The English and Scottish Popular Ballads :: :: University of Virginia Library

When shee had tane the mantle,
of cloth that was made,
Shee had no more left on her
but a tassell and a threed:
Then euery knight in the kings court
bade euill might shee speed.

24

Shee threw downe the mantle,
that bright was of blee,
And fast with a redd rudd
to her chamber can shee flee.

25

Craddocke called forth his ladye,
and bade her come in;
Saith, ‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
with a litle dinne.

26

‘Winne this mantle, ladye,
and it shalbe thine
If thou neuer did amisse
since thou wast mine.’

27

Forth came Craddockes ladye
shortlye and anon,
But boldlye to the mantle
then is shee gone.

273

28

When shee had tane the mantle,
and cast itt her about,
Vpp att her great toe
itt began to crinkle and crowt;
Shee said, ‘Bowe downe, mantle,
and shame me not for nought.

29

‘Once I did amisse,
I tell you certainlye,
When I kist Craddockes mouth
vnder a greene tree,
When I kist Craddockes mouth
before he marryed mee.’

30

When shee had her shreeuen,
and her sines shee had tolde,
The mantle stoode about her
right as shee wold;

31

Seemelye of coulour,
glittering like gold;
Then euery knight in Arthurs court
did her behold.

32

Then spake dame Gueneuer
to Arthur our king:
‘She hath tane yonder mantle,
not with wright but with wronge!

33

‘See you not yonder woman
that maketh her selfe soe clene?
I haue seene tane out of her bedd
of men fiueteene;

34

‘Preists, clarkes, and wedded men,
from her by-deene;
Yett shee taketh the mantle,
and maketh her-selfe cleane!’

35

Then spake the litle boy
that kept the mantle in hold;
Sayes ‘King, chasten thy wiffe;
of her words shee is to bold.

36

‘Shee is a bitch and a witch,
and a whore bold;
King, in thine owne hall
thou art a cuchold.’

37

The litle boy stoode
looking ouer a dore;
He was ware of a wyld bore,
wold haue werryed a man.

38

He pulld forth a wood kniffe,
fast thither that he ran;
He brought in the bores head,
and quitted him like a man.

39

He brought in the bores head,
and was wonderous bold;
He said there was neuer a cucholds kniffe
carue itt that cold.

40

Some rubbed their kniues
vppon a whetstone;
Some threw them vnder the table,
and said they had none.

41

King Arthur and the child
stood looking them vpon;
All their kniues edges
turned backe againe.

42

Craddoccke had a litle kniue
of iron and of steele;
He birtled the bores head
wonderous weele,
That euery knight in the kings court
had a morssell.

43

The litle boy had a horne,
of red gold that ronge;
He said, ‘there was noe cuckolde
shall drinke of my horne,
But he shold itt sheede,
either behind or beforne.’

44

Some shedd on their shoulder,
and some on their knee;
He that cold not hitt his mouth
put it in his eye;
And he that was a cuckold,
euery man might him see.

45

Craddoccke wan the horne
and the bores head;
His ladye wan the mantle
vnto her meede;
Euerye such a louely ladye,
God send her well to speede!

274

30
KING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL

283

KING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL

[_]

Percy MS., p. 24. Hales and Furnivall, I, 61; Madden's Syr Gawayne, p. 275.

[OMITTED]

1

[Saies, ‘Come here, cuzen Gawaine so gay,]
My sisters sonne be yee;
Ffor you shall see one of the fairest round tables
That euer you see with your eye.’

2

Then bespake Lady Queen Gueneuer,
And these were the words said shee:
‘I know where a round table is, thou noble king,
Is worth thy round table and other such three.

3

‘The trestle that stands vnder this round table,’ she said,
‘Lowe downe to the mould,
It is worth thy round table, thou worthy king,
Thy halls, and all thy gold.

4

‘The place where this round table stands in,
[OMITTED]

284

It is worth thy castle, thy gold, thy fee,
And all good Litle Britaine.’

5

‘Where may that table be, lady?’ quoth hee,
‘Or where may all that goodly building be?’
‘You shall it seeke,’ shee says, ‘till you it find,
For you shall neuer gett more of me.’

6

Then bespake him noble King Arthur,
These were the words said hee:
‘Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,

7

‘Ile never sleepe one night there as I doe another,
Till that round table I see:
Sir Marramiles and Sir Tristeram,
Fellowes that ye shall bee.

8

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘Weele be clad in palmers weede,
Fiue palmers we will bee;

9

‘There is noe outlandish man will vs abide,
Nor will vs come nye.’
Then they riued east and thé riued west,
In many a strange country.

10

Then they tranckled a litle further,
They saw a battle new sett:
‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur,
[OMITTED] well [OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

11

But when he cam to this [OMITTED] c [OMITTED]
And to the palace gate,
Soe ready was ther a proud porter,
And met him soone therat.

12

Shooes of gold the porter had on,
And all his other rayment was vnto the same:
‘Now, by my faith,’ saies noble King Arthur,
‘Yonder is a minion swaine.’

13

Then bespake noble King Arthur,
These were the words says hee:
‘Come hither, thou proud porter,
I pray thee come hither to me.

14

‘I haue two poore rings of my finger,
The better of them Ile giue to thee;
Tell who may be lord of this castle,’ he sayes,
‘Or who is lord in this cuntry?’

15

‘Cornewall King,’ the porter sayes,
‘There is none soe rich as hee;
Neither in christendome, nor yet in heathennest,
None hath soe much gold as he.’

16

And then bespake him noble King Arthur,
These were the words sayes hee:
‘I haue two poore rings of my finger,
The better of them Ile giue thee,
If thou wilt greete him well, Cornewall King,
And greete him well from me.

17

‘Pray him for one nights lodging and two meales meate,
For his love that dyed vppon a tree;
Of one ghesting and two meales meate,
For his loue that dyed vppon a tree.

18

‘Of one ghesting, of two meales meate,
For his love that was of virgin borne,
And in the morning that we may scape away,
Either without scath or scorne.’

19

Then forth is gone this proud porter,
As fast as he cold hye,
And when he came befor Cornewall King,
He kneeled downe on his knee.

