Then—]
Please, will black do, black do, black do?
Black’s for the funeral, black will do.
—Northamptonshire (Rev. W. D. Sweeting).
I’ve come to see how Jenny Jones is to-day.
You can’t see her, she’s washing.
I’ve come to see how Jenny Jones is to-day.
You can’t see her, she’s ironing [she’s starching, she’s brewing, she’s baking, successively].
I’ve come to see how Jenny Jones is to-day.
You can’t see her, she’s ill [then she’s worse].
I’ve come to see how Jenny Jones is to-day.
You can’t see her, she’s dead!
Chorus.
There’s red for the soldiers,
Blue for the sailors,
White for the angels [for the baby, Chirbury],
And black for the mourners [of poor Jenny Jones].
—Berrington, Chirbury (Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 577).
We’ve come to see poor Jenny Jones.
Poor Jenny Jones is washing, you can’t see her.
We’ve come to see poor Jenny Jones.
Poor Jenny Jones is drying, you can’t see her.
We’ve come to see poor Jenny Jones.
Poor Jenny Jones is starching, you can’t see her.
We’ve come to see poor Jenny Jones.
Poor Jenny Jones is ironing, you can’t see her.
We’ve come to see poor Jenny Jones.
Poor Jenny Jones is dead, you can’t see her.
What shall we follow, in red, blue, or black?
Red’s for the soldier, blue for the sailor,
Black for the dead.