The Third Part
The Ballad Sheet
Songs as they are sung in the ale-houses of the county, here set down word for word.
The Banshee's Song
Click the plate, and the matter is told panel by panel.
To be sung to a tavern stomp — slow at first, and merry after.
I. — slow, sultry
Little thief, oh little thief,
You've taken more than grief.
What you hide beneath the board
Was never yours, my lord.
Chorus
So hand it over, sweet and slow,
Hand it over, don't say no,
Dance with me, my pretty ones,
Till all your running's done!
Chorus — wilder
Hand it over, sweet and slow,
Hand it over, don't say no,
Dance with me, my pretty ones,
Till all your running's done!
Outro — whispered
…And I shall let you go.
The Mari Lwyd at the Door
a contest sung at the threshold, taken down at Moorshire, the old year out.
Without
Open your door, the night is thin,
a horse's skull would come within.
We've walked the lanes since Christmas fell,
and know your names, and wish you well.
Within
The night is thin, the latch is tight,
we keep no room for skulls tonight.
Sing us a verse we cannot best,
or take your bones back to their rest.
Without
Your beer is flat, your fire is low,
your wife has told the whole row so.
Rhyme against that, if rhyme you can —
we had it, sir, from your own man.
Within
Our beer is flat, we'll grant you true,
but flat beer's better shared with you
than kept from one who rhymes so fair.
Come in, come in — and mind the chair.
The Register notes: the door was opened, as the door is always, in the end, opened. The Mari drank, and rhymed, and left before cockcrow, and the skull was buried in lime till next year's asking.