20

Sayes, ‘I haue beene porter-man, at thy gate,
This thirty winter and three [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

21

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Our Lady was borne; then thought Cornewall King
These palmers had beene in Brittaine.

22

Then bespake him Cornwall King,
These were the words he said there:
‘Did you euer know a comely king,
His name was King Arthur?’

285

23

And then bespake him noble King Arthur,
These were the words said hee:
‘I doe not know that comly king,
But once my selfe I did him see.’
Then bespake Cornwall King againe,
These were the words said he:

24

Sayes, ‘Seuen yeere I was clad and fed,
In Litle Brittaine, in a bower;
I had a daughter by King Arthurs wife,
That now is called my flower;
For King Arthur, that kindly cockward,
Hath none such in his bower.

25

‘For I durst sweare, and saue my othe,
That same lady soe bright,
That a man that were laid on his death bed
Wold open his eyes on her to haue sight.’
‘Now, by my faith,’ sayes noble King Arthur,
‘And that's a full faire wight!’

26

And then bespake Cornewall [King] againe,
And these were the words he said:
‘Come hither, fiue or three of my knights,
And feitch me downe my steed;
King Arthur, that foule cockeward,
Hath none such, if he had need.

27

‘For I can ryde him as far on a day
As King Arthur can doe any of his on three;
And is it not a pleasure for a king
When he shall ryde forth on his iourney?

28

‘For the eyes that beene in his head,
Thé glister as doth the gleed.’
‘Now, by my faith,’ says noble King Arthur,
‘That is a well faire steed.’

[OMITTED]

29

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘Nobody say [OMITTED]
But one that's learned to speake.’

30

Then King Arthur to his bed was brought,
A greeiued man was hee;
And soe were all his fellowes with him,
From him thé thought neuer to flee.

31

Then take they did that lodly groome,
And under the rub-chadler closed was hee,
And he was set by King Arthurs bed-side,
To heere theire talke and theire comunye;

32

That he might come forth, and make proclamation,
Long before it was day;
It was more for King Cornwalls pleasure,
Then it was for King Arthurs pay.

33

And when King Arthur in his bed was laid,
These were the words said hee:
‘Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That Ile be the bane of Cornwall Kinge,
Litle Brittaine or euer I see!’

34

‘It is an vnaduised vow,’ saies Gawaine the gay,
‘As ever king hard make I;
But wee that beene fiue christian men,
Of the christen faith are wee,
And we shall fight against anoynted king
And all his armorie.’

35

And then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
‘Why, if thou be afraid, Sir Gawaine the gay,
Goe home, and drinke wine in thine owne country.’

36

And then bespake Sir Gawaine the gay,
And these were the words said hee:
‘Nay, seeing you have made such a hearty vow,
Heere another vow make will I.

37

‘Ile make mine avow to God,
And alsoe to the Trinity,
That I will haue yonder faire lady
To Litle Brittaine with mee.

38

‘Ile hose her hourly to my heart,
And with her Ile worke my will;’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

39

[OMITTED]
These were the words sayd hee:
‘Befor I wold wrestle with yonder feend,
It is better be drowned in the sea.’

286

40

And then bespake Sir Bredbeddle,
And these were the words said he:
‘Why, I will wrestle with yon lodly feend,
God, my gouernor thou wilt bee!’

41

Then bespake him noble Arthur,
And these were the words said he:
‘What weapons wilt thou haue, thou gentle knight?
I pray thee tell to me.’

42

He sayes, ‘Collen brand Ile haue in my hand,
And a Millaine knife fast by me knee,
And a Danish axe fast in my hands,
That a sure weapon I thinke wilbe.’

43

Then with his Collen brand that he had in his hand
The bunge of that rub-chandler he burst in three;
With that start out a lodly feend,
With seuen heads, and one body.

44

The fyer towards the element flew,
Out of his mouth, where was great plentie;
The knight stoode in the middle and fought,
That it was great ioy to see.

45

Till his Collaine brand brake in his hand,
And his Millaine knife burst on his knee,
And then the Danish axe burst in his hand first,
That a sur weapon he thought shold be.

46

But now is the knight left without any weapons,
And alacke! it was the more pitty;
But a surer weapon then he had one,
Had neuer lord in Christentye;
And all was but one litle booke,
He found it by the side of the sea.

47

He found it at the sea-side,
Wrucked upp in a floode;
Our Lord had written it with his hands,
And sealed it with his bloode.

[OMITTED]

48

‘That thou doe not s [OMITTED]
But ly still in that wall of stone,
Till I haue beene with noble King Arthur,
And told him what I haue done.’

49

And when he came to the kings chamber,
He cold of his curtesie:
Says, ‘Sleepe you, wake you, noble King Arthur?
And euer Iesus waken yee!’

50

‘Nay, I am not sleeping, I am waking,’
These were the words said hee;
‘Ffor thee I haue card; how hast thou fared?
O gentle knight, let me see.’

51

The knight wrought the king his booke,
Bad him behold, reede and see;
And euer he found it on the backside of the leafe
As noble Arthur wold wish it to be.

52

And then bespake him King Arthur,
‘Alas! thow gentle knight, how may this be,
That I might see him in the same licknesse
That he stood vnto thee?’

53

And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said hee:
‘If youle stand stifly in the battell stronge,
For I haue won all the victory.’

54

Then bespake him the king againe,
And these were the words said hee:
‘If wee stand not stifly in this battell strong,
Wee are worthy to be hanged all on a tree.’

55

Then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said he:
Saies, ‘I doe coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
In the same licknesse thou stood vnto me.’

56

With that start out a lodly feend,
With seuen heads, and one body;
The fier towards the element flaugh,
Out of his mouth, where was great plenty.

57

The knight stood in the middle p [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

58

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

287

[OMITTED] they stood the space of an houre,
I know not what they did.

59

And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
And these were the words said he:
Saith, ‘I coniure thee, thou fowle feend,
That thou feitch downe the steed that we see.’

60

And then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie,
And feitch he did that faire steed,
And came againe by and by.

61

Then bespake him Sir Marramiles,
And these were the words said hee:
‘Riding of this steed, brother Bredbeddle,
The mastery belongs to me.’

