Monstrous Women

Since most of my research focuses on monstrous women these days and since so many people think I am one…

King Henry (originally an English/Scottish folk song)

Let never a man a wooing wend
That lacketh things three,
A store of gold, and open heart,
And full of charity;
And this was seen of King Henry
Though he lay quite alone,
For he’s taken him to a haunted hall
Seven miles from the town.

He’s chased the deer now him before
And the doe down by the den
Till the fattest buck in all the flock
King Henry he has slain.
His huntsmen followed him to the hall
To make them burly cheer,
When loud the wind was heard to sound
And an earthquake rocked the floor.

And darkness covered all the hall
Where they sat at their meat,
The grey dogs, yowling, left their food
And crept to Henry’s feet.
And louder howled the rising wind
And burst the fastened door,
And in there came a grisly ghost
Stramping on the floor.

Her head hit the roof-tree of the house,
Her middle you could not span,
Each frightened huntsman fled the hall
And left the king alone,
Her teeth were like the tether stakes,
Her nose like club or mell,
And nothing less she seemed to be
Than a fiend that comes form hell.

Some meat, some meat you King Henry,
Some meat you give to me,
Go kill your horse you King Henry
And bring him here to me;
He’s gone and slain his berry brown steed
Though it made his heart full sore,
For she’s eaten up both skin and bone
Left nothing but hide and hair.

More meat, more meat you King Henry
More meat you give to me,
Go Kill your greyhounds King Henry
And bring them here to me;
And when he’s slain his good greyhounds,

It made his heart full sore,
She’s eaten them up both skin and bone,
Left nothing but hide and hair.

More meat, more meat you King Henry
More meat you give to me,
Go fell your goshawks King Henry
And bring them here to me;
And when he’s slain his gay goshawks,
It made his heart full sore,
She’s eaten them up both skin and bone,
Left nothing but feathers bare.

Some drink, some drink now King Henry
Some drink you give to me,
Oh you sew up your horse’s hide
And bring in a drink to me,
And he’s sewed up the bloody hide
And a pipe of wine put in,
And she’s drank it up all in one draught
Left never a drop therein.

A bed, a bed now King Henry,
A bed you’ll make for me,
Oh you must pull the heather green
And make it soft for me;
And pulled has he the heather green
And made for her a bed,
And taken has he his gay mantle
And o’er it he has spread.

Take off your clothes now King Henry
And lie down by my side,
Now swear, now swear you King Henry
To take me for your bride.
Oh God forbid, says King Henry,
That ever the like betide,
That ever a fiend that comes from hell
Should stretch down by my side.

When the night was gone and the day was come
And the sun shone through the hall,
The fairest lady that ever was seen
Lay between him and the wall.
I’ve met with many a gentle knight
That gave me such a fill,
But never before with a courteous knight
That gave me all my will

 

Willie’s Lady (originally a Breton/Scandinavian folksong)

King Willie he’s sailed over the raging foam,
He’s wooed a wife and he’s brought her home.

He wooed her for her long golden hair,
His mother wrought her a mighty care.

A weary spell she’s laid on her:
She’d be with child for long and many’s the year
But a child she would never bear.

And in her bower she lies in pain.
King Willie at her bedhead he do stand
As down his cheeks salten tears do run.

King Willie back to his mother he did run,
He’s gone there as a begging son.

Says, “Me true love has this fine noble steed
The like of which you ne’er did see.

“At every part of this horse’s mane
There’s hanging fifty silver bells and ten
There’s hanging fifty bells and ten.

“This goodly gift shall be your own
If back to my own true love you’ll turn again
That she might bear her baby son.”

“Oh, the child she’ll never lighter be
Nor from sickness will she e’er be free.

“But she will die and she will turn to clay
And you will wed with another maid.”

Then sighing said this weary man
As back to his own true love he’s gone again,
“I wish my life was at an end.”

King Willie back to his mother he did run,
He’s gone there as a begging son.

Says, “Me true love has this fine golden girdle
Set with jewels all about the middle

At every part of this girdle’s hem
There’s hanging fifty silver bells and ten
There’s hanging fifty bells and ten.

This goodly gift shall be your own
If back to my own true love you’ll turn again
That she might bear her baby son.”

“Oh, of her child she’ll never lighter be
Nor from sickness will she e’er be free.

But she will die and she will turn to clay
And you will wed with another maid.”

Sighing says this weary man
As back to his own true love he’s gone again,
“I wish my life was at an end.”

Then up and spoke his noble queen
And she has told King Willie of a plan
How she might bear her baby son.

She says, “You must go get you down to the market place
And you must buy you a loaf of wax.

“And you must shape it as a babe that is to nurse
And you must make two eyes of glass.

“Ask your mother to a christening day,
And you must stand there close as you can be
That you might hear what she do say.”

King Willie he’s gone down to the market place
And he has bought him a loaf of wax.

And he has shaped it as a babe that is to nurse
And he has made two eyes of glass.

He asked his mother to a christening day
And he has stood there close as he could be
That he might hear what she did say.

How she spoke and how she swore,
She spied the babe where no babe could be before,
She spied the babe where none could be before.

Says, “Who was it who undid the nine witch knots
Braided in amongst this lady’s locks?

“And who was it who took out the combs of care
Braided in amongst this lady’s hair?

“And who was it slew the master kid
That ran and slept all beneath this lady’s bed
That ran and slept all beneath her bed?

“And who was it unlaced her left shoe
And who was it that let her lighter be
That she might bear her baby boy?”

And it was Willie who undid the nine witch knots
Braided in amongst this lady’s locks.

And it was Willie who took out the combs of care
Braided in amongst this lady’s hair.

And it was Willie the master kid did slay
And it was Willie who unlaced her left foot shoe
And he has let her lighter be.

And she is born of a baby son
And greater the blessings that be them upon
And greater the blessings them upon.

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