> A.L. Lloyd > Songs > Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor
> Peter Bellamy > Songs > Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor
> Martin Carthy > Songs > Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor
> Dave Swarbrick > Songs > Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor

Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor

[ Roud 4 ; Child 73 ; Ballad Index C073 ; trad.]

This ballad was collected by F.J. Child (Child 73, Lord Thomas and Fair Annet) and sung by A.L. Lloyd in 1956 on Volume IV of his and Ewan MacColl's anthology of Child's songs, The English and Scottish Popular Ballads. Lloyd also later included the song in his Penguin Book of English Folk Songs.

Bob Copper recorded Lord Thomas for his 1977 album, Sweet Rose in June: Countryside Songs from the South. Peter Bellamy learned Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor from the repertoire of the Copper Family. He sang it live at the Cockermouth Folk Club in January 1991. This concert was published on his cassette Songs an' Rummy Conjurin' Tricks.

Martin Carthy sang Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor on his and Dave Swarbrick's 2006 album Straws in the Wind. He commented in the album's sleeve notes:

Lord Thomas is a twerp whose mother thinks that the sun shines out of his saddle sores. Does a lot of riding does our Thomas, what with all the to-ing and fro-ing between his place, his mother's place, the penniless but very lofty and fragrant (where O where have we heard that word before?) Fair Eleanor in her gaff and his imminent wedding. Seems that Thomas and Eleanor think of the Brown Girl as nothing more than some nouveau riche arriviste unworthy of his attentions—except (as far as he is concerned) for that damnably interesting “rich” part following on from the loathed “nouveau” and preceding the equally contemptible “arriviste” bit. Eleanor's mother, however, is possessed of at least half a brain and is far from blind to this disaster waiting to happen, but even her focused warnings fail to stem her daughter's drive to impale herself on her own spite. The one truly lamented casualty here is the Brown Girl, whose love is thrown back in her face but whose riposte is swift, silent and final. Costs her her own life though. A.L. Lloyd is right when he says that some of the Scots oral versions have small illuminating extras, so while ditching the last two “Rose and Briar” verses which seem to me our of place, I've taken a couple of others from those Scots sets in order to underline the fragrant Eleanor's real malice aforethought. It's from Somerset and Cecil Sharp.

Lyrics

Peter Bellamy sings Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor

Lord Thomas, he was a bold forester
And the keeper of our lord's deer.
Fair Eleanor, she was a lady gay,
𝄆 Lord Thomas he loved her so dear. 𝄇

“So come riddle to me, dear mother,” he said,
“Come riddle it all as one,
Whether I should marry with Fair Eleanor
𝄆 Or bring the brown girl home.” 𝄇

“Well, the brown girl she has riches and land,
Fair Eleanor she has none.
And so I charge you do my bidding
𝄆 And bring the brown girl home.” 𝄇

So he's rode till he's come to Fair Eleanor's bower
Loudly the bell he did ring.
There was none so ready as Fair Eleanor herself
𝄆 For to rise and bid him in. 𝄇

“And what news, what news, Lord Thomas,” she said,
“What news have you brought to me?”
“I have come to invite you to my wedding
𝄆 And that's sad news for thee.” 𝄇

“Come riddle to me, dear mother,” she said,
“Come riddle it all as one,
Whether I should go to Lord Thomas's wedding
𝄆 Or bide with thee at home.” 𝄇

“Well, many are your friends,” she said,
“But thousands are your foes.
And so I charge you do my bidding
𝄆 And bide with me at home.” 𝄇

But she has dressed herself in the shining white,
Her merry men all in green.
And every town that they rode through,
𝄆 They took her to be some queen. 𝄇

And she's rode till she's come to Lord Thomas's hall
Loudly the bell she did ring.
There was none so ready as Lord Thomas himself
𝄆 For to rise and bid her in. 𝄇

And he's taken her by the lily-white hand,
He's led her through the hall,
He sat her down at his right side
𝄆 Above the ladies all. 𝄇