62

Marramiles tooke the steed to his hand,
To ryd him he was full bold;
He cold noe more make him goe
Then a child of three yeere old.

63

He laid vppon him with heele and hand,
With yard that was soe fell;
‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile,
‘For I thinke he be the devill of hell.

64

‘Helpe! brother Bredbeddle,’ says Marramile,
‘Helpe! for Christs pittye;
Ffor without thy help, brother Bredbeddle,
He will neuer be rydden for me.’

65

Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
These were the words said he:
‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beane,
Thou tell me how this steed was riddin in his country.’

66

He saith, ‘there is a gold wand
Stands in King Cornwalls study windowe;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

67

‘Let him take that wand in that window,
And strike three strokes on that steed;
And then he will spring forth of his hand
As sparke doth out of gleede.’

68

And then bespake him the Greene Knight,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

69

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
A lowd blast he may blow then.

70

And then bespake Sir Bredebeddle,
To the ffeend these words said hee:
Says, ‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
The powder-box thou feitch me.’

71

Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie,
And feich he did the powder-box,
And came againe by and by.

72

Then Sir Tristeram tooke powder forth of that box,
And blent it with warme sweet milke,
And there put it vnto that horne,
And swilled it about in that ilke.

73

Then he tooke the horne in his hand,
And a lowd blast he blew;
He rent the horne vp to the midst,
All his ffellowes this thé knew.

74

Then bespake him the Greene Knight,
These were the words said he:
Saies, ‘I coniure thee, thou Burlow-beanie,
That thou feitch me the sword that I see.’

75

Then forth is gone Burlow-beanie,
As fast as he cold hie,
And feitch he did that faire sword,
And came againe by and by.

76

Then bespake him Sir Bredbeddle,
To the king these words said he:
‘Take this sword in thy hand, thou noble King Arthur,
For the vowes sake that thou made Ile giue it th[ee,]
And goe strike off King Cornewalls head,
In bed were he doth lye.’

288

77

Then forth is gone noble King Arthur,
As fast as he cold hye,
And strucken he hath off King Cornwalls head,
And came againe by and by.

78

He put the head vpon a swords point,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

31
THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAIN

THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAIN

[_]

Percy MS., p. 46. Hales & Furnivall, I, 105; Madden's Syr Gawayne, p. 288; Percy's Reliques, ed. 1794, III, 350.

293

1

Kinge Arthur liues in merry Carleile,
And seemely is to see,
And there he hath with him Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright of blee.

2

And there he hath with [him] Queene Genever,
That bride soe bright in bower,
And all his barons about him stoode,
That were both stiffe and stowre.

3

The king kept a royall Christmasse,
Of mirth and great honor,
And when [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

4

‘And bring me word what thing it is
That a woman [will] most desire;
This shalbe thy ransome, Arthur,’ he sayes,
‘For Ile haue noe other hier.’

294

5

King Arthur then held vp his hand,
According thene as was the law;
He tooke his leaue of the baron there,
And homward can he draw.

6

And when he came to merry Carlile,
To his chamber he is gone,
And ther came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
As he did make his mone.

7

And there came to him his cozen Sir Gawaine,
That was a curteous knight;
‘Why sigh you soe sore, vnckle Arthur,’ he said,
‘Or who hath done thee vnright?’

8

‘O peace, O peace, thou gentle Gawaine,
That faire may thee beffall!
For if thou knew my sighing soe deepe,
Thou wold not meruaile att all.

9

‘Ffor when I came to Tearne Wadling,
A bold barron there I fand,
With a great club vpon his backe,
Standing stiffe and strong.

10

‘And he asked me wether I wold fight
Or from him I shold begone,
O[r] else I must him a ransome pay,
And soe depart him from.

11

‘To fight with him I saw noe cause;
Methought it was not meet;
For he was stiffe and strong with-all,
His strokes were nothing sweete.

12

‘Therefor this is my ransome, Gawaine,
I ought to him to pay;
I must come againe, as I am sworne,
Vpon the New Yeers day;

13

‘And I must bring him word what thing it is
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

14

Then king Arthur drest him for to ryde,
In one soe rich array,
Toward the fore-said Tearne Wadling,
That he might keepe his day.

15

And as he rode over a more,
Hee see a lady where shee sate
Betwixt an oke and a greene hollen;
She was cladd in red scarlett.

16

Then there as shold haue stood her mouth,
Then there was sett her eye;
The other was in her forhead fast,
The way that she might see.

17

Her nose was crooked and turnd outward,
Her mouth stood foule a-wry;
A worse formed lady than shee was,
Neuer man saw with his eye.

18

To halch vpon him, King Arthur,
This lady was full faine,
But King Arthur had forgott his lesson,
What he shold say againe.

19

‘What knight art thou,’ the lady sayd,
‘That will not speak to me?
Of me be thou nothing dismayd,
Tho I be vgly to see.

20

‘For I haue halched you curteouslye,
And you will not me againe;
Yett I may happen Sir Knight,’ shee said,
‘To ease thee of thy paine.’

21

‘Giue thou ease me, lady,’ he said,
‘Or helpe me any thing,
Thou shalt have gentle Gawaine, my cozen,
And marry him with a ring.’

22

‘Why, if I help thee not, thou noble King Arthur,
Of thy owne hearts desiringe,
Of gentle Gawaine [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

23

And when he came to the Tearne Wadling,
The baron there cold he finde,
With a great weapon on his backe,
Standing stiffe and stronge.

24

And then he tooke King Arthurs letters in his hands,
And away he cold them fling,
And then he puld out a good browne sword,
And cryd himselfe a king.

295

25

And he sayd, I have thee and thy land, Arthur,
To doe as it pleaseth me,
For this is not thy ransome sure,
Therfore yeeld thee to me.

26

And then bespoke him noble Arthur,
And bad him hold his hand:
‘And giue me leaue to speake my mind
In defence of all my land.’

27

He said, As I came over a more,
I see a lady where shee sate
Betweene an oke and a green hollen;
Shee was clad in red scarlett.

28

And she says a woman will haue her will,
And this is all her cheef desire:
Doe me right, as thou art a baron of sckill,
This is thy ransome and all thy hyer.

