> Folk Music > Songs > Prince Robert / Lord Abore and Mary Flynn / Harry Saunders
Prince Robert / Lord Abore and Mary Flynn / Harry Saunders
[
Roud 55
; Child 87
; Ballad Index C087
; Prince Robert at Fire Draw Near
; DT PRINROBT
, LORDABOR
; Mudcat 15291
, 92365
; trad.]
Frank Feeney learned Lord O’Bore “from his wife who was a Carlow woman”. He sang it at home in Galloping Green, Foxrock, Co Dublin, on 5 December 1970 to Tom Munnelly and Hugh Shields. Jim Kelly learned Lord Abore from Frank Feeney and sang it to Tom Munnelly in O’Donoghue’s pub, Merrion Row, Dublin, in May 1970. Both recordings were included in 1985 on the Folk Music Society of Ireland anthology Early Ballads in Ireland 1968-1985, which was reissued on CD in 2015 by An Goílín.
Peggy Seeger sang Harry Saunders in 1976 on her and Ewan MacColl’s Larrikin album No Tyme Lyke the Present. She noted:
In the ballads, blood flows thicker than water, and a good deal more often. The bulk of the strife is in the family, but it is rare to find a mother killing her son—her baby boy perhaps, but not her grown son. It is common, however, in both life and art to find conflict between the mother and the son’s wife. In Harry Saunders (given the title of Prince Robert by Child) the struggle culminates in the death of the son. In one of Child’s texts, there is a revealing verse:
It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither,
I dinna ken what it is here,
To like your wife better than your mither,
That … bought you sae dear.In spite of the missing words, the meaning is clear. But the ballad is very rare. It is from the singing of F.C. Gainer of Tanner, Gilmer County, West Virginia.
Al O’Donnell sang Lord Abore and Mary Flynn in 1978 on his Transatlantic / The Leader Tradition album Al O’Donnell 2.
Jackie Oates sang Lord Abore and Mary Flynn in 2006 on her eponymous first album Jackie Oates. She noted:
This is an Irish version of Child ballad 87 Prince Robert taught to me by Sean O’Shee of Exeter. The song is a harrowing insight into the consequences of a mother’s overbearing motherliness!
Ewan McLennan sang Prince Robert in 2014 on his Fellside album Stories Still Untold. He commented:
This is a folk song that is typical of the more dark and epic murder stories involving parents’ jealousy and fury towards a marriage they see as unacceptable.
It first appeared in Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border in 1802 and became ‘Child #87’ in Francis J. Child’s seminal collection The English and Scottish Popular Ballads, where he published several variations of the text. In this recording I’m singing the text version from Motherwell’s Minstrelsy Ancient and Modern collected from a Mrs Thompson. Although it shares some ‘floating verses’, the story in Prince Robert seems to be unique amongst the classic ballads.
The words were never printed with music and the melody that might have been sung with this ballad has been long lost. After trying, without great result, to write music for the song I put it to the tune of a similar Irish ballad, Lord Abore and Mary Flynn—it seems to work.
Lankum sang Lord Abore and Mary Flynn in 2023 on their Rough Trade album False Lankum. They noted:
Lord Abore and Mary Flynn is an Irish version of the ballad Prince Robert (Child 87). Although Scottish in origin, this is the only version that could safely be said to have survived in the tradition. Although there is a related American ballad called Harry Saunders, this appears to be a relatively modern recreation of the song. It was thought to be extinct in this part of the world until the song collector Tom Munnelly happened to hear it being sung in a Dublin pub in 1969. The singer was Jim Kelly who had learnt it from Frank Feeney of Galloping Green, who in turn had learned it from his wife, a Carlow woman, whose name is, unfortunately, not noted. The two men can be heard singing their respective versions of the song on the album Early Ballads in Ireland 1968-1985.
Lyrics
Frank Feeney sings Lord O’Bore
Lord O’Bore and Mary Flynn
The two were children young,
They were scarcely fourteen years of age
When love between them sprung,
When love between them sprung.
