Down in the Willow Garden
“Down in the Willow Garden” brings us a tune with slightly different roots, and an interesting story about branches. It’s the first ballad we’ve taken up with distinctively Irish origins. For our first post this week, we’ll introduce the ballad a bit, with some of its earliest recorded performances, and a discussion of its ties back to Ireland and how it grew differently there.
In the next post, I’ll explain the reason why this song probably has more to do with why I wanted to start this blog than any other song in the genre. Later this week, I’ll offer some thoughts, or at least some questions, about women and children and the murder ballad. Don’t worry, gentle reader, we’ll slow down a bit from the pace of last week, but I hope you’ll find a few things worth taking away from our discussion.
“Down in the Willow Garden,” by the Smoky Mountain Band — Instrumental (Spotify)
The tune for the song is drawn from “Old Rosin the Beau.” (Spotify).
There a number of variations on the lyrics, but the lyrics of the song, as I usually sing it, are below (from memory).
Down in the willow garden,
Where me and my true love did meet.
It was there we sat a-courtin’
And my love fell off to sleep.
I’d had a bottle of the burgundy* wine
Which my true love she did not know
It was there I murdered that dear little girl
Down on the banks below.
I drew a sabre through her
Which was a bloody knife
I threw her in the river
Which was an awful sight.
My father often told me
That money would set me free
If I did murder that dear little girl
Whose name was Rose Connolly
Now he sits alone at his cabin door.
A-wiping his tear-dimmed eyes
While he gazes on his own dear son
Upon that scaffold high
My race is run beneath the sun
The devil** is waiting for me
For I did murder that dear little girl
Whose name was Rose Connolly.
* Many versions use “Burglar’s wine” to indicate more clearly that the wine is poisoned. The killer thus kills Rose three ways.
** Some versions replace “The devil” with “low Hell.”
So, we have here a pretty straightforward murder ballad, in the “first-person confession” style, like “Banks of the Ohio,” or “Lily of the West.” The tale is similar to “Omie Wise” as well, but without the dialogue. It’s most likely a variant of “The Wexford Girl.”
It was this song and Frankie and Johnny that initiated me into this world of murder ballads, on David Grisman’s _Home Is Where the Heart Is_ way back when we were first getting to know each other in college Ken.
This song struck me quite differently than “Frankie and Johnny.” Somehow F&J just sounded bawdy and violent in a way that didn’t surprise me. I think I knew music like that existed. “Down in the Willow Garden” though, now that was something new for me. At first I thought it was limited to bluegrass! I still think of it in an entirely different way, though I met both songs on the same album.
Much more to say about this as they days move along… Awesome introduction! I love the willows.
I still vaguely remember skipping back on my old cd player, after hearing (what I thought must be incorrectly) “I drew my sabre through her…” I didn’t know what to do with it. I was not yet comfortable with my own way of thinking, and it seemed like somehow this had to be wrong.
I remember one of my more doctrinaire friends simply writing it off as misogyny. Somehow I knew it wasn’t, though I wasn’t at all prepared to figure out just what it WAS! The lyrics spoke to the immorality of the act, and the confession was that of a young fool who’d followed his father’s bad advice. It all felt (feels) so real.
I learned to play the song, to close my eyes and see the story unfold. I just went upstairs and played it again (first time in a year or two.) It’s like popping in a DVD. It’s all still right there when I close my eyes and sing. I could never have articulated this way back when, but there is something about this song that stirs compassion deeply, not just for the victim but the killer/singer too.