𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔞𝔱

An ANTHOLOGY of
FANTASTIC PROSE and VERSE
with COMMENTARY
---
Compiled by Mr. Jack M. O'Donnell

23/4/25 --- Jack Rowland

INTRODUCTION

Today’s text is the ballad Jack Rowland, composed by Martin Carthy for his 1984 album Out of the cut after a fairy-tale Childe Rowland, first transcribed by Robert Jamieson in 1814. The ballad recounts how the boy Jack Rowland, with the help of his mother’s wonderous mare, rescued his siblings from the sorcerous clutches of the Elf King.

I think this ballad—despite its relative novelty—a good example of authentic traditional fairy-narratives. The nature and logic of magic as depicted in this ballad well illustrates how people in the time before materialism-physicalism, and especially before fantasy tabletop games, understood magic. Consider how the mare moves widdershins (anticlockwise) thrice while crying aloud "open door and let me ride!" to gain entry to the Elf King’s barrow. No wand nor amulet nor runes are needed, only a simple motion and the vocalising of her will; she tells the secret door to open, and it obeys.

The shape-shifting battle between the Elf King and the black mare is another great example of folkloric magic. Rather than shooting beams of indeterminate energies at one another whilst shouting, they attempt to evade and thwart the other through creative shifting. The Elf King becomes a flame, so the mare becomes a flood. In response, he turns into a fish to hide in the water, but she becomes a net to catch him, but he in turn becomes a ship. A similar contest of sorcery can be seen in the ballad The Twa Magicians.

A word might also be said for the wonderfully evocative imagery found in this ballad. For one example, the mare Jack rides "she [is] black as the dark midnight/And her eyes shone far as the evening star/That put the sun to flight"; a vivid way to describe a horse, but also such a brilliant description of dusk, with the celestial bodies treated as animate beings rather than mere balls of plasma.

THE TEXT

Jack Rowland

There was Jack Rowland and his two brothers,
Went out to play at ball
And there was their sister Ellen Rowland,
in the midst among them all.

She tossed the ball so very high,
She caught it with her knee,
She kicked it high over high churchyard,
Where no-one it could see.

And she’s hitched her skirts up around her waist,
And after the ball she’s run,
They waited long her three brothers,
But she never come home again.

So up the hill and down the hill,
Three weeping brothers roamed,
They told their mother of Ellen Rowland,
How she has vanished and gone.

And it’s "Oh my love," and cries their mother,
And "ever alas!" cries she:
"For she has gone with the King of the Hill
No more by us she’ll be seen!"

So up and rose the first brother,
And he was a proud young man,
He swore an oath and a solemn oath,
That Ellen he’d seek and find.

And he’s run down to his father’s stable,
He’s saddled the bonny grey,
And as the sun looked over the hill,
We watched him ride away.

And up and rose the second brother,
A proud young man was he,
And he swore an oath and a solemn oath,
That Ellen he’d find and free.

And he’s run down to his father’s stable,
He’s saddled the bonny brown,
And as the sun stood up in the sky,
We watched him ride from home.

We stayed long and very long,
With our gloves all in our hand,
And sad were hearts all over the town,
For he never come home again.

Up and rose then Jack the fool,
He’s the youngest of all the three,
He’s saddled and bridled his mother’s horse,
But he wept so bitterly.

She spoke to him, his mother’s horse,
As they rode out of the way,
She says: "Never you fear, you Jack Rowland,
But you listen what I do say."

"And remember the song the spider sings
When she comes to court the fly!"

"For never a drop must you eat nor drink,
As we go along our road,
And all that help us on the way
You must leave them lying dead."

So Jack Rowland has left his good long bow,
And his arrows one by one,
And he’s taken his father’s good long gun
That never was drawn in vain.

And never a drop did they eat or drink,
As on the way they rode
And all that helped them on the way,
Jack Rowland has left them dead.

The horse that Jack Rowland sat on,
She was black as the dark midnight
And her eyes shone far as the evening star
That put the sun to flight.

As Jack Rowland to the dark tower came,
And he stood there without,
Three times all around the place
The horse spun round about.

And she cried: "Open door and open door,
Open and let me ride!"
And ere the third time she has spoke,
See the door swing open wide.

And he has spied some lovely tower
that was lined with the silver grey,
All hung with mists and a heavy dew
That shone clear as any day.

No ceiling could this young man spy,
No windows were there to be seen,
But all round his head it shone blood red
As the sun that sets at e’en.

And he rode on and further on,
As the tears came falling fast,
For he thought he saw his sister Ellen,
Wandering like any ghost.

And she cried: "Woe be to you, Jack Rowland,
For your life’s not worth a pin,
For had you a hundred thousand lives,
You should not spare one of them!"

"Oh pity on you Jack Rowland,
Why stayed you not at home?
When the King of the Hill you find,
Then help you will find none."

With that in come the King himself,
All glorious to be seen,
For he come riding the storm and the wind,
With a club all in each hand.

And he cried:"Rise, rise Jack Rowland,
Rise, rise and run,
Now I smell Jack Rowland’s blood,
Jack Rowland’s day is done!"

"Get up, get up you Jack Rowland,
If you would fight with me,
And we will see how a frightened man
Will let his courage flee!"

And first he appeared as a raging bear,
And then as a writhing snake,
And then as a herd of angry bulls,
That roared all in his face.

Then he became a burning bush,
With a flame that leapt so high,
But he sang the song the spider sings,
When he comes to court the fly.

But up and rose Jack Rowland’s horse,
So loud I heard her cry:
"Stand fast and fear you not," she cries,
"No harm will come to thee".

There she stood on the high hill top,
And the stars blazed in her mane,
And she has turned to a mighty flood,
And she bore down on the flame.

The King has changed to a little fish,
To float all in the sea,
And he fell as fast into the flood,
As the dead branch from a tree.

But she has changed to ropes and lines,
And she hunted the ocean floor,
But he has become a fishing smack,
And he hauled all lines aboard.

So she has changed all in the sky,
To a gale that howled and roared,
She filled his sails she beat his sides,
And she drove him onto shore.

So he’s become the deep dark night,
And he dropped to the valley floor,
But she rose up as the summer dawn,
And she drove him on before.

And she cried: "Rise, rise Jack Rowland,
And the sun will rise with thee,
And as the dew falls from the leaves,
We shall see what you shall see".

And as the dew fell from the leaves,
And the daylight drew all round,
He saw his sister and his two brothers
Mother-naked on the ground.

And he’s taken them each all in his arms,
And he’s kissed them cheek and chin,
He’s wrapped them up in a cloak of gold
And they’ve gone riding home.