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Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

[Child 81; trad. arr.]

This ballad of cheating and revenge murder was sung unaccompanied by Martin Carthy on his 1969 album with Dave Swarbrick, Prince Heathen. He commented in the album's sleeve notes:

The story speaks for itself and really needs nothing written about it at all. The tune I pinched from a version of the Holy Well.

And Nic Jones sang Little Musgrave on his first solo album, Ballads and Songs. He commented in his album sleeve notes:

Three very common ballads are included in this record: Sir Patrick Spens, The Outlandish Knight and Little Musgrave. All three are well-known to anyone with a knowledge of balladry, as they are well represented in most ballad collections. … Musgrave's tune is more a creation of my one than anything else, although the bulk of it is based on an American variant of the same ballad, entitled Little Matty Groves.

See also Karen Myer's blog analysing Nic Jones' version.

Compare this to Sandy Denny singing Matty Groves on Fairport Convention's album Liege and Lief; there are many more Fairport versions of this song.

Lyrics

Martin Carthy sings Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard

On a day, on a day, on a bright holiday as many there be in the year
When Little Musgrave to the church did go, god's holy word to hear.

He went and he stood all at the church door; he watched the priest at his mass.
But he had more mind of the fair women than he had of Our Lady's grace.

For some of them were clad in the green and some were clad in the pall,
And in and come Lord Barnard's wife, the fairest among them all.

She cast her eye on Little Musgrave, full bright as the summer sun,
And then and thought this Little Musgrave, this lady's heart I have won.

Says she, “I have loved thee, Little Musgrave, full long and many's the day.”
“So have I loved, lady fair, yet never a word durst I say.”

“Oh I have a bower at Bucklesfordberry all daintily painted white
And if thou'd went thither, thou Little Musgrave, thou's lie in my arms all this night.”

Says he, “I thank thee, lady fair, this kindness thou showest to me
And this night will I to Bucklesfordberry, all night for to lay with thee.”

When he heard that, her little foot page all by her foot as he run
He says, “Although I am my lady's page, yet am I Lord Barnard's man.

My Lord Barnard shall know of this, whether I do sink or do swim.”
And ever where the bridges were broke, he laid to his breast and he swum.

“Oh sleep thou wake, thou Lord Barnard, as thou art a man of life.
For Little Musgrave is at Bucklesfordberry in bed with thine own wedded wife.”

“Oh if this be true, thou little foot page, this thing that thou tellest to me
Then all my land in Bucklesfordberry freely I give it to thee.

But if this be a lie, thou little foot page, this thing that thou tellest to me
Then from the highest tree in Bucklesfordberry high hanged thou shalt be.”

And he called to him his merry men, all by one by two by three,
Says, “this night must I to Bucklesfordberry, for never had I greater need.”

And he called to him his stable boy, “Go saddle me me milk-white steed.”
And he's trampled o'er them green mossy banks, till his horse's hooves did bleed.

And some men whistled, and some men sang, and some these words did say
Whene'er my Lord Barnard's horn blew, “Away, Musgrave away.”

“Methinks I hear the thistle cock, methinks I hear the jay,
Methinks I hear the Lord Barnard's horn, and I wish I were away.”

“Lie still, lie still, thou Little Musgrave, come cuddle me from the cold,
For tis nothing but a shepherd boy, adriving his sheep to the fold.

Is not thy hawk sat upon his perch, they steed eats oats and hay,
And thou with a fair maid in thy arms and would'st thou be away.”

With that my Lord Barnard come to the door and he lit upon a stone,
And he's drawn out three silver keys and he's opened the doors each one.

And he's lifted up the green coverlet and he's lifted up the sheet:
“How now, how now, thou Little Musgrave, dost find my lady sweet?”

“I find her sweet,” says Little Musgrave, “The more tis to my pain
For I would give three hundred pounds, that I was on yonder plain.”

“Rise up, rise up,” thou Little Musgrave, “and put thy clothes on
For never shall they say in my own country i slew a naked man.

Oh I have two swords in one scabbard, full dearly they cost my purse.
And thou shall have the best of them, and I shall have the worst.”

Now the very first blow Little Musgrave struck, he hurt Lord Barnard sore;
But the very first blow Lord Barnard struck, little Musgrave ne'er struck more.

