Well it's of two bothers a-going to school
A-going to the very same school
And one of them to the other said
Can you take a wrestle and fall ?

And the very first fall the eldest gave
He fell into the ground
And he's taken out his little penknife
And he's given him a deadly wound

Take me up take me up all in your arms
And carry me to yonder church ground
And dig a grave both wide and deep
And gently lay me down

O he's took him up all in his arms
And he's carried him to yonder church ground
And he's dug a grave both wide and deep
And gently laid him down

And what shall I tell my mother dear
This night when I go home
Just tell her I'm running in yonder green wood
A-bringing my school books home

And what shall I tell your Suzie dear
This night when I go home
Just tell her I'm down in yonder churchyard
A-buried beneath the ground

But she's wept and she's cried so bitterly
She's wept from door to door
And she's wept him away from his own gravestone
For rest he could find no more

And why do you weep my Suzie dear
And why do you weep for me
It's just one kiss from your clay lips
That's all I ask of thee

Then go home, go home, my Suzie dear
Go home and leave me be
And don't stay here to weep and mourn
For my body you'll never more see

And it's of two bothers a-going to school
A-going to the very same school
And one of them to the other said
Can you take a wrestle and fall ?

TWO BROTHERS  from Digitrad

There were twa brothers at the school
And when they'd won awa'
It's will ye play at the stane chucking
Or will ye play at ball
Or will ye gae up yon bonnie green hill
And there we'll wrestle a fa'

Oh, I winnae play at the stane chucking
Nor will I play at the ba'
But I will gae up yon bonnie green hill
And there we'll wrestle a fa'

They wrestled up, they wrestled down
Till John fell tae the ground
And a dirk fell oot o' William's pouch
Gi'ed John a deadly wound

"Oh, lift me, lift me on yer back
Tak' me tae yon well sea fair
And wash the blood fae off my wound
That it may bleed nae mair"

He's lifted him on tae his back
Ta'en him tae yon well sae fair
And he's washed the blood fae off his wound
But aye it bled the mair

"It's ye'll tak' off yer Holland sark
Rive it fae gare tae gare
An' stap it on my bloody wound
That it may bleed nae mair"

So he's ta'en off his Holland sark
Rived it fae gare tae gare
An' he's staped it in the bloody wound
But it bled mair and mair

"Oh, lift me, lift me on yer back
Tak' me tae Kirklan' fair
An' dig my grave baith wide and deep
And lay my body there

Ye'll lay my arrows at my head
My gude bow at my feet
My sword and buckler by my side
As I was wont tae sleep"

Child #49 --- see also EDWARD1
looks like it would sing to ROLLSTON
@family @death @family
recorded by Jean Redpath
filename TWOBROS
SF

THE TWO BROTHERS  from Digitrad

Monday morning go to school,
Friday evening home.
Brother, comb my sweetheart's hair
As we go walking home

Brother, won't you play a game of ball ?
Brother, won't you toss a stone ?
Brother, won't you play no other game
As we go marching home ?

I can't play no game of ball,
I can't toss no stone,
I can't play no other game.
Brother, leave me alone.

Brother took out his little penknife,
It was sharp and keen.
He stuck it in his own brother's heart,
It caused a deadly wound.

Brother, take off your little check shirt,
Stitched from gore to gore;
Bind it around the deadly wound.
It won't bleed no more.

Brother took off his little check shirt,
Stitched from gore to gore ;
Bound it around the deadly wound.
It didn't bleed no more.

Brother, O brother, go dig my grave,
Dig it wide and deep.
Bury my bible at my head,
My hymn book at my feet.

He buried his bible at his head,
His hymn book at his feet,
His bow and arrow by his side,
And now he's fast asleep.

Child #49
From English Folk Songs in the Southern Appalachians, Sharp
Collected from Mrs. Lizzie Roberts and Mrs. Smith, NC 1916
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filename TWOBROS2
RG

THE TWO BROTHERS  from Digitrad

Two brothers they have just returned
Their pleasures are all sincere.
I want to see my pretty Susie
The girl I loved so dear.

You're not the one that loves Susie,
And here I'll spill your blood.
He drew a knife both keen and sharp
And pierced it through his heart.

What will you tell my father dear
When he calls for his son John?
I'll tell him you're in the western woods
A-learning your hounds to run.

What will you tell my mother dear
When she calls for her son John ?
I'll tell her you're in the Tennessee
A lesson there to learn.

What will you tell my pretty Susie
When she calls for true love John ?
I'll tell her you're in your silent grave,
Where never no more to return.

She took her bible in her hand,
A-moaning she went on.
She moaned till she came to his silent grave.
In search of her true love John.

What do you want, my pretty Susie ?
What do you want with me ?
I want a kiss from your clay-cold lips,
'Tis all I ask of thee.

If I were to kiss your rosy cheeks
My breath it is too strong.
If I were to kiss your ruby lips,
You would not stay here long.

So now go home, my pretty Susie,
And moan no more for me,
For you may moan to Eternity,
My face no more you'll see.

Child #49
From English Folk Songs in the Southern Appalachians, Sharp
Collected from Mrs. Rosie Smith, VA, 1916
Note: Some Unquiet Grave seems to have drifted in here. RG
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filename TWOBROS3
RG

THE TWO BROTHERS  from Digitrad

O brother, can you toss the stone
Or can you play the ball?
I am too little, I am too young
Go, brother, leave me alone

His brother took his little penknife,
He hung it by his side,
He put it deeply deathly wound
As it hung by his side.

O brother, take my holland shirt,
And rip it from gore to gore;
You tie it around my bleeding wound
And still it'll bleed no more.

His brother took his holland shirt
And ripped it from gore to gore;
He tied it around his bleeding wound,
But still it bled the more.

O brother, take me on your back,
Carry me to Chesley Town;
You dig me a deep and large, wide grave
And lay me there so sound.

You put my bible at my head,
My solberd (psalter?) at my feet,
My little bow and arrow by my side,
And sounder I will sleep.

His brother took him on his back,
He carried him to Chesley Town;
He dug him a deep and large, wide grave
And laid him there so sound.

He put his bible at his head,
His solberd at his feet,
His little bow and arrow at his side,
So sounder he will sleep.

O brother, as you go home at night
And my mother asks for me,
You'll tell her I'm along with some schoolboys,
So merry I'll come home.

And if my true love asks for me,
The truth to her you'll tell;
You'll tell her I'm dead and in grave laid
And buried in Chesley Town.

With my bible at my head,
My solberd at my feet,
My little bow and arrow at my side,
And sounder I will sleep.

And as his brother went home at night,
His mother asked for him.
He told he's along with some schoolboys,
So merry he'll come home.

And then his true love asked for him ;
The truth to her he told.
He told he was dead and in grave laid
And buried in Chesley Town,

With his Bible at his head,
His solberd at his feet,
His little bow and arrow at his side,
So sounder he will sleep.

And then his true love put on small hoppers
And tied them with silver strings.
She went hopping all over her true lover's grave
A twelve-months and a day.

She hopped the red fish out of the sea,
The small birds out of their nests ;
She hopped her true love out of his grave,
So he can't see no rest.

Go home, go home, you rambling reed;
Don't weep nor mourn for me;
For if you do for twelve long years,
No more you'll see of me.

Child #49
From English Folk Songs in the Southern Appalachians, Sharp
Collected from Mrs. Margaret Dunagan, KY, 1917
Note: I like the hoppers. Probably a folk-processing of "harp"
and "harped" RG
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filename TWOBROS4
RG