Continuazione ideale del post musicale di mercoledì scorso, questo odierno va indietro nel tempo a ricercare versioni alternative alle due Murder Ballads presentate da Nick Cave nell’album omonimo.

La prima di queste proposte risale al 1963 s’intitola Love Henry ed è presentata dalla profonda voce di Judy Henske.

Questa versione ha una lunga introduzione parlata da parte della stessa cantante ed il brano vero e proprio inizia solo al minuto 4:49, si tratta tuttavia di quella con l’audio migliore.

Come in, Come in, my Love Henry, stay with me this night.
And you shall have both candle and coal, my fire burning bright.
Oh oh oh my fire burning bright.

Well, I won’t come in, I can’t come in, I won’t come in at all.
There’s a lady ten times fairer than you waiting in Lord Barnett’s Hall.
Oh oh oh ten times fairer than you.

And then he bended o’re her snow white pillow,
Give her a kissed so sweet
She drew her penknife in her hand – wounded him full deep.
Oh oh oh she wounded him full deep.

And then she picked him up by his long yellow hair
Also by his feet
She threw him in her cool, draw well full 50 fathoms deep.

Lie there, lie there, Love Henry, than she cried,
I know you will not swim
That lady ten times fairer than me will never see you again.
Oh oh oh she’ll never see you again.

Lie down, lie down, you pretty little bird.
Light upon my knee
Oh no, a girl who’d kill her own hearts love
Might hurt a little bird like me.

If I had my arrow in my hand
Bow on a tuneful string
I’d shoot a dart straight through your heart
You’d no longer sing.
Oh oh oh and you’d no longer sing.

Come in, Come in, my Love Henry, stay with me this night.
And you shall have both candle and coal, my fire burning bright.
Oh oh oh my fire burning bright.

La seconda, con lo stesso titolo, Love Henry, è cantata da Bob Dylan nel 1993.

“Get down, get down, Love Henry,” she cried.
“And stay all night with me.
I have gold chains, and the finest I have
I’ll apply them all to thee.”

“I can’t get down and I shan’t get down,
Or stay all night with thee.
Some pretty little girl in Cornersville
I love far better than thee.”

“He layed his head on a pillow of down.
Kisses she gave him three.
With a penny knife that she held in her hand
She murdered mortal he.”

“Get well, get well, Love Henry, ” She cried,
“Get well, get well,” said she.
“Oh don’t you see my own heart’s blood
Come flowin’ down so free?”

“She took him by his long yellow hair,
And also by his feet.
She plunged him into well water, where
It runs both cold and deep.”

“Lie there, lie there, Love Henry,” she cried,
“Til the flesh rots off your bones.
Some pretty little girl in Cornersville
Will mourn for your return.”

“Hush up, hush up, my parrot,” she cried,
“And light on my right knee.
The doors to your cage shall be decked with gold
And hung on a willow tree.”

“I won’t fly down, I can’t fly down
And light on your right knee.
A girl who would murder her own true love
Would kill a little birdlike me.”

Dopo queste due tra le più significative versioni americane, ve ne presento quella tradizionale, voce e violino, di James Finlay che reca l’originale titolo scozzese Young Hunting.

Young Hunting’s to the castle gone
As fast as he could ride
He’s a hunting horn about his waist
A broadsword by his side
A broadsword by his side

And when he came to the castle gates
He’s pulled all at the pin
No one so ready as the lady herself
To arise and let him in
Arise and let him in

You’re welcome here, my Young Hunting
For coal and candle lights
And so welcome are you, Young Hunting
To lie with me this night
To lie with me this night

I thank you for your light lady
So do I for your coal
But there’s a fairer woman than ten of thee
Meets me at Brandie’s Well
Meets me at Brandie’s Well

He bent down o’er his saddlebow
To kiss her ruby cheek
But she took out a little pen knife
And wounded him full deep
And wounded him full deep

She’s called on her maid Catherine
So long before the day
I have a dead man in my bower
I wish he was away
I wish he was away

