> Waterson:Carthy > Songs > The Holland Handkerchief

The Suffolk Miracle / The Holland Handkerchief / The Lover’s Ghost

[ Roud 246 ; Master title: The Suffolk Miracle ; Child 272 ; Henry H217 ; Ballad Index C272 ; The Suffolk Miracle at Fire Draw Near ; HollandHand at Old Songs ; VWML AW/2/63 , CJS2/9/2323 ; Bodleian Roud 246 ; GlosTrad Roud 246 ; Wiltshire 164 ; trad.]

Michael Downey: The Ploughboy’s Glory Gale Huntington: Sam Henry’s Songs of the People John Jacob Niles: The Ballad Book of John Jacob Niles Roy Palmer: Everyman’s Book of British Ballads

John Goodluck sang The Suffolk Miracle as the title track of his 1975 Traditional Sound album, The Suffolk Miracle. His lyrics are very close to the one text printed in Child and on the broadside included as an inlay of the album, pictured right. Brian Horsfall noted:

Another melodramatic tale, this time from a broadsheet first published in 1711. It tells the story of a young man who, having died of a broken heart at being separated from his true love, returns to ride through the night with her on her father’s horse—and provides concrete proof of the unlikely phenomenon. As far as we know, no one has yet had the temerity to record the full twenty-eight verse epic—and John foiled our attempt by slashing it to twenty-six!

Packie Manus Byrne sang The Holland Handkerchief on his 1975 Topic album Songs of a Donegal Man. This track was also included on the 1998 Topic anthology O’er His Grave the Grass Grew Green (The Voice of the People Series Volume 3). Mike Yates noted on the original album:

Professor Child called this ballad The Suffolk Miracle and reluctantly admitted it to his collection with this comment, “l have printed this ballad because, in a blurred, enfeebled, and disfigured shape, it is representative in England of one of the most remarkable tales and one of the most impressive and beautiful ballads of the European continent.” The story seems to have originated in Southeast Europe—perhaps Greece—and to have drifted all over Europe, both as tale and ballad. A romantic 18^th century re-working of it, in G.A. Burger’s Lenore, gave extra impetus to its spread. The ballad, which has been collected in its entirety as a folk-tale in the west of England, was printed by several 17^th century broadside printers in London and today, usually under the title The Holland Handkerchief, is met with not infrequently in Ireland, particularly in those parts that were on the itinerary of a couple of influential wandering minstrels and casual labourers of the mid-nineteenth century, Andy and Tommy Hearn (according to the American folklorist Phillips). Packie’s brooding tune fits the ballad well—far better than the tune of McCafferty which many singers use—and he had it as a boy from his cousins, the Gallagher brothers, who lived in Meenacahan, County Donegal.

Nora Cleary sang The Holland Handkerchief at home in The Hand, Doonogan, Co Clare, on 10 July 1975 to Tom Munnelly. She learned the song from her father. This recording was included in 1985 on the Folk Music Society of Ireland anthology Early Ballads in Ireland 1968-1985, which was reissued in 2015 on CD by An Goílín.

Tom Lenihan sang The Holland Handkerchief on his 1978 Topic album of songs traditional in West Clare, Paddy’s Panacea. Tom Munnelly noted:

Professor Bronson in the light of his researches on this ballad concludes that it has never been recovered in Ireland (The Traditional Tunes of the Child Ballads Vol. 1, 272) and in the light of published materials who is to blame him? The actual situation is a very different matter, for without any doubt this is one of the most popular of the classic ballads in Anglo/Irish tradition and I  have recorded it from dozens of informants. It is particularly popular among travellers. As in The Holland Handkerchief, traces of the broadsheet poet are still evident. Even so, this form is still infinitely superior to the windy Suffolk Miracle printed by Child. Another version may be heard sung, by Packie Byrne on Topic, Songs of a Donegal Man.

Peggy Seeger sang The Suffolk Miracle in 1979 on her and Ewan MacColl’s album Blood & Roses Volume 1. They noted:

The Spectre Bridegroom—a story with which Slavs, Europeans, Scandinavians, Britons and Americans have been terrifying themselves for centuries. In its full traditional form, the tale is far more dramatic than in our ballad. The plot opens with two lovers who swear fealty to one another in life and death. When the man dies, the girl is inconsolable. His spirit comes for her and they ride through the night. He asks, “Do you not fear to ride with death?” She replies, “Why should I? I am with you.” But when they near the graveyard, he rends her clothing and attempts to drag her physically into the grave with him. She is rescued in the nick of time, but the next morning every grave has upon it a piece of her smock or gown.