Now the brown girl she had a little pen knife,
It was ground both keen and sharp,
And between the long ribs and the small
𝄆 She's pierced Fair Eleanor's heart. 𝄇

“What ails you, lady?” Lord Thomas said,
“For you look most wondrous wan,
And you used to have the fairest colour
𝄆 That e'er the sun shone on.” 𝄇

“Oh are you blind, Lord Thomas?” she said,
“So blind that you cannot see?
For I fear, I fear my own heart's blood
𝄆 Run trickling to my knee?” 𝄇

With his sword he cut off the brown girl's head
And he dashed it against the wall.
Then he set the hilt upon the ground
𝄆 And upon the point he did fall. 𝄇

“Now come dig my grave,” Lord Thomas said,
”Dig it long, wide, and deep,
And place Fair Eleanor in my arms
𝄆 And the brown girl at my feet. 𝄇

Martin Carthy sings Lord Thomas and Fair Eleanor

Lord Thomas, he was a bold forester
And chasener of the King's deer.
Fair Eleanor, she was a fair woman,
Lord Thomas he loved her dear.

“Oh riddle, oh riddle, dear mother,” he cries,
“Oh riddle it both as one,
Whether I'll marry fair Ellen or not
And leave the brown girl alone.”

“Oh, the brown girl she's got houses and land,
Fair Eleanor she's got none.
Therefore I charge thee to my blessing
To bring the brown girl home.”

Lord Thomas, he went to fair Eleanor's tower
And he knocked so loud on the ring.
There was none so ready as Ellen herself
To let Lord Thomas in.

“What news, what news, Lord Thomas,” she cries,
“What news do you bring unto me?”
“Oh, I've come to invite you to my wedding
Beneath the sycamore tree.”

“Oh God forbid, Lord Thomas,” she cries,
“That any such thing should be done.
For I thought to have been the bride myself
And you to have been the groom.”

“Oh riddle, oh riddle, dear mother,” she cries,
“Oh riddle it both as one,
Whether I go to Lord Thomas's wedding
Or better I stay at home.”

“There's a hundred of your friends, dear child,
A hundred of your foes.
Therefore I beg you with all my blessing
To Lord Thomas's wedding don't go.”

But she dressed herself in best attire,
And her merry men all in green.
And every town that she went through,
They took her to be some queen.

Lord Thomas, he took her all by the hand,
And he led her all through the hall,
And he sat her down in the noblest chair,
Among the ladies all.

“Is this your bride, Lord Thomas,” she cries,
“I'm sure she looks wonderful brown.
When you used to have the fairest young lady
That ever the sun shone on.”

“Despise her not,” Lord Thomas, he cries,
“Despise her not unto me.
For more do I love your little finger
Than all of her whole body.”

And he'd a rose all in his hand,
And he's given it kisses three,
And reaching across the brown girl herself,
He laid it on Eleanor's knee.

Oh, the brown girl, she had a little pen-knife,
And it was both long and sharp,
And between the long ribs and the short,
She pierced fair Eleanor's heart.

“Oh, what is the matter?” Lord Thomas, he cries,
“Oh cannot you very well see?
And can you not see my own heart's blood
Come trickling down my knee?”

Lord Thomas's sword is hung by his side
As he walked up and down the hall.
And he took off the brown girl's head from her shoulders
And flung it against the wall.

Oh, he put the handle to the ground
And the sword unto his heart.
No sooner did these three lovers meet,
No sooner did three lovers part.

Oh he put the handle to the ground
And on it he did fall.
And there was an end of these three lovers
Through spite and malice and gall.

Acknowledgements

Lyrics taken from The Penguin Book of English Folk Songs, ed. Ralph Vaughan Williams and A.L. Lloyd, Penguin, 1959:70, and adapted to the actual singing of Martin Carthy by Garry Gillard.