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She Was a Rum One

[ Roud 2128 ; G/D 7:1445 ; Ballad Index K190 ; trad.]

Jeannie Robertson sang She Was a Rum One to Alan Lomax in London in 1953. This track was included in 1998 on her Rounder anthology The Queen Among the Heather and with the title She Is a Rum One on the 2000 Rounder CD reissue of the Folks Songs of Britain anthology, Songs of Seduction. The first anthology’s booklet noted:

Bawdy songs like this one are widespread in Lowland Scotland. Jeannie’s version is closely related to one sung by traveller Davie Stewart.

Ewan MacColl sang She Was a Rum One in 1961 on his Folkways album Bothy Ballads of Scotland, and he and Peggy Seeger sang it in 1968 on their Argo album The Wanton Muse. Ewan MacColl noted:

“That’s a gey rauch (rough) sang” commented Rob Donald the Gamrie shepherd after hearing it for the first time, “but”, he went on, “it gets richt tae the hairt o’ the maitter.” And he was right.

From Jeannie Robertson of Aberdeen.

Ian Bruce sang She Was a Rum One in 1998 on his Greentrax album Hodden Grey.

Jimmy Hutchison sang She Was a Rum One in 2000 on his Tradition Bearers album of Scots songs and ballads, Corachree. He noted:

A song from the vast repertoire of the late Jeannie Robertson, who appeared to have had a kistfull of ‘earthy’ songs in which the sexual content was only thinly disguised by the lyrics.

Note: Harry Cox’s bawdy song She Was a Rum One (aka Walking Down Canal Street, The Girls of Lowestoft; Roud 17938 ; Ballad Index EM214 ) is a different song that is related to The House of the Rising Sun.

Lyrics

Jeannie Robertson sings She Was a Rum One

For as I strolled out on a clear moonlight,
One clear moon light in winter,
For ’twos there I met a pretty fair maid
And could na step no wider.

Chorus (after each verse):
She was a rum one, fol-de-doodle-i-o-aye
But a bonny one, fol-de-doodle i-do.

For she walk-ed up and she walk-ed down,
And I kept close behind her.
For I asked to her the reason why
She could na step no wider.

“Go away, go away, you foolish young man,
And stop such foolish talking,
For it does not suit young men,“ she said,
To pick up young women walking.”

“For I’m a doctor to my trade,
My friends they call me Raree,
If you’ll tell me where your troubles lie,
I’ll clean you neat and fair-o.”

“My trouble lies between my thighs,
And there it is abiding,
It tickles me both night and day,
And it keeps me from striding.”

He laid her down upon a bank,
And he provided the plaster.
She jump-ed up to her feet,
Saying, “I hope you’ll never end it.”

She gave to me my winters’ beef,
Besides my winter’s firing,
Far better than that, she gave to me
A stable for my stallion.

Ewan MacColl sings She Was a Rum One

As I walked out one fair moon night,
One fair moon night in winter,
It was there I spied a pretty fair maid,
And she could not step no wider.

Chorus (after each verse):
She was a rum one, fol tee toodle i od aye,
But a bonny one, fol tee toodle i doe.

She walked up and she walked down
And I walked close beside her,
And I asked to her the reason why
That she could not step no wider.

“Go away, go away, you foolish young man
And stop such foolish talking,
It little becomes young men,” she said,

“Of pick up young women’s walking.”

“O I’m a doctor to my trade,
My friends they call me rare, o,
If you’ll tell me where your trouble lies,
I’ll fix it neat and fair, o.”

“My trouble lies between my thighs
And there it is abiding,
It tickles me both nicht and day
And it keeps me frae my striding.”

He laid her doon upon a bank
And he provided the plaister,
She rose up unto her feet,
Says, “I hope you’ll never end it.”

She gied to me my winter’s beef
Likewise my winter’s firin’,
Far better than that she gied to me
Was a stable for my stallion.

Ian Bruce sings She Was a Rum One

As I gaed oot on a fair muin nicht,
On a fair muin nicht in winter
It was there I spied a pretty fair maid
And she couldna step nae wider.

Chorus (after each verse):
She was a rum one, falla-diddle l-do-ay
But a bonnie one falla-diddle i-doh

It’s she’s walked up and she’s walked doon
An’ I’ve walked close beside her,
I askit tae her the reason why
That she couldna step nae wider.

“Go ’way, go ’way ye foolish young man
And stop yer idle talking,
Gor it ill becomes young men,” she said,
“Tae pick up young weemen walkin’.”

“But I’m a doctor tae my trade
An’ ma freens they cry me rare-o,
Gin tell me faur yer trouble lies,
I’ll fix it neat an’ fair-o.”

“Oh ma trouble lies atween ma thighs
An’ it’s there it is abidin’,
An it kittles me baith nicht an’ day;
An’ it keeps me fae ma stridin.”

Oh I laid her doon upon the bank
An’ I provided her the plaister,
She’s louped up tae her feet again,
Sayin’ “I think ye’ve cured me maister.”

She’s gi’en tae me ma winter’s coat,
Likewise ma winter’s firin’,
Far better than that, she’s gi’en tae me
A stable for ma stallion.