It was because this story was so widespread and detailed that Child included—albeit apologetically—one poor text in his definitive ballad collection. He believed that the ballad was not extant in Ireland or Scotland, a fact since disproved by the memories of American informants. Indeed, the ballad is rarely sung now in Britain, but it flourishes in America and Canada: and for once, the New World is not excising the supernatural motifs. Phillips Barry, the excellent American ballad scholar, traces the ’superior’ North American variants back to the Scott-Irish forms and the more informal—perhaps slovenly but very singable—southern versions to the Child broadside. Our text is from Virginia.

In Child’s set, the girl dies of horror and remorse. Rarely does she do so in the American texts, where we are usually warned in a moralising verse of the meddlesome habits of old (rich) parents. Occasionally, the final verse is given over to a lament, in which the girl vows to henceforth forswear all mankind.

Ken Hall sang The Holland Handkerchief, “a ghost story with a moral for over zealous parents”, in 2000 on his and Peta Webb’s Fellside CD As Close As Can Be.

Norma Waterson sang The Holland Handkerchief in 2002 on Waterson:Carthy’s fourth album, A Dark Light. Martin Carthy noted:

Packie Manus Byrne appeared on the English music scene in the early 1960s and quickly made his mark. He is a canny man. Because he never paraded his knowledge many people took him far too lightly far too easily, but a treasure house is what he was. And, indeed, is. The musical sweep of his knowledge is colossal, and he is also generous. It is from him that Norma learned The Holland Handkerchief, one of the truly spooky songs and one not found that often these days.

Jim Moray sang The Suffolk Miracle in 2003 on his CD Sweet England.

Kerfuffle learned Holland Handkerchief from the singing of Norma Waterson and recorded it in 2004 for their second album, K2.

Benji Kirkpatrick sang The Holland Handkerchief in 2004 on his Fellside album Half a Fruit Pie. He noted:

I learnt this from one of Roy Palmer’s books and have been performing it for some years. It was, at the time of learning, a song I’d not heard before but now it seems to have become rather more popular. The original source was the redoubtable Packie Byrne and is a version of the Child Ballad, The Suffolk Miracle (272).

Rosie Hood sang this ballad as Lover’s Ghost on her eponymous 2011 EP, Rosie Hood, and on her 2017 RootBeat CD The Beautiful & the Actual. She noted:

A variation of Holland Handkerchief, collected from Richard May, Fairford, by Alfred Williams [and to be found in the Alfred Williams manuscripts stored at the Wiltshire and Swindon History Centre]. “This curious piece I discovered at Fairford. I have nowhere else heard it. It is of great age, and I have no doubt that by reason of the nature of the narrative, it was welcomed by the rustics.”

The melody is based on Packie Manus Byrne’s Holland Handkerchief from The Voice of the People 3.

This video shows Rosie Hood at the end of 2018, accompanied by her then trio partners Nicola Beazley on fiddle and Lucy Huzzard on melodeon:

Chris Foster sang The Holland Handkerchief on his 2017 CD Hadelin. He noted:

I found this song after my friend Rósa Þorsteinsdóttir told me that the well-known Icelandic song Djákninn frá Myrká is a version of the story found in the English ballad The Suffolk Miracle. Packie Byrne (1917-2015) sings this version on Vol. 3 of the Topic Records The Voice of the People series. As I was learning the song, I imagined it accompanied by a consort of viols. Bára Grímsdóttir wrote this beautiful arrangement and imaginations became reality.

Anna Tam sang Holland Handkerchief on her 2022 album Hatching Hares. She noted:

Printed on broadsides from the 1670s titled The Suffolk Miracle, being The Relation of a young Man, who after his Death appeared to his sweetheart and carried her behind him Forty Miles in two Hour’s Time, and was never seen after, but in the Grave. Tune of My Bleeding Heart. I love how the folk tradition has given the girl more agency—in the early printed ballads the grave is opened by men (and she soon dies when she hears the news), whereas in the folk tradition it is the girl who raises her lover’s corpse, and we are left dramatically with the revelation.

I’m very excited to collaborate on this track with the sound artist srah who worked with recordings of my voice and gamba alongside other found sounds she’s recorded and manipulated.

Phil Tyler and Sarah Hill sang The Suffolk Miracle on their 2022 album What We Thought Was a Lake Was a Field of Flax.

Lilian sang Holland Handkerchief in 2023 on her Talking Cat album Pareidolia.