Then up and spoke his lady fair, from the bed whereon she lay,
She says, “Although thou art dead, thou Little Musgrave, yet for thee will I pray.

I will wish well to thy soul, as long as I have life,
Yet will I not for thee Lord Barnard, though I am your own wedded wife.”

Oh he's cut the paps from off her breast, great pity it was to see
How the drops of this lady's heart's blood came a-trickling down her knee.

“Oh woe be to ye, me merry men, all you were ne'er born for my good.
Why did you not offer to stay my hand, when you see me grow so mad?”

“A grave, a grave,” Lord Barnard cried, “to put these lovers in.
But lay my lady on the upper hand, she was the chiefest of her kin.”

Nic Jones sings Little Musgrave

As it fell out upon a day, as many in the year,
Musgrave to the church did go to see fair ladies there.

And some came down in red velvet and some came down in pall,
And the last to come down was the Lady Barnard, the fairest of them all.

And she's cast a look on the little Musgrave as bright as the summer's sun.
And then bethought this little Musgrave, this lady's love I've won.

“Good day, good day, you handsome youth, God make you safe and free,
What would you give this day, Musgrave, to lie one night with me?”

“Oh, I dare not for my lands, lady, I dare not for my life,
For the ring on your white finger shows you are Lord Barnard's wife.”

“Lord Barnard's to the hunting gone and I hope he'll never return;
And you shall sleep into his bed and keep his lady warm.”

“There's nothing for to fear, Musgrave, you nothing have to fear.
I'll set a page outside the gates to watch till morning clear.”

And woe be to the little footpage and an ill death may he die,
For he's away to the greenwood as fast as he could fly.

And when he came to the wide water he fell on his belly and swam,
And when he came to the other side he took to his heels and ran.

And when he came to the greenwood, 'twas dark as dark can be,
And he found Lord Barnard and his men a-sleeping 'neath the trees.

“Rise up, rise up, master,” he said, “Rise up and speak to me.
Your wife's in bed with the little Musgrave, rise up right speedily.”

“If this be truth you tell to me then gold shall be your fee,
And if it be false you tell to me then hanged you shall be.”

“Go saddle me the black,” he said, “Go saddle me the grey,
And sound you not the horn,” said he, “Lest our coming it would betray.”

Now there was a man in Lord Barnard's train who loved the little Musgrave,
And he blew his horn both loud and shrill: “Away, Musgrave, away.”

“Oh, I think I hear the morning cock, I think I hear the jay,
I think I hear Lord Barnard's horn: Away, Musgrave, away.”

“Oh, lie still, lie still, you little Musgrave, and keep me from the cold.
It's nothing but a shepherd boy driving his flock to the fold.

Is not your hawk upon its perch, your steed has eaten hay,
And you a gay lady in your arms and yet you would away.”

So he's turned him right and round about and he fell fast asleep,
And when he woke Lord Barnard's men were standing at his feet.

“And how do you like my bed, Musgrave, and how do you like my sheets?
And how do you like my fair lady that lies in your arms asleep?”

“Oh, it's well I like your bed,” he said, “And well I like your sheets,
And better I like your fair lady that lies in me arms asleep.”

“Well get up, get up, young man,” he said, “Get up as swift you can,
For it never will be said in my country I slew an unarmed man.

I have two swords in one scabbard, full dear they cost me purse,
And you shall have the best of them and I shall have the worse.”

And so slowly, so slowly, he rose up and slowly he put on,
And slowly down the stairs he goes a-thinking to be slain.

The first stroke little Musgrave took it was both deep and sore,
And down he fell at Barnard's feet and word he never spoke more.

“And how do you like his cheeks, lady, and how do you like his chin?
And how do you like his fair body now there's no life within?”

“Oh, it's well I like his cheeks,” she said, “And well I like his chin.
And better I like his fair body than all your kith and kin.”

And he's taken up his long, long sword to strike a mortal blow,
And through and through the lady's heart the cold steel it did go.

As it fell out upon a day, as many in the year,
Musgrave to the church did go to see fair ladies there.

Acknowledgements

Transcribed from the singing of Martin Carthy by Garry Gillard.