29

He sayes, An early vengeance light on her!
She walkes on yonder more;
It was my sister that told thee this,
And she is a misshappen hore.

30

But heer Ile make mine avow to God
To doe her an euill turne,
For an euer I may thate fowle theefe get,
In a fyer I will her burne.

[OMITTED]

31

Sir Lancelott and Sir Steven bold,
They rode with them that day,
And the formost of the company
There rode the steward Kay.

32

Soe did Sir Banier and Sir Bore,
Sir Garrett with them soe gay,
Soe did Sir Tristeram that gentle knight,
To the forrest fresh and gay.

33

And when he came to the greene forrest,
Vnderneath a greene holly tree,
Their sate that lady in red scarlet
That vnseemly was to see.

34

Sir Kay beheld this ladys face,
And looked vppon her swire;
‘Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he sayes,
‘Of his kisse he stands in feare.’

35

Sir Kay beheld the lady againe,
And looked vpon her snout;
‘Whosoeuer kisses this lady,’ he saies,
‘Of his kisse he stands in doubt.’

36

‘Peace, cozen Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
‘Amend thee of thy life;
For there is a knight amongst vs all
That must marry her to his wife.’

37

‘What! wedd her to wiffe!’ then said Sir Kay,
‘In the diuells name anon!
Gett me a wiffe where-ere I may,
For I had rather be slaine!’

38

Then some tooke vp their hawkes in hast,
And some tooke vp their hounds,
And some sware they wold not marry her
For citty nor for towne.

39

And then be-spake him noble King Arthur,
And sware there by this day,
‘For a litle foule sight and misliking
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

40

Then shee said, Choose thee, gentle Gawaine,
Truth as I doe say,
Wether thou wilt haue me in this liknesse
In the night or else in the day.

41

And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Was one soe mild of moode,
Sayes, Well I know what I wold say,
God grant it may be good!

42

To haue thee fowle in the night
When I with thee shold play —
Yet I had rather, if I might,
Haue thee fowle in the day.

43

‘What! when lords goe with ther feires,’ shee said,
‘Both to the ale and wine,
Alas! then I must hyde my selfe,
I must not goe withinne.’

44

And then bespake him gentle Gawaine,
Said, Lady, that's but skill;
And because thou art my owne lady,
Thou shalt haue all thy will.

296

45

Then she said, Blesed be thou, gentle Gawain,
This day that I thee see,
For as thou seest me att this time,
From hencforth I wilbe.

46

My father was an old knight,
And yett it chanced soe
That he marryed a younge lady
That brought me to this woe.

47

Shee witched me, being a faire young lady,
To the greene forrest to dwell,
And there I must walke in womans liknesse,
Most like a feend of hell.

48

She witched my brother to a carlish b [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

49

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘That looked soe foule, and that was wont
On the wild more to goe.’

50

‘Come kisse her, brother Kay,’ then said Sir Gawaine,
‘And amend thé of thy liffe;
I sweare this is the same lady
That I marryed to my wiffe.’

51

Sir Kay kissed that lady bright,
Standing vpon his ffeete;
He swore, as he was trew knight,
The spice was neuer soe sweete.

52

‘Well, cozen Gawaine,’ sayes Sir Kay,
‘Thy chance is fallen arright,
For thou hast gotten one of the fairest maids
I euer saw with my sight.’

53

‘It is my fortune,’ said Sir Gawaine;
‘For my vnckle Arthurs sake
I am glad as grasse wold be of raine,
Great ioy that I may take.’

54

Sir Gawaine tooke the lady by the one arme,
Sir Kay tooke her by the tother,
They led her straight to King Arthur,
As they were brother and brother.

55

King Arthur welcomed them there all,
And soe did Lady Geneuer his queene,
With all the knights of the Round Table,
Most seemly to be seene.

56

King Arthur beheld that lady faire
That was soe faire and bright,
He thanked Christ in Trinity
For Sir Gawaine that gentle knight.

57

Soe did the knights, both more and lesse,
Reioyced all that day
For the good chance that hapened was
To Sir Gawaine and his lady gay.

297

32
KING HENRY

King Henry

[_]

a. The Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 31. b. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1802, II, 132.

298

1

Lat never a man a wooing wend
That lacketh thingis three;
A routh o gold, an open heart,
Ay fu o charity.

2

As this I speak of King Henry,
For he lay burd-alone;
An he's doen him to a jelly hunt's ha,
Was seven miles frae a town.

3

He chas'd the deer now him before,
An the roe down by the den,
Till the fattest buck in a' the flock
King Henry he has slain.

4

O he has doen him to his ha,
To make him beerly cheer;
An in it came a griesly ghost,
Steed stappin i the fleer.

299

5

Her head hat the reef-tree o the house,
Her middle ye mot wel span;
He's thrown to her his gay mantle,
Says, ‘Lady, hap your lingcan.’

6

Her teeth was a' like teather stakes,
Her nose like club or mell;
An I ken naething she 'peard to be,
But the fiend that wons in hell.

7

‘Some meat, some meat, ye King Henry,
Some meat ye gie to me!’
‘An what meat's in this house, lady,
An what ha I to gie?’
‘O ye do kill your berry-brown steed,
An you bring him here to me.’

8

O whan he slew his berry-brown steed,
Wow but his heart was sair!
Shee eat him [a'] up, skin an bane,
Left naething but hide an hair.

9

‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gi to me!’
‘An what meat's in this house, lady,
An what ha I to gi?’
‘O ye do kill your good gray-hounds,
An ye bring them a' to me.’

10

O whan he slew his good gray-hounds,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She eat them a' up, skin an bane,
Left naething but hide an hair.

11

‘Mair meat, mair meat, ye King Henry,
Mair meat ye gi to me!’
‘An what meat's i this house, lady,
An what ha I to gi?’
‘O ye do kill your gay gos-hawks,
An ye bring them here to me.’

12

O whan he slew his gay gos-hawks,
Wow but his heart was sair!
She eat them a' up, skin an bane,
Left naething but feathers bare.

13

‘Some drink, some drink, now, King Henry,
Some drink ye bring to me!’
‘O what drink's i this house, lady,
That you're nae welcome ti?’
‘O ye sew up your horse's hide,
An bring in a drink to me.’