Angeline Morrison sang The Suffolk Miracle, as collected from Mary Sands of Allanstand, Northern Carolina, on 31 July 1916 by Cecil Sharp [VWML CJS2/9/2323] , in 2023 on Martin Simpson’s and Thomm Jutz’s Topic album of songs collected from Mary Sands and Jane Gentry, Nothing But Green Willow.

Alasdair Roberts sang The Holland Handkerchief on his 2023 album Grief in the Kitchen and Mirth in the Hall. He noted:

There are a few variants of this supernatural ballad, sometimes known as The Suffolk Miracle. Of those which have influenced my own interpretation, I ought to mention in particular recordings by three Irish singers—the great Cathal McConnell and the late great Frank Harte and Packie Manus Byrne.

Lyrics

John Goodluck sings The Suffolk Miracle

A wonder stranger ne’er was known
Then what I now shall treat upon.
In Suffolk there did lately dwell
A farmer rich and known full well.

He had a daughter fair and bright,
On whom he placed his chief delight;
Her beauty was beyond compare,
She was both virtuous and fair.

A young man there was living by,
Who was so charmèd with her eye
That he could never be at rest,
He was with love so much possessed.

He made address to her, and she
Did grant him love immediately;
Which when her father came to hear,
He parted her and her poor dear.

Forty miles distant was she sent,
Unto her uncle’s, with intent
That she should there so long remain
Till she had changed her mind again.

Hereat this young man sadly grieved,
But knew not how to be relieved;
He sighed and sobbed continually
That his true love he could not see.

She by no means could to him send
Who was her heart’s espoused friend;
He sighed, she grieved, but all in vain,
For she confined must still remain.

He mourned so much that doctor’s art
Could give no ease unto his heart;
Who was so strangely terrified,
That in short time for love he died.

She that from him was sent away
Knew nothing of his dying day,
But constant did she still remain;
To love the dead was then in vain.

After he had in grave been laid
A month or more, unto this maid
He came to her in dead of night,
Who joyed to see her heart’s delight.

Her father’s horse, which well she knew,
Her mother’s hood and safeguard too,
He brought with him to testify
Her parents’ orders he came by.

Which when her uncle understood,
He hoped it might be for her good,
And gave consent to her straightway
That with him she should come away.

When she was got her love behind,
They passed as swift as any wind,
That in two hours, or little more,
He brought her to her father’s door.

But as they did this great haste make,
He did complain his head did ache;
Her handkerchief she then took out,
And tied the same his head about.

And unto him she thus did say:
“Thou art as cold as any clay;
Which when we come home, a fire we’ll have.”
But little dreamt he went to grave.

Soon were they at her father’s door,
And after she ne’er see him more;
“I’ll set the horse up,” then he said,
And there he left this harmless maid.

She knocked, and straight amain he cried,
“Who’s there?” “’Tis I,” the maid replied;
Who wondered much her voice to hear,
And was possessed with dread and fear.

Her father she did tell, and then
He stared like a frightened man:
Down stairs he ran, and when he see her,
Cried out, “My child, how came thee here?”

“Pray, sir, did you not send for me,
By such a messenger?” said she:
Which made his hair stand on his head,
As knowing well that he was dead.

“Where is he?” then to her he said;
“He’s in the stable,” quoth the maid.
“Go in,” said he, “and go to bed;
I’ll see the horse well litterèd.”

He stared about, and there could he
No shape of any mankind see,
But found his horse all in a sweat;
Which put him in a deadly fright.

His daughter he said nothing to,
Nor no one else, though well they knew
That he was dead a month before,
For fear of grieving her full sore.

A handkerchief she said she tied
About his head, and that they tried;
The sexton they did speak unto,
That he the grave would then undo.

Affrighted then they did behold
His body turning into mould,
And though he had a month been dead,
This handkerchief was about his head.

This thing unto her then they told,
And the whole truth they did unfold;
She was thereat so terrified
And grieved, she quickly after died.

Part not true love, you rich men, then;
But, if they be right honest men
Your daughters’ love, give them their way,
For force oft breeds their lives’ decay.

Packie Manus Byrne sings The Holland Handkerchief

A wealthy squire lived in our town.
He was a man of high renown.
He had one daughter, a beauty bright,
And the name he called her was his heart’s delight.

Many young men to court her came,
But none of them could her favour gain,
Till there came one of a low degree
And above them all she had fancied he.

But when her father he became to know
That his lovely daughter loved this young man so,
Over fifty miles he sent her away
All to deprive her of her wedding day.

