Here you will find a collection of folktales from the Southern US, Scotland, Ireland, Northern Ireland, Wales and England. It is interesting to find folk stories that crossed over to the ‘New World’ making their way to the US, Canada, Australia and New Zealand. If you have any that you would like to share, please send them to the email on the contact page and we will post them as soon as we can.
This Month’s story is the Tale of Two Sisters or the Tale of Twa Sisters, a famous folk tale that is often heard in song or poem version. It is thought to have originated in the Northeast of England or the Borders of Scotland. There are many versions, and it made it’s way to the US were it eventually became known as ‘Kate’s Story’. The following is a typical set of words incorporating the fullest known story line. This version comes from Sir Walter Scott’s Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border 1802:
There was two sisters in a bower
O Binnorie, O Binnorie
There came a knight to be their wooer
By the Bonnie mill-dams of Binnorie
He courted the eldest with glove and ring
But he loved the youngest above a’ thing
He courted the eldest with broach and knife
But he loved the youngest aboon his life
The eldest she was vexed sair
An sore envied her sister fair
The eldest to the youngest ane
Will ye go and see our father’s ships come to land
She’s ta’en her by her lily white hand
And led her down to the river strand
The youngest stood upon a stone
The eldest came and pushed her in
She took her by her middle sma
An dashed her bonnie back to the jaw
O sister sister reach your hand
An ye shall be heir to half my land
O sister I’ll not reach your hand
And I’ll be heir to all your land
Shame fa the hand that I should take
It twin’d me an my world’s make
O sister sister reach me but your glove
And sweet William shall be your love
Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove
And Sweet William shall better be my love
Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair
Garrd me gang maiden for ever mair
Sometimes she sunk and sometimes she swam
Until she came to the miller’s dam
O father, father draw your dam
There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan
The miller hasted and drew his dam
And there found a drowned woman
You could not see her yellow hair
For gowd and pearls that were so rare
You could not see her middle sma
Her gowden girdle was sae bra
A famous harper passing by
The sweet pale face he chanced to spy
And when he looked the ladye on
He sighed and made a heavy moan
He made harp from her breast bone
Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone
The strings he framed from her yellow hair
Whose notes made sad the listening ear
He brought her to her father’s hall
And there the court assembled all
He laid this harp upon a stone
And straight it began to pay alone
O yonder sits my father, the king
And yonder sits my mother, he queen
And yonder stands my brother Hugh
And by him my William, sweet and true
But the last tune that the harp did play
Was ‘ Woe to my sister, false Helen.’
Barbara Roberts 