14

And he's sewd up the bloody hide,
A puncheon o wine put in;
She drank it a' up at a waught,
Left na ae drap ahin.

15

‘A bed, a bed, now, King Henry,
A bed you mak to me!
For ye maun pu the heather green,
An mak a bed to me.’

16

O pu'd has he the heather green,
An made to her a bed,
An up has he taen his gay mantle,
An oer it has he spread.

17

‘Tak aff your claiths, now, King Henry,
An lye down by my side!’
‘O God forbid,’ says King Henry,
‘That ever the like betide;
That ever the fiend that wons in hell
Shoud streak down by my side.’

[OMITTED]

18

Whan night was gane, and day was come,
An the sun shone throw the ha,
The fairest lady that ever was seen
Lay atween him an the wa.

19

‘O well is me!’ says King Henry,
‘How lang'll this last wi me?’
Then out it spake that fair lady,
‘Even till the day you dee.

20

‘For I've met wi mony a gentle knight
That's gien me sic a fill,
But never before wi a courteous knight
That ga me a' my will.’

300

33
KEMPY KAY

301

Kempy Kay

KEMPY KAY—A

[_]

Pitcairn's MSS, II, 125, as taken down by Mr Pitcairn from the singing of his aunt, Mrs Gammell, who had learned it in the neighborhood of Kincaid, Stirlingshire, when a child, or about 1770. Scotish Ballads and Songs [James Maidment], Edinburgh, 1859, p. 35; Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 81.

1

Kempy Kaye's a wooing gane,
Far, far ayont the sea,
And he has met with an auld, auld man,
His gudefaythir to be.

2

‘It's I'm coming to court your daughter dear,
And some part of your gear:’
‘And by my sooth,’ quoth Bengoleer,
‘She'll sare a man a wear.

3

‘My dochter she's a thrifty lass,
She span seven year to me,
And if it were weel counted up,
Full three heire it would be.

4

‘What's the matter wi you, my fair creature,
You look so pale and wan?
I'm sure you was once the fairest creature
That ever the sun shined on.

5

‘Gae scrape yoursel, and gae scart yoursel,
And mak your brucket face clean,
For the wooers are to be here to nighte,
And your body's to be seen.’

6

Sae they scrapit her, and they scartit her,
Like the face of an aussy pan;

302

Syne in cam Kempy Kay himself,
A clever and tall young man.

7

His teeth they were like tether-sticks,
His nose was three fit lang,
Between his shouthers was ells three,
And tween his eyne a span.

8

He led his dochter by the hand,
His dochter ben brought he:
‘O is she not the fairest lass
That's in great Christendye?’

9

Ilka hair intil her head
Was like a heather-cowe,
And ilka louse anunder it
Was like a bruckit ewe.

10

She had tauchy teeth and kaily lips,
And wide lugs, fou o hair;
Her pouches fou o peasemeal-daighe
A' hinging down her spare.

11

Ilka eye intil her head
Was like a rotten plumbe,
And down browed was the queyne,
And sairly did she gloom.

12

Ilka nail upon her hand
Was like an iron rake,
And ilka tooth intil her head
Was like a tether-stake.

[OMITTED]

13

She gied to him a gravat,
O the auld horse's sheet,
And he gied her a gay gold ring,
O the auld couple-root.

Kempy Kay

KEMPY KAY—B

[_]

a. Kinloch MSS, I, 65. b. Kinloch's Ballad Book, p. 41. From the recitation of Mary Barr.

1

Kempy Kaye is a wooing gane,
Far ayont the sea,
And there he met wi auld Goling,
His gudefather to be, be,
His gudefather to be.

2

‘Whar are ye gaun, O Kempy Kaye,
Whar are ye gaun sae sune?’
‘O I am gaun to court a wife,
And think na ye that's weel dune?’

3

‘An ye be gaun to court a wife,
As ye do tell to me,
'Tis ye sall hae my Fusome Fug,
Your ae wife for to be.’

4

Whan auld Goling cam to the house,
He lookit thro a hole,
And there he saw the dirty drab
Just whisking oure the coal.

5

‘Rise up, rise up my Fusome Fug,
And mak your foul face clean,
For the brawest wooer that ere ye saw
Is come develling doun the green.’

6

Up then rose the Fusome Fug,
To mak her foul face clean;
And aye she cursed her mither
She had na water in.

7

She rampit out, and she rampit in,
She rampit but and ben;
The tittles and tattles that hang frae her tail
Wad muck an acre o land.

8

She had a neis upon her face
Was like an auld pat-fit;
Atween her neis bot an her mou
Was inch thick deep wi dirt.

9

She had twa een intil her head
War like twa rotten plums;
The heavy brows hung doun her face,
And O I vow she glooms!

10

He gied to her a braw silk napkin,
Was made o' an auld horse-brat:
‘I ne'er wore a silk napkin a' my life,
But weel I wat Ise wear that.’

11

He gied to her a braw gowd ring,
Was made frae an auld brass pan:
‘I neer wore a gowd ring in a' my life,
But now I wat Ise wear ane.’

12

Whan thir twa lovers had met thegither,
O kissing to get their fill,
The slaver that hang atween their twa gabs
Wad hae tetherd a ten year auld bill.

303

Kempy Kay; or, Kempy Kane

KEMPY KAY—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 193. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxiv, No XXX, the first stanza.

1

Kempy Kaye's a wooing gane,
And far beyond the sea, a wee
And there he met wi Drearylane,
His gay gudefather to be. a wee

2

‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo Drearylane,
‘Gude een, gude een,’ quo he, a wee
‘I've come your dochter's love to win,
I kenna how it will do.’ a wee

3

‘My dochter she's a thrifty lass,
She's spun this gay seven year,
And if it come to gude guiding,
It will be half a heer.’

4

‘Rise up, rise up, ye dirty slut,
And wash your foul face clean;
The wooers will be here the night
That suld been here yestreen.’

5

They took him ben to the fire en,
And set him on a chair;
He looked on the lass that he loved best,
And thought she was wondrous fair.

6

The een that was in our bride's head
Was like twa rotten plooms;
She was a chaunler-chaftit quean,
And O but she did gloom!

