This version of Fair Annie (Child 62) comes from the late Peter Bellamy but it turns out that many others have recorded it as well. We were given a bit of background from our good friend Nigel Schofield (who knows everything about everything) that surprised us: the original version of the story is a Lai by Marie de France, probably written around 1194. She was known in the court of Henry II, where the Lai de Fresne, which mirrors the Fair Annie story, was recited. She may have even been Henry II's illegitimate half sister, exiled to France as a baby with her mother, in which case the original Lai has extreme irony. Who knew?
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"Comb back your hair, Fair Annie," he said
"Comb it back into your crown.
For you must live a maiden's life
When I bring my new bride home."
"Oh, how can I look maiden-like
When maiden I am none?
For six fair sons have I had by you
And a seventh coming on."
"Oh, you will bake my bread," he said,
"And you will keep my home.
And you will welcome my lady gay
When I bring my new bride home."
And by the door there's a silken towel,
Hung with a silver pin,
So that Fair Annie she might wipe her eyes
As she goes out and in.
Now, six months gone and nine coming on
And she thought the time o'er long
And she's taken a spyglass all in her hand
And up to her tower she has run.
She has lookèd east, she has lookèd west
She has looked all under the sun
And who should she see but Lord Thomas
A-bringin' of his new bride home.
And she has called her seven sons
By one, by two, by three
And she has said to her eldest son
"Come tell me what you see."
And he's lookèd east, he has lookèd west
He has looked all under the sun
And who should he see but his father dear
A-bringin' of his bridal home.
"Oh, shall I dress in green?" she said
Or shall I dress in black?
Or shall I go down to the raging main
And send my soul for to wrack?"
"No, you need not dress in green," he said
"And you need not dress in black
But you'll throw open the great hall doors
And you'll welcome my father back."
And it's "Welcome, welcome, Lord Thomas," she said,
And you're welcome unto me.
And welcome, welcome, your merry men all
That you've brought from across the sea."
And she's servèd them the best of the wine
And she's servèd them all 'round
But she's drunk water down from the well
For to keep her spirits down.
Now six months gone, and time coming on
And she thought the time o'er long
And she's taken her flute all in her hand
And up to her bower she has run.
She has fluted east, she has fluted west
She has fluted loud and shrill
And she wished that her sons were seven greyhounds
And she a fox on the hill.
Then it's, "Come down the stairs," the new bride said,
Come down the stairs to me.
And tell me the name of your father dear
And I'll tell mine to thee."
"Well, King Douglas it is my father's name
And Queen Chatron is my mother;
And Sweet Mary, she's my sister dear
And Prince Henry is my brother."
"If King Douglas it is your father's name
And Queen Chatron is your mother
Then I am sure I'm your sister dear
As Prince Henry is our brother."
"And I have seven ships at sea
They are loaded to the brim.
And six of them I shall give to you
When we've had Lord Thomas hung
And six of them I shall give to you
And one for to carry me home."
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