Lord O’Bore was going out one day
And says his mother to him,
“You’re going away, dear son,” she says,
“You’ll drink before you’ll go,
Oh, you’ll drink before you’ll go.”
She brought him down a bottle of wine
And filled a glass for him,
With her false, her false, with her two fingers
She put strong poison in,
Oh, she put strong poison in.
“Oh why, oh why dear mother,” he says,
“You’ve poisoned me full sore?
“Oh indeed it’s true, dear son,” she says,
“You’ll see Mary Flynn no more,
Oh, you’ll see Mary Flynn no more.”
“Is there anybody in this house,” he says,
“Would go on a message for me,
Would go unto Mary Flynn’s tower
And bring her here to me,
Oh, bring her here to me?”
Up spoke a pretty-faced little boy
Who was his sister’s son:
“Oh, I often went on your message before
But it’s now I have need to run,
Oh, it’s now I have need to run.”
“Where are you going, my pretty little boy,
Or what brought you here to me?
Your grandma ’pared a place for you
And now invited thee,
Oh, now invited thee.”
“Your grandma ’pared no place for me
Nor either invited thee.”
And soon she guessed of her pretty little boy
That Lord O’Bore was dead,
Oh, Lord O’Bore was dead.
“Come saddle for me the swiftest horse,
Come saddle for me the bay.
Come saddle for me the swiftest horse
That ever ran that way,
Oh, that ever ran that way.”
When she went to Lord O’Bore’s tower
She stepped into the hall,
Oh, the sheets were spread and the torches burn…
“What brought you here, Mary Flynn?” she says,
“What brought you here to me?”
“Oh, the ring that’s on his little finger
I came to crave of thee,
Oh, I came to crave of thee.”
“No ring, no ring, Mary Flynn” she says,
“No ring have I for thee.
For the pain of death it came so quick,
It split the ring in three,
Oh, it split the ring in three.
She laid her feet beneath his feet,
Her side down by his side.
She laid her head beneath his head
And immediately she died,
Oh, immediately she died.
Jim Kelly sings Lord Abore
Lord Abore and Mary Flynn
Were both children young,
They were scarcely fourteen years of age
𝄆 When love between them sprung. 𝄇
Now Lord Abore was going out one day
And when his mother came to know,
“You are going away, my son,” she said,
𝄆 “You will drink before you’ll go.” 𝄇
She called for a cask of the very best wine
And filled a glass for him,
To her fault, her fault, with her two fingers
𝄆 She put strong poison in. 𝄇
“Oh why, oh why, dear mother,” he says,
“Have you poisoned me full sore?”
“It is so, my son,” she says to him,
𝄆 “You’ll see Mary Flynn no more.” 𝄇
“Is there anybody in this household,” he said,
“ Who will go on an errand for me?
Who will ride to Mary Flynn’s high tower
𝄆 And fetch her here to me? ” 𝄇
And then up spoke a young servant boy,
“I’m your faithful servant,” said he,
“I will ride to Mary Flynn’s high tower
𝄆 And fetch her here to thee.” 𝄇
And when he came to Mary Flynn’s tower
He stepped into the hall,
The tables were laid and the music played
𝄆 And the ladies were dancing all. 𝄇
“What’s brought you here, my pretty little boy
What’s brought you here to me?
Has my grandmother set a place for you
𝄆 Or yet invited thee?” 𝄇
“Your grandmother set no place for me
Nor invited me,” he said.
And then she learned from the servant boy
𝄆 That lord Abore was dead. 𝄇
“Come saddle for me my swiftest steed
Come saddle for me the bay
That I may ride to my true love’s side
𝄆 Without the least delay.” 𝄇
And when she came to lord Abore’s tower,
She stepped into the hall.
The tables were laid and the sheets were spread
And 𝄆 the torches burning all. 𝄇
She lay her cheek down by his cheek,
Her side down by his side.