7

The skin that was on our bride's breast
Was like a saffron bag,
And aye her hand was at her neek,
And riving up the scabs.

8

The hair that was on our bride's head
Was like a heather-cow,
And every louse that lookit out
Was like a brockit ewe.

9

Betwixd Kempy's shouthers was three ells,
His nose was nine feet lang,
His teeth they were like tether sticks,
Between his eyne a span.

10

So aye they kissed, and aye they clapped,
I wat they kissed weel;
The slaver that hang between their mouths
Wad hae tethered a twa year auld bill.

Kempy Kay

KEMPY KAY—D

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 192.

[OMITTED]

1

The father came unto the door,
And keeked thro the key-hole, a wee
And there he saw his dochter Jean,
Sitting on a coal. a wee

2

They scartit her, and scrapit her,
Wi the hand o a rusty pan, a wee
Her father he did all his best
For to get her a man. a wee

3

She is to the stoups gane,
There is nae water in;
She's cursed the hands and ban'd the feet
That did na bring it in.

4

Out then spak her auld mither,
In her bed whare she lay:
‘If there is nae water in the house,
Gae harl her thro the lin.’

5

O she is to the taipy tapples gane,
That stood for seven year,
And there she washed her foul face clean,
And dried it wi a huggar.

6

He's gien her a gay gold ring,
Just like a cable-rope,
And she's gien him a gay gravat,
Made out o the tail o a sark.

Drowsy Lane

KEMPY KAY—E

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 122.

1

‘Gud een, gud een,’ says Chickmakin,
‘Ye're welcome here,’ says Drowsy Lane;
‘I'm comd to court your daughter Jean,
And marry her wi yer will, a wee.’

2

‘My daughter Jean's a thrifty lass,
She's spun these seven lang years to me,

304

And gin she spin another seven,
She'll munt a half an heir, a wee.’

3

Drowsy Lane, it's he's gane hame,
And keekit through the hole, a wee
And there he saw his daughter Jean
A reeking oer the coal. a wee

4

‘Get up, get up, ye dirty bitch,
And wash yer foul face clean,
For they are to be here the night
That should hae been here yestreen.’

5

Up she rose, pat on her clothes,
She's washen her foul face clean;
She cursd the hands, she ban'd the feet,
That wadna bring the water in.

6

She rubbit hersel, she scrubbit hersel,
Wi the side of a rustit pan, a wee,
And in a little came Chickmakin,
A braw young lad indeed was he.

7

His teeth they were like tether-steeks,
His nose was five feet lang;
Between his shoulders was nine yards broad,
And between his een a span.

8

Ilka hair into his head
Was like a heather-cowe,
And ilka louse that lookit out
Was like a brookit ewe.

9

Thae twa kissd and thae twa clapt,
And thae twa kissd their fill,
And aye the slaver between them hang
Wad tetherd a ten-pund bull.

10

They twa kissd and they twa clapt,
And they gaed to their bed, a wee,
And at their head a knocking stane
And at their feet a mell, a wee.

11

The auld wife she lay in her bed:
‘And gin ye'll do my bidding a wee,
And gin ye'll do my bidding,’ quoth she,
‘Yees whirl her oer the lea, a wee.’

Bar aye your bower door weel

KEMPY KAY—F

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 101.

1

As I cam oer yon misty muir,
And oer yon grass-green hill,
There I saw a campy carle
Going to the mill.
And bar aye yer bower door weel weel,
And bar aye yer bower door weel.

2

I lookit in at her window,
And in at her hove hole,
And there I saw a fousome fag,
Cowering oer a coal.

3

‘Get up, get up, ye fousome fag,
And make yer face fou clean;
For the wooers will be here the night,
And your body will be seen.’

4

He gave her a gay cravat,
'T was of an auld horse-sheet;
He gave her a gay goud ring,
'Twas of an auld tree root.

5

He laid his arms about her neck,
They were like kipple-roots;
And aye he kissd her wi his lips,
They were like meller's hoops.

6

When they were laid in marriage bed,
And covered oer wi fail,
The knocking mell below their heads
Did serve them wondrous weel.

7

Ilka pap into her breasts
Was like a saffron bag,
And aye his hand at her a [OMITTED] e
Was tearing up the scabs.

8

Ilka hair into her head
Was like a heather-cow,
And ilka louse that lookit out
Was like a brookit ewe.

305

King Knapperty

KEMPY KAY—G

[_]

Buchan's MSS, I, 133.

1

King Knapperty he's a hunting gane,
Oer hills and mountains high, high, high,
A gude pike-staff intill his hand,
And dulgets anew forbye, I, I, I,
And dulgets anew forbye.

2

Then he met in wi an auld woman,
Was feeding her flocks near by, I, I, I:
‘I'm come a wooing to your daughter,
And a very gude bargain am I, I, I.’

3

And she's awa to her wee hole house,
Lookd in a wee chip hole,
And there she saw her filthy wee flag,
Was sitting athort the coal.

4

‘Get up, get up, ye filthy foul flag,
And make your foul face clean;
There are wooers coming to the town,
And your foul face mauna be seen.’

5

Then up she raise, an awa she gaes,
And in at the back o the door,
And there a pig o water she saw,
'Twas seven years auld an mair.

6

Aye she rubbed, an aye she scrubbed,
To make her foul face clean,
And aye she bannd the auld wife, her mither,
For nae bringing clean water in.

7

King Knapperty he came in at the door,
Stood even up in the floor;
Altho that she had neer seen him before,
She kent him to be her dear.

8

He has taen her in his arms twa,
And kissd her, cheek and chin:
‘I neer was kissd afore in my life,
But this night got mony ane.’

9

He has put his hand in his pocket,
And he's taen out a ring:
Says, ‘Take ye that, my dearest dear,
It is made o the brazen pan.’

10

She thankd him ance, she thankd him twice,
She thankd him oer again:
‘I neer got a ring before in my life,
But this night hae gotten ane.’

11

These lovers bed it was well made,
And at their hearts' desire;
These lovers bed it was well made,
At the side o the kitchen fire.

12

The bolster that these lovers had
Was the mattock an the mell,
And the covring that these lovers had
Was the clouted cloak an pale.

