(Charming) Mary Neal

[ Roud 142 ; Laws M17 ; Henry H55 ; Ballad Index LM17 ; MusTrad MT234 ; trad.]

Colm O Lochlainn, Irish Street Ballads Gale Huntington: Sam Henry’s Songs of the People

M.A. Harron’s article The Ballad of Mary Neill refers to a broadside ballad published by the Glasgow stationer James Lindsay in between 1860 and 1880 and included by Colm Ó Lochlainn’s in his 1939 book Irish Street Ballads.

Peter Donnelly sang John McCann (Charming Mary Neill) to Peter Kennedy and Sean O’Boyle at Castlecaulfield, Co. Tyrone, on 23 July 1952. This recording was included in 2012 on the Topic anthology of ballads sung by British and Irish traditional singers, Good People, Take Warning (The Voice of the People Volume 23).

Collected half a dozen times in Ireland, but only occasionally in England and North America, this song also appeared on a few broadsides, dating from after the mid-19^th century. It is often called Charming Mary Neal (or Neill), and Peter Donnelly’s good full narrative is close to the texts of these printed versions.

Martin Carthy sang Mary Neal unaccompanied on his 1974 album Sweet Wivelsfield. His version is much shorter than Peter Donnelly’s and has a tragic ending with Mary Neal drowning and not being rescued. He noted:

From [Marina Russell of Upwey, Dorset] also, comes Mary Neal of which she had three verses, so I took the liberty of filling it out from other printed sources.

Lyrics

Peter Donnelly sings John McCann

I am a bold undaunted youth. My name is John McCann.
I’m a native of sweet Donegal; I was reared near to Strabane.
For the stealing of one heiress I lie in Lifford gaol,
And her father swears he’ll have me hanged for his daughter Maire O’Neill.

O in strong irons I lay bound. My love sent word to me,
“Don’t fear my father’s anger, for I will set you free.
My father he has give consent to let you out on bail
All for to stand your trial for his daughter Maire O’Neill.”

Her father kept her close confined for fear I would her see.
Who on my trial morning my prosecutor was to be,
But like a loyal lover to appear she did not fail.
She freed me from all danger. She’s my charming Maire O’Neill.

All full of wrath and anger her father loud did roar
When my trial it was over, I crossed the garden wall,
For, when her voice it reached my ears, it echoed hill and dale.
“Aye, you’re welcome there, my Johnny dear,” says my charming Maire O’Neill.

It was under there a shady bower, where we discoursed a while.
He says,“My dear, you need not fear. I’ll free you from exile.
It’s a *** she is ready from Derry to set sail,
So off to Quebec come with me. You’re my charming Maire O’Neill.”

She gave consent, so back she went and stole the best of clothes.
Unto no person in the house her mind she did exclose.
Five hundred pounds red ready gold from her father she did steal,
So that was twice I did elope with my charming Maire O’Neill.

Our coach it was got ready for Derry town to go,
O and there we bribed the coachman to let nobody know.
He told us the secret he never would reveal,
So off to Derry then I went with my charming Maire O’Neill.

It was then to Captain Wilson our passage money paid.
All in the town of Derry we under cover lay,
Where we joined our hands in wedlock bands before the ship set sail.
Her father’s wrath I valued not along with Maire O’Neill.

It was over the glittering water our gallant ship did glide.
Six long months unto Quebec, six weeks on the watery tide,
Until we came to Whitehead Ray, We had no cause to wail,
But on Gosford Bay I thought that day I’d lost my Mary O’Neill.

On the ninth day of June in the afternoon, a heavy fog came on.
Our captain cried, “Look out, brave boys. I fear we are all gone.”
Our vessel on a sandy bank was driven by the gale,
And forty was washed overboard along with Mary O’Neill.

It was then with the boats and the help of the crew five hundred lives we saved,
But forty of them now alas has got a watery grave.
Her yellow locks I then espied came floating with the gale,
But I plunged into the raging deep and I saved my Mary O’Neill.

Her father wrote a letter, as you all may understand.
He said if I would come home again he would give me half his land,
But I wrote him back an answer and sealed it without fear.
Five pounds a week I now receive along with Mary O’Neill.

Martin Carthy sings Mary Neal

I am a young and undaunted youth my name is John McCann,
I am a native of Edinburgh and willing to trepan.
For the stealing of an heiress I was laid and left in gaol
And her father says he would hang me for stealing Mary Neal.

All in cold irons I lay bound and my love sent word to me:
“Don’t you fear my father’s anger for I will set you free
There’s a good ship that lies awaiting from Derry for to go
And I will bribe the captain that he’ll let no-one know.”

I gave consent and back she went and she stole away her clothes
And to not a one that was in the house her mind she did make known.
We have joined our hands in wedlock bands before that we set sail;
For her father’s wrath I valued not for I loved my Mary Neal.

It was on the proud and the swelling sea our ship did gently glide,
All on our passage to Quebec six weeks a matchless tide.
Until we come to Whitehead Bay we had no cause to wail
But on Whitehead Bay all on that day I lost my Mary Neal.

On the ninth of June in the afternoon a heavy fog come on.
Our captain cries, “Look out, my boys, or else we are all gone.”
Our vessel on the sandy bank was driven by a gale
And forty were washed overboard all along with Mary Neal.

Now many were the lines we threw all in the foaming spray,
And many were the times I dived but I could not find Mary
Till her yellow locks come a-floating all along the wave so high
And it’s now I must stand me trial for a-stealing Mary Neal.

Acknowledgements

Transcribed by Garry Gillard. Thanks to Wolfgang Hell.