This week a tale in dialect from Antigua entitled Under the Green Oak Tree.
It was collected by John H. Johnson in "Folk-Lore from Antigua,
British West Indies," in The Journal of American Folk-Lore,
vol. 34 (1921), Johnson's source was George W. Edwards, 50 years old, a
native of Greenbay, Antigua.
This one bears some resemblance to the Hungarian version of Child ballad 10 entitled The Little Maple Tree that I discussed here in that the body of the girl was hidden in a tree and a bone was made into a musical instrument. The motif of the body parts being made into an instrument (in Child Ballad 10 most often a harp or fiddle, but in ATU 780 it is often a flute) is a common one in both song and story.
This version comes from here.
Under the Green Old Oak-Tree
Antigua
Dis a nice little story. Der woman had two chil'ren.
One was a boy, an' der oder was a girl. De fader a dese chil'ren die. Moder
decide to marry again. She marry to anoder man. Each day dese chil'ren did go
to de mountain to get flowers. Dey went on dis day. Girl had a better bucket
den what de broder got. Dey comin' wid de flowers.
On his way home, de boy stop wid de gal. He t'inkin'
some evil plan. Want dis bucket which was his sister. She would not consent to
gi' him dis bucket. He t'ink it best to kill der sister. He kill de sister. He
kill dis girl near to a big oak-tree. An' he hide her dere.
After he kill her, he go home. Can't give no account a
he sister. Dey all went to search for de girl, but none can find her.
Der broder stay home. Month gone. Shepherd-boy dat is
comin' down de mountain meet a big bone like a flute. He pick dis bone under
dat same tree. He took up de bone an' play. Comin' home wid de flock, he play
on de bone. It play a sweet tune:
My broder has killed me in de woods, an' den he buryth
me.
My broder has killed me in de woods, an' den he buryth me
Under de green ol' oak-tree, an' den he buryth me.
My broder has killed me in de woods, an' den he buryth me
Under de green ol' oak-tree, an' den he buryth me.
Dat's all it could play. It play sweet, you know.
Comin' home, all dat hear dis tune beg de boy for a play on it. He give dem a
play. Now he way down de mountain. Mos' to where de moder is livin'. He meet de
moder. She ask him for a play. He give her a play. As quick as she play, t'ing
say:
My dear moder, my dear moder, it my dead bone you
play.
My dear moder, my dear moder, it my dead bone you play.
My dear moder, my dear moder, it my dead bone you play.
She drop an' faint, but never die. All de people was
lookin' for de girl. Dis broder meet de boy. He ask him for a play. Take de
bone an' start. T'ing say:
My broder, it is you dat has killed me.
My broder, it is you dat has killed me.
My broder, it is you dat has killed me.
An' dere he faints an' dies. Dat is de end a da green
ol' oak-tree.
Stay tuned next week for a version of The Singing Bones from Italy.
If you had told this story at a pre-teen sleepover, I wouldn't have been able to sleep!
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