1: Rundle My Son
Versions from the Singing Tradition
1: Rundle My Son
As sung by John Stewart, Peat Inn, Fife
2: Lord Donald
As sung by Archie Webster, Strathkiness, Fife
3: Rundle My Son
As sung by Mary Reid, Peat Inn, Fife
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As sung by John Stewart (age 46 at the time) at Well Cottage, Peat Inn on 2 April 1967. Learned from his father and mother (67.2.12). John Stewart and his wife Mary Reid were travellers of the old style - they had few possessions - a pram and sometimes a bicycle with a waterproof sheet to make a 'bow tent'. They called at the door for hot water to make a can of tea. I invited them in and we spent the afternoon singing songs and ballads in the kitchen. Mary Reid also had a version of the ballad but in a rather fragmentary form and with three line stanzas (see Version 3).
'Oh where have you been oh Rundle my son,
Where have you been my jolly young man?'
'I've been away huntin mother make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied, wearied wandrin an' fain would lie doun.'
'Have you had any supper, oh Rundle my son,
Have you had any supper, my jolly young man?'
'Oh yes mother I haed supper do make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied, wearied wandrin an' fain would lie doun.'
'What had you for supper, oh Rundle my son,
What had you for supper, my jolly young man?'
'A plate o fresh fishes mother make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied, wearied wandrin an' fain would lie doun.'
'What colour was yer fishes, oh Rundle my son,
What colour was yer fishes, my jolly young man?'
'Black backs and white bellies mother make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied, wearied wandrin an' fain would lie doun.'
'Oh I doubt ye've been poisoned, oh Rundle my son,
Oh I doubt ye've been poisoned, my jolly young man.'
'Oh yes mother I've been poisoned do make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied, wearied wandrin an' fain would lie doun.'
'What will you leave to your father, oh Rundle my son,
What will you leave to your father, my jolly young man?'
'My horse an' my saddle for him to ride on,
For I'm wearied, wearied wandrin an' fain would lie doun.'
'What will you leave to your mother, oh Rundle my son,
What will you leave to your mother, my jolly young man?'
'My purse an' my sovereigns mother make my bed soon,
For I'm wearied, wearied wandrin an' fain would lie doun.'
'What'll you leave to your sweetheart, oh Rundle my son,
What'll you leave to your sweetheart, my jolly young man?'
'A rope and a halter to hang herself on,
For she is the cause of the poisonin of me.'
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