13

The draps that fell frae her twa een
Woud have gard a froth-mill gang,
An [the] clunkerts that hung at their heels
Woud hae muckd an acre o land.

14

An ilka hair that was in their head
Was like a heather-cow,
And ilka tenant that it containd
Was like a lintseed-bow.

306

34
KEMP OWYNE

309

Kemp Owyne; or, Kemp Owayne

KEMP OWYNE—A

[_]

Buchan, Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 78, from Mr Nicol of Strichen, as learned in his youth from old people; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 374; Motherwell's MS., p. 448.

1

Her mother died when she was young,
Which gave her cause to make great moan;
Her father married the warst woman
That ever lived in Christendom.

2

She served her with foot and hand,
In every thing that she could dee,
Till once, in an unlucky time,
She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.

3

Says, ‘Lie you there, dove Isabel,
And all my sorrows lie with thee;
Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,
And borrow you with kisses three,
Let all the warld do what they will,
Oh borrowed shall you never be!’

4

Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And all the people, far and near,
Thought that a savage beast was she.

5

These news did come to Kemp Owyne,
Where he lived, far beyond the sea;
He hasted him to Craigy's sea,
And on the savage beast lookd he.

6

Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted was about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
‘Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

7

‘Here is a royal belt,’ she cried,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I vow my belt your death shall be.’

8

He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal belt he brought him wi;
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted twice about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
‘Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

9

‘Here is a royal ring,’ she said,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your finger it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my ring your death shall be.’

10

He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal ring he brought him wi;
Her breath was strang, her hair was lang,
And twisted ance about the tree,
And with a swing she came about:
‘Come to Craigy's sea, and kiss with me.

11

‘Here is a royal brand,’ she said,
‘That I have found in the green sea;
And while your body it is on,
Drawn shall your blood never be;
But if you touch me, tail or fin,
I swear my brand your death shall be.’

12

He stepped in, gave her a kiss,
The royal brand he brought him wi;
Her breath was sweet, her hair grew short,
And twisted nane about the tree,
And smilingly she came about,
As fair a woman as fair could be.

Kempion

KEMP OWYNE—B

[_]

a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 29. b. Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 93, 1802, from William Tytler's Brown MS., No 9, “with corrections from a recited fragment.”

1

‘Come here, come here, you freely feed,
An lay your head low on my knee;
The hardest weird I will you read
That eer war read to a lady.

2

‘O meikle dollour sall you dree,
An ay the sat seas oer ye ['s] swim;
An far mair dollour sall ye dree
On Eastmuir craigs, or ye them clim.

3

‘I wot ye's be a weary wight,
An releived sall ye never be
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig and thrice kiss thee.’

310

4

O meickle dollour did she dree,
An ay the sat seas oer she swam;
An far mair dollour did she dree
On Eastmuir craigs, or them she clam;
An ay she cried for Kempion,
Gin he would come till her han.

5

Now word has gane to Kempion
That sich a beast was in his lan,
An ay be sure she would gae mad
Gin she gat nae help frae his han.

6

‘Now by my sooth,’ says Kempion,
‘This fiery beast I['ll] gang to see;’
‘An by my sooth,’ says Segramour,
‘My ae brother, I'll gang you wi.’

7

O biggit ha they a bonny boat,
An they hae set her to the sea,
An Kempion an Segramour
The fiery beast ha gane to see:
A mile afore they reachd the shore,
I wot she gard the red fire flee.

8

‘O Segramour, keep my boat afloat,
An lat her no the lan so near;
For the wicked beast she'll sure gae mad,
An set fire to the land an mair.’

9

‘O out o my stye I winna rise —
An it is na for the fear o thee —
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’

10

He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses ane;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fieryest beast that ever was seen.

11

‘O out o my stye I winna rise —
An it is na for fear o thee —
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’

12

He louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses twa;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fieryest beast that ever you saw.

13

‘O out o my stye I winna rise —
An it is na for fear o ye—
Till Kempion, the kingis son,
Come to the craig an thrice kiss me.’

14

He's louted him oer the Eastmuir craig,
An he has gien her kisses three;
Awa she gid, an again she came,
The fairest lady that ever coud be.

15

‘An by my sooth,’ say[s] Kempion,
‘My ain true love — for this is she —
O was it wolf into the wood,
Or was it fish intill the sea,
Or was it man, or wile woman,
My true love, that misshapit thee?’

16

‘It was na wolf into the wood,
Nor was it fish into the sea,
But it was my stepmother,
An wae an weary mot she be.

17

‘O a heavier weird light her upon
Than ever fell on wile woman;
Her hair's grow rough, an her teeth's grow lang,
An on her four feet sal she gang.

18

‘Nane sall tack pitty her upon,
But in Wormie's Wood she sall ay won,
An relieved sall she never be,
Till St Mungo come oer the sea.’

313

35
ALLISON GROSS

Allison Gross

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 40.

314

1

O Allison Gross, that lives in yon towr,
The ugliest witch i the north country,
Has trysted me ae day up till her bowr,
An monny fair speech she made to me.

2

She stroaked my head, an she kembed my hair,
An she set me down saftly on her knee;
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,
Sae monny braw things as I woud you gi.

3

She showd me a mantle o red scarlet,
Wi gouden flowrs an fringes fine;
Says, Gin ye will be my lemman so true,
This goodly gift it sal be thine.

4

‘Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Haud far awa, an lat me be;
I never will be your lemman sae true,
An I wish I were out o your company.’

5

She neist brought a sark o the saftest silk,
Well wrought wi pearles about the ban;
Says, Gin you will be my ain true love,
This goodly gift you sal comman.

6

She showd me a cup of the good red gold,
Well set wi jewls sae fair to see;
Says, Gin you will be my lemman sae true,
This goodly gift I will you gi.

315

7

‘Awa, awa, ye ugly witch,
Had far awa, and lat me be;
For I woudna ance kiss your ugly mouth
For a' the gifts that ye coud gi.’

8

She's turnd her right and roun about,
An thrice she blaw on a grass-green horn,
An she sware by the meen and the stars abeen,
That she'd gar me rue the day I was born.

