> Folk Music > Songs > Wanton Lasses Pity Her / Dirry Doodhem

Wanton Lasses Pity Her / Dirry Doodhem

[ Roud 37666 ; trad.]

A New Song, to the tune of Duncan Grey, as given by James Barthram, Scarborough and Kirkbymoorside, is printed in the appendix of Mary and Nigel Hudleston’s collection Songs of the Ridings.

Bryony Griffith and Alice Jones sang Wanton Lasses Pity Her in 2022 on their album of Yorkshire songs, A Year Too Late and a Month Too Soon. They noted:

This song appears in the appendix of Mary and Nigel Hudleston’s Songs of the Ridings. but no-one seems to know much about it. In 1961, Nigel and Mary wrote a letter to The Scarborough Mercury asking for any local songs. A Mr Newham of Newham’s Dairy, Dean Road, Scarborough, responded and provided them with a “very old book of local songs” belonging to his great-grandfather, James Barthram of Kirkbymoorside. We got in touch with the Newham family, and it seems likely that the Mr Newham in question was their grandfather Mark, who was born in 1900. Parish records from 1840 mention a farmer named James Barthram but some of the curious language and phrases in the song suggest it is much older than that, despite being entitled A New Song. It was to be sung to the tune Duncan Grey, but that tune seemed far too jolly considering the fate of the poor wife at the hand of her arrogant, mean husband, so Alice reworked it and gave it a more appropriate title.

Lyrics

Bryony Griffith and Alice Jones sing Wanton Lasses Pity Her

Dirry Doodhem’s got a wife,
Wanton lasses pity her;
Silly girl she sold for life,
Wanton lasses pity her,
She has got a stubborn fool,
A peevish cur to surl and growl,
A donkey that she can’t control,
Wanton lasses pity her.

Do not jeer it is no fun,
Wanton lasses pity her,
Here a simple girl is done,
Wanton lasses pity her,
Dirry had an eye to tin,
So he strove the girl to win,
And now, now her woes begin.
Wanton lasses pity her.

Now her bargain she may rue,
Wanton lasses think of it,
Pity unto her is due,
Wanton lasses think of it,
Tether’d to a haughty fop,
Proud and brainless as a mop,
Should she cross him, her he’ll wop,
Wanton lasses think of it.

Silly girl her path is rough,
Wanton lasses think of it,
Forced to bear his scornful huff,
Wanton lasses think of it,
Rather than such wife be made,
Bear his snubs, do as he bade,
Single live, and die a maid,
Wanton lasses think of it.

I would sooner death prefer,
Wanton lasses think of it,
Than such a marriage bed to share,
Wanton lasses think of it,
All such vampires spurn and shun.
Die old maids, to midges turn,
Or lead apes when life is done,
Wanton lasses think of it.