One night as she lay in her bedroom,
Her love appeared from out the gloom.
He touched her hand and to her did say,
“Arise, my darling, and come away.”

’Twas with this young man she got on behind,
And they rode swifter than any wind.
They rode on for an hour or more
Till he cries, “My darling, my head feels sore.”

A holland handkerchief she then drew out,
And with it wrapped his aching head about.
She kissed his lips and these words did say,
“My love, you’re colder than any clay.”

When they arrived at her father’s gate,
He said, “Get down, love, the hour is late.
Get down, get down, love, and go to bed,
And I’ll see this gallant horse is groomed and fed.”

And when she rapped at her father’s hall,
“Who’s that? Who’s that?” her own father called.
“Tis I, dear Father; didn’t you send for me
By such a messenger?” naming he.

“Oh, no, dear Daughter, that can never be.
Your words are false and you lie to me.
For on yon far mountain your young man died
And in yon green meadow his body lies.”

The truth then dawned on this maiden brave,
And with her friends they exposed the grave,
Where lay her young man though nine months dead
With a holland handkerchief around his head.

Woe to all parents, as I say still,
Who rob young lovers of their own will,
For once promises and vows they give,
They can never recall them back whilst they live.

Nora Cleary sings The Holland Handkerchief

There was a lord that lived in this town
And a lord of high renown;
He had a daughter and a beauty bright
And the name he called her was his heart’s desire.

Many’s the lord who came courting her
But none of them could her favour gain
Till there came a man of low degree
And above them all, sure she fancied he.

And when her father came this to know
For fifty miles he sent her away,
For fifty miles he sent her away
For to deprive them of their wedding day.

One night as Mary was going to bed
And just slipping off her gown
She heard a voice of a deadly sound
Saying, “Loose the bonds, love, that we have bound.”

Her father’s steed she did well know
Her mother’s mantle she knew also;
She dressed herself in rich attire
And away she went with her heart’s desire.

’Twas with her love she rode behind,
They went far swifter than any wind
For about an hour and a little more,
He cried, “My darling, my head is sore.”

A holland handkerchief she then pulled out
And around his head she twisted about;
She kissed his lips and these words did say:
“My love, you’re colder than any clay.”

And when she came to her father’s gate,
“Enlight, enlight”, that young man said,
“Enlight, my jewel and go to bed
And I’ll see your horse in the stable fed.”

And when she came to her father’s hall
“Who is that? Who is that?” her father called.
“Tis I, dear father, did you not send for me
By such a messenger?”—naming he.

He vowed and swore that young man was dead,
He tore the grey hairs down off his head;
He wrung his hands and he cried full sore
And this young man’s darling cried ten times more.

’Twas early early at the dawn of day
They went to the grave where that young man lay;
Although he was nine long months dead
A holland handkerchief was around his head.

“It’s a warning now”, her father said,
“To all young men and to all fair maids
From once their hearts and their vows they give
That they ne’er shall part them so while they live.”

Peggy Seeger sings The Suffolk Miracle

It’s of an old and wealthy man,
He had a daughter and her name was Ann.
She were handsome, fine and tall,
She had a loving face withal.

Sing lady, lady, lady fair,
Many a suitor had she there;
A widow’s son of low degree,
Among them all, she fancied he.

Sing courting, courting, courting cane,
There’s many a courtship all in vain.
For when her father came to know
He sent her far, O, far from home.

One night as she were lying down,
The quiet loosening of her gown;
She heard a low and deathly sound,
Says, “Loose my bonds, I’m earthly bound.”

She looked out of her window clear,
She seen her love on her father’s mare;
“Here’s your mother’s cloak, here’s your father’s roan
They sent me here, love, to bring you home.”

He’s mounted up, she’s on behind,
And they rode on with contented mind;
But all along complaint he make,
“O love, O love, my head do ache.”

Her handkerchief from her neck around.
She bound it round his head, around;
He set her down at her father’s door,
Then her true love she saw no more.

“Awake, awake, awake!” said she,
“Is no-one here for to welcome me?”
“You’re welcome home, dear child,” said he,
“But what trusty friend did come for thee?”

Did you not send one I do adore,
That love so dear, and must love no more?
Her father frowned and shook his head.
Says, “Your true love been one year dead.”

He’s summonsed clerk and clergy too,
That grave was opened and him to view;
And though he had been a twelvemonth dead.
Her handkerchief was bound round his head.

So a warning to you old folks still:
Don’t hinder young ones from their will.
The first they love they’ll never forget,
Though he be dead, she’ll love him yet.

