted in my life. The topic of my research, which I’m still doing, is the basis of this podcast. Jungian archetypes in traditional early modern ballads. I’m still just as passionate, but it made me think about what the core essence of my goal was, and it was to make people more aware of the value in these old songs that linger in the shadows of archives and databases.
If I’d gotten that position, I’d have moved to another country, and wouldn’t have started this podcast, which I believe holds much more potential in reaching my goal of letting these songs serve as inspiration for others. Instead it would have been a long academic paper that would be hidden behind paywalls and a career dependent on various kinds of funding… and pushes for publishing.
I think I’d rather just keep talking to ya’ll about them here, so that we are having a more active conversation about the topic. That’s what academics claim to be doing anyway, creating conversation on the bigger topics in life, from philosophy to engineering. It’s all about dialogue and the exchange of ideas.
I know all that seems long-winded, but it goes to prove my point that we can’t let the pains of lost love or dreams cause us to die, physically or mentally. We can’t allow these moments to turn us cynical and cold, which isn’t easy, but if we do the work, we can actually come away stronger in our understanding of ourselves and what we will and will tolerate from others.
So think about how past heartbreaks have left you stronger, and go ahead and let yourself feel that pride in yourself.
As a heads up, I’m going to take a break next week to allow myself to jump ahead on planning the next few shows.
When we come back though I’ll be looking at an early “John-Tucker” must die kind of song where a bunch of baby mammas come for vengeance.
So until next time, stay saucy.
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