9

Then out has she taen a silver wand,
An she's turnd her three times roun an roun;
She's mutterd sich words till my strength it faild,
An I fell down senceless upon the groun.

10

She's turnd me into an ugly worm,
And gard me toddle about the tree;
An ay, on ilka Saturdays night,
My sister Maisry came to me,

11

Wi silver bason an silver kemb,
To kemb my heady upon her knee;
But or I had kissd her ugly mouth,
I'd rather a toddled about the tree.

12

But as it fell out on last Hallow-even,
When the seely court was ridin by,
The queen lighted down on a gowany bank,
Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye.

13

She took me up in her milk-white han,
An she's stroakd me three times oer her knee;
She chang'd me again to my ain proper shape,
An I nae mair maun toddle about the tree.

36
THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA

THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA—A

[_]

Though Skene has rendered this ballad with reasonable fidelity, for an editor, it shall, on account of its interest, be given as it stands in the old lady's MS., where it is No 2.

1

‘I was bat seven year alld
Fan my mider she did dee,
My father marrëd the ae warst woman
The wardle did ever see.

2

‘For she has made me the lailly worm
That lays att the fitt of the tree,
An o my sister Meassry
The machrel of the sea.

3

‘An every Saterday att noon
The machrl comes ea to me,
An she takes my laylë head,
An lays it on her knee,
An keames it we a silver kemm,
An washes it in the sea.

4

‘Seven knights ha I slain
Sane I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight an ye sud be.’

5

‘Sing on your song, ye l[a]ily worm,
That ye sung to me;’
‘I never sung that song
But fatt I wad sing to ye.

6

‘I was but seven year aull
Fan my mider she [did] dee,
My father marrëd the a warst woman
The wardle did ever see.

7

‘She changed me to the layel[y] worm
That layes att the fitt of the tree,
An my sister Messry
[To] the makrell of the sea.

8

‘And every Saterday att noon
The machrell comes to me,
An she takes my layly head,
An layes it on her knee,
An kames it weth a siller kame,
An washes it in the sea.

9

‘Seven knights ha I slain
San I lay att the fitt of the tree;
An ye war na my ain father,
The eight ye sud be.’

10

He sent for his lady
As fast as sen cod he:
‘Far is my son,
That ye sent fra me,
And my daughter,
Lady Messry?’

11

‘Yer son is att our king's court,
Sarving for meatt an fee,
And yer doughter is att our quin's court,
A mary suit an free.’

12

‘Ye lee, ye ill woman,
Sa loud as I hear ye lea,
For my son is the layelly worm
That lays at the fitt of the tree,
An my daughter Messry
The machrell of the sea.’

13

She has tain a silver wan
An gine him stroks three,
An he started up the bravest knight
Your eyes did ever see.

14

She has tane a small horn
An loud an shill blue she,
An a' the came her tell but the proud machrell,
An she stood by the sea:
‘Ye shaped me ance an unshemly shape,
An ye's never mare shape me.’

15

He has sent to the wood
For hathorn an fun,
An he has tane that gay lady,
An ther he did her burne.

The Hagg Worm

THE LAILY WORM AND THE MACHREL OF THE SEA—B

[_]

Obtained from an old woman by Captain E. Grow.

1

Bambrough Castle's a bonny place,
Built on a marble stone,
But long, long did the lady look
Eer her father came home.

2

She knotted the keys upon a string,
And with her she has them taen;
She cast them oer her left shoulder,
And to the gates she is gaen.

3

It fell out on a day the king
Brought his new lady home,
And all the lordling[s] in his realm
To welcome them did come.

4

‘You'r welcome, father,’ the lady cries,
‘To your halls and your towers,
And so are you, good queen,’ said she,
‘For all that's here is yours.’

5

‘O who is this,’ said the queen,
‘That welcomes me so high?’
Up then spake a greyhaird man,
An ill dead may he dee!
'Tis the kinges aie daughter,
The flower of the North Country.

6

‘O woe betyde the[e], greyhaired man,
An ill dead may thou dee!
Had she been fairer then she is,
You might have excepted me.

7

‘I'll liken her to a laidley worm,
That warps about the stone,
And not till Child of Wynd comes back
Shall she again be wonne.’

8

The lady stood at her bower-door,
A loud laughter took she:
‘I hope your prayers will have no pith;
You took not God with ye.’

9

She calld on her waiting-maid—
They calld her Dorothy—
‘The coffer that my gold lies in,
I leave to thee the key.

10

‘Her hellish spells seize on my heart,
And quick will alter me;
For eer the seting sun is down
A laidler worm I'll be.’

11

Word's gone east, and word's gone west,
And word's gone oer the sea,
There's a laidler worm in Spindlestone Heughs
Will destroy the North Countree.

12

For seven miles east and seven miles west,
And seven miles north and south,
Nea blade of grass or corn will grow,
For the venom of her mouth.

13

To this day may be seen the cave
This monsterous worm embowered,
And the stone trough where seven cows' milk
She every day devoured.

14

Word's gone east and word's gone west,
Word oer the sea did go;

The Child of Wynd got wit of it,
Which filld his heart with woe.

15

‘I have no sister but barely one,
I fear fair Margery!
I wish I was at Spindlestone Heughs,
This laidler worm to see.’

16

Up then spoke his eldest brother,
An angry man was he:
O thou art young, far over young,
To sail the stormy sea.

17

‘Peace, brother,’ said the Child of Wynd,
‘Dear brother, let me be;
For when we come to danger dire,
I must fight when you will flee.

18

‘O let us build a bonny ship,
And set her in the sea;
The sails shall be of silken twine,
The masts of rowon-tree.’

19

They built a ship, the wind and tyde
Drave them along the deep;
At last they saw a stately tower,
On the rock high and steep.

20

The sea was smooth, the sky was clear;
As they approached nigher,
King Ida's castle well they knew,
And the banks of Balmburghshire.

21

The queen lookd thro her bower-window,
To see what she coud see,
And she espied a gallant ship
Come sailing along the sea.

22

She calld on her witch-women
To sink them in the main;
They hoisted up their silken sails,
And to Warren bridge they gane.

23

The worm lept up, the worm lept down