They booted him and spurred him
As he was wont to ride
They’ve taken him to the wide water
They call the river Clyde
They call the river Clyde

One has taken him by his feet
The other one by his head
In the deepest parts of Clyde water
It’s there they made his bed
It’s there they made his bed

Lie there, lie there, you young Hunting
‘Til the blood seep from your bone
That fairer woman than ten of me
Will wait long ere you come home
Wait long ere you come home

Then up and spoke the bonny little bird
That stood all in the tree
Go home, go home, you false lady
Pay your maid her fee
And pay your maid her fee

Come down, come down, my bonny little bird
Come down into my hand
Your cage I’ll make of the fine beaten gold
Where now is the willow wand
Where now is the willow wand

Keep your cage of beaten gold
And I will keep my tree
For as you did with Young Hunting
You’d do the same with me
You’d do the same with me

And it fell out on the very next day
The king was going to ride
And he has sent for for Young Hunting
To ride all at his side
To ride all at his side

The lady swore by the grass so green
So did she by the corn
I saw not your son Young Hunting
Since yesterday at morn
Yesterday at morn

But I saw him ride to Clyde Water
I fear he’s drowned therein
And they have sent the divers bold
To dive for Young Hunting
To dive for Young Hunting

Then up and spoke the bonny little bird
That flew above their heads:
Dive on, dive on, you divers bold
For there he lies indeed
For there he lies indeed

But leave off your diving in the day
And dive all in the night
And where Young Hunting he lies slain
The candles will burn full bright
The candles will burn full bright

So they left off diving in the day
And dived all in the night
And where Young Hunting he lay slain
The candles burned full bright
The candles burned full bright

White, white were his wounds all washed
As white as a linen clout
But when the lady she came near
The blood come gushing out
The blood come gushing out

Well it’s surely been my maid Catherine
And ill may she betide
For I’d have never slain my Young Hunting
And thrown him in the Clyde
And thrown him in the Clyde

So they have taken the maid Catherine
And a bonfire set her in
But the fire wouldn’t take upon her cheek
Nor yet upon her chin
Nor yet upon her chin

So they’ve taken out the maid Catherine
They’ve thrown the lady in
And the fire took fast on her fair body
She burned like holly green
She burned like holly green

Per chi ha resistito fin qui, la versione inglese Earl Richard pubblicata da Tim Hart & Maddy Prior nel 1969 nell’album Folk Songs of Olde England 2.

“Oh light, oh light, Earl Richard,” she said,
“Oh light and stay the night
You shall have cheer with charcoal clear
And candles burning bright”

“I will not light, I cannot light
I cannot light at all
A fairer lady than ten of you
Is waiting now at Richard’s hall.”

He stooped down from his milk white steed
To kiss her rosy cheek
She had a pen knife in her hand
And wounded him so deep

“Oh lie ye there, oh lie ye there
Oh lie ye there till morn
A fairer lady than ten of me
Will think long of your coming home.”

She’s called the servants one by one
She’s called them two by two
“I have a dead man in my bower
I wish he were away.”

Then one’s a-take him by the hands
The other by the feet
They’ve thrown him in the deep draw-well
Full fifty fathom deep

Then up bespake a little bird
That sits upon a tree
“Go home, go home you false lady
And pay your maids a fee.”

“Come down, come down, oh my pretty bird
That sits upon the tree,
I have a cage of beaten gold
That I will give to thee.”

“Go home, go home you false lady
And pay your maids a fee.
For as you have done to Earl Richard
So would you do to me.”

“If I had an arrow in my hand
And a bow bent on a string
I’d shoot a dart at thy proud heart
Among the leaves so green.”

Ed infine, per gli amanti del Folk “estremo”, la versione solo vocale di Frankie Armstrong contenuta in Till the Grass O’ergrew the Corn, raccolta delle Child Ballads edita nel 1996.

Il testo è in parte simile alle versioni sopra riprodotte.

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