She lay her cheek down by his cheek,
𝄆 Then Mary Flynn she died. 𝄇
Al O’Donnell sings Lord Abore and Mary Flynn
Lord Abore and Mary Flynn
Were both children young,
They were scarcely fourteen years of age
𝄆 When love between them sprung. 𝄇
Now Lord Abore was going out one day
And when his mother came to know,
“You are going away, my son,” she said,
𝄆 “You will drink before you go.” 𝄇
She called for a cask of the very best wine
And filled a glass for him,
To her fault, her fault, with her two fingers
𝄆 She put strong poison in. 𝄇
“Oh why, oh why, dear mother,” he says,
“Have you poisoned me full sore?”
“It is so, my son,” she said to him,
𝄆 “You’ll see Mary Flynn no more.” 𝄇
“Is there anyone in this household,” he said,
“Who will go on an errand for me?
Who will ride to Mary Flynn’s high tower
𝄆 And fetch her here to me?” 𝄇
And then up spoke a young servant boy,
“I’m your faithful servant,” said he,
“I will ride to Mary Flynn’s high tower
𝄆 And fetch her here to thee.” 𝄇
And when he came to Mary Flynn’s tower
He stepped into the hall,
The tables were laid and the music played
𝄆 And the ladies were dancing all. 𝄇
“What brought you here, my pretty little boy
What brought you here to me?
Has my grandmother set a place for you
𝄆 Or yet invited thee?” 𝄇
“Your grandmother set no place for me
Nor invited me,” he said.
And then she learned from the servant boy
𝄆 That Lord Abore was dead. 𝄇
“Come saddle for me my swiftest steed,
Come saddle for me the bay,
That I may ride to my true love’s side
𝄆 Without the least delay.” 𝄇
And when she came to Lord Abore’s tower
She stepped into the hall,
The tables were laid and the sheets were spread
𝄆 And the torches burning all. 𝄇
What brought you here, Mary Flynn” she said,
“What brought you here to me?”
“Oh, the ring that’s on his little finger
𝄆 I came to crave of thee.” 𝄇
“No ring, no ring, Mary Flynn,” she says,
“No ring have I for thee.
For the pain of death it came so quick,
It split the ring in three,
Oh, it split the ring in three.
She lay her cheek down by his cheek,
Her side down by his side.
She lay her cheek down by his cheek
And then Mary Flynn she died,
And Mary Flynn she died.
Jackie Oates sings Lord Abore and Mary Flynn
Lord Abore and Mary Flynn were both children young,
Scare but thirteen years of age, love between them sprung.
Now Lord Abore was going out one day and when his mother came to know,
“You are going away, my son,” she said, “you will drink before you go.”
She’s fetched a cask of the very best wine and poured a glass for him,
But false, false with her two fingers she put strong poison in.
And, “Why, oh why, my mother,” he said, “have you poisoned me full sore?”
“It is so, my own young son,” she said, “You will see Mary Flynn no more,
You shall see Mary Flynn no more.”
“Is there anybody here in this household will go on an errand for me?
Who will go to Mary Flynn’s high tower and send her here to me?”
Then up and spoke a little serving boy, “I’m your faithful man,” says he,
“I will go to Mary Flynn’s high tower and send her here to thee.”
And when he’s got to her high tower and walked into the hall,
Oh the tables were laid and the sheets outspread, and the candles burning all.
“How came you here?” Mary Flynn she said, “How came you here to me?
Has my grandmother set a place for you or yet invited thee?”
“No, your grandmother’s not set a place for me or invited me,” he said,
And then he told this Mary Flynn that Lord Abore was dead,
That Lord Abore was dead.
“Go saddle me my bonny white steed, go saddle me my grey,
That I might ride to his high tower without the least delay.”
And when she’s got to his high tower and walked into the hall,
Oh the tables were laid and the sheets outspread, and the candles burning all.
“How came you here, Mary Flynn?” she said, “How came you here to me?”
“Oh the ring that was on his left finger I’ve come to begot of thee.”
“No ring, no ring, Mary Flynn,” she said, “No ring have I for thee,
For the pain of death it came so sharp, it split the ring in three.”
She’s laid her head down by his head and her side down by his side,
She’s laid her breast down by his breast, and Mary Flynn she died.