Norma Waterson sings The Holland Handkerchief

A wealthy squire he lived in our town
And he was a man of high renown.
He had one daughter, a beauty bright,
And the name he called her was his heart’s delight.

Many young man far to court her came
But none of them could her favour gains,
Till there came one of the low degree
And above them all why she’d fancy he.

But when her father he came to know
That his lovely daughter loved this young man so,
Over fifty miles he sent her away
All to deprive her of her wedding day.

One night as she lay in her bedroom,
Her lover appeared from out the gloom.
He touched her hand and to her did say,
“Arise my darling and come away.”

’Twas with this young man she got on behind
And they rode swifter than any wind.
They rode on for an hour or more
Till he cries, “My darling, my head feels sore!”

A holland handkerchief she’s then drew out
And with it wrapped his aching head about.
She’s kissed his lips and these words did say,
“My love, you’re colder than any clay!”

When they arrived at her father’s gate
He said, “Get down, love, for the hour is late!
Get down, get down, love, and go to bed
And I’ll see this gallant horse is groomed and fed.”

And when she’s arrived at her father’s hall,
“Who’s that, who’s that?” her own father called.
“It is I dear father, didn’t you send for me
By such a messenger?” And she’s named he.

“Oh no dear daughter, that can never be,
Your words are false love, and you lie to me!
For on yon far mountain your young man died
And in yon green meadow well his body lies.”

The truth then dawned upon this lady brave
And with her friends they exposed his grave;
There lay her love though nine months dead
With the holland handkerchief tied round his head.

Rosie Hood sings Lover’s Ghost

It’s of a farmer in our town,
His election goes the country round;
He had one daughter, a beauty bright,
And in every place was her heart’s delight.

Many a young man a-courting came,
But none of them could her favour gain,
Till a young man came, of low degree,
Came underhanded and she fancied he.

Soon as her father came this to hear,
He separated her from her dear,
For four score miles this maid was sent,
To her uncle’s home for his discontent.

Nine days after this young man died,
His ghost appeared at her bedside –
“Rise, rise, my love and come with me,
And break these chains and set me free.”

This maid arose and goes up behind,
And she rode as fast as the very wind,
But not one word did this young man speak,
But, “My dearest dear, how my head does ache!”

She had a handkerchief of the holland kind,
And around his head she did him bind;
She kissed his pale lips, and thus did say:
“My dearest dear, you’re as cold as clay.”

He rode her up to her father’s door,
And saw her father standing on the floor:
“O father dear, did you send for me
By such a kind messenger, kind sir?” said she.

He wrung his hands and tore his hair,
Much like a man in deep despair;
He tore the hair all from his head,
Crying, “Daughter dear, your young man is dead.”

Early next morning this maid arose,
And straightaway to the churchyard goes,
She rose the corpse that was nine day’s dead,
And found her handkerchief bound around his head.

Chris Foster sings The Holland Handkerchief

A wealthy squire lived in our town.
He was a man of a high renown.
He had one daughter, a beauty bright,
And the name he called her was his heart’s delight

Many young men to court her came.
But none of them could her favour gain.
Until one came of a low degree
and above all others she fancied he.

But when her father he came to know
that his lovely daughter loved this young man so.
Over fifty miles he sent her away,
all to deprive her of her wedding day

One night as she lay in her bedroom,
her young love came to her from out the gloom.
He touched her hand and to her he did say,
“Arise, my darling, and come away.”

So it’s with this young man she got on behind,
and they rode swifter than any wind.
They rode on for an hour or more,
until he says, “O my darling, my head feels sore.”

So a holland handkerchief she then drew out
and with it wrapped his head about.
She kissed his lips and to him she did say,
“My dear, you are colder than any clay.”

Now when they came to her father’s gate,
he said, “Get down love, the hour is late.
Get down, get down, love and go to bed,
and I will see that this gallant horse is groomed and fed.”

And when she rapped at her father’s hall,
“Who’s there? who’s there?” her own father did call.
“It is I dear Father; didn’t you send for me?
by such a messenger.” Naming he.

“O no, dear Daughter, that can never be.
Your words are false and you lie to me.
For on yonder mountain your young man died
and in yon’ green valley now his body lies.”

Then the truth it dawned on this maiden brave,
and with her friends she exposed the grave,
where lay her young man, though nine months dead,
with a holland handkerchief tied around his head.

So it is woe to all parents, as I say still,
who rob young lovers of their own will.
For once their promises and vows they give,
they can never recall them back whilst they live.