HERE’S A NEWFOUNDLAND VERSION of a British murder ballad, which drifted its way all over North America, and found some success later on as a cowboy song.
It found its way to us via an album titled Green Fields Of Illinois,” put out by the Campus Folksong Club of the University of Illinois in 1963. The album was a collection of folk songs sung by regular folks who hailed from southern Illinois, so it’s possible at least, that at the time of our fair city’s founding it was already a part of the musical repertoire of the area.
Fair Fanny Moore
Traditional, origin and date unknown
Down in yonder cottage all forsaken and alone,
Its paths all neglected, with grass overgrown;
Look in and you will see some dark stains upon the floor,
They say it is the blood of the fair Fanny Moore.
To Fanny so blooming two lovers there came,
One offered to Fanny his wealth and his fame;
But neither his houses nor his lands could secure
A place in the heart of the fair Fanny Moore.
The first was young Randal so bold and so proud,
He to the young Fanny his haughty head bowed;
But neither his gold nor his silver could secure
A place in the heart of the fair Fanny Moore.
The next was young Henry of the lowest degree,
He gained her fond heart and in rapture was he;
That night at the altar he was bound for to secure
A place in the heart of the fair Fanny Moore.
As Fanny was sitting in her cottage one day,
And business had called her fond husband away,
Young Randal so haughty came in at the door,
And clasped in his arms the fair Fanny Moore.
Saying, Fanny, oh Fanny, reflect on your fate,
And grant me one favour before it’s too late;
For there is one thing I am bound for to secure,
The love or the life of the fair Fanny Moore.”
“Spare me, oh spare me,” the fair Fanny cried,
While the tears swiftly flowed from her beautiful eyes.
“Go,” said her traitor, “to the land of thy rest.”
And he buried his knife in her snowy-white breast.
Fanny so blooming in her bloody beauty died,
Young Randal was taken, found guilty and tried.
At length he was hung on a tree in front the door,
For shedding the blood of the fair Fanny Moore.
Young Henry the shepherd he ran ‘stracted and wild,
And wandered away from his own native isle;
At length struck by death he was brought to the shore,
And laid by the side of the fair Fanny Moore.
