Polly Vaughan

Polly Vaughan by A Sunday Song


The song this week was brought to my mind during one of the many gale driven storms this week. I've always thought this a strange song with the hunter mistaking a woman (and his true love no less) for a swan due to her apron being wrapped around her. Reading further into the history there are two main threads of theory surrounding the subject matter: firstly that it echoes previous myths and legends involving metamorphoses of a maiden into a swan (highlighted in other versions of the song by the lady's fair skin) or of a hunter shooting and killing his love by accident. The other thread of thinking is the proliferation of rifles amongst hunters simply lead to a greater number of accidents... You can make up your mind as to which version you think is more probable, more interesting or just sounds better when introducing the song!

This song is performed by the excellent Rosemary Lippard with Tim on guitar, of the song Rose says:

"I first heard Polly Vaughan sung by Anne Briggs whose version I've adapted. I was caught by the haunting tune and her clear, steady voice which perfectly complements and gives such gravity to the melancholy lyric. I love the origins of the tale, which go back to a folklore which says that some magical maids transform into swans or white deer by night and are hunted by a brother or a lover and are killed before re-assuming their human shape."

Come all you young fellows that would handle a gun,
Beware how you shoot as the night's coming on,
For my Jimmy met me in the woods, he mistook me for a swan
And he shot me and killed me and my spirit comes to warn

As I was a-walking in a shower of rain
I sheltered in a green bush, my hair and clothes to save
My white apron thrown over me, he mistook me for a swan
And he shot me, killed me at the setting of the sun

Then Jimmy bore my body with his dog and his gun
Crying "Uncle dear Uncle oh what have I done?
I met my love in a dark wood; I mistook her for a swan
And I shot her and killed her for sport and the hunt"

Then out rushed her uncle with his locks hanging grey
Crying "Jimmy dear Jimmy don't you dare run away
Don't let them cry guilty 'til the trial do come on
For they never will hang you for the shooting of a swan"

Well the trial came on and my spirit could not rest
To think of my true love taken under arrest
Crying "let Jimmy go free whom I've loved my life long
For he never would have shot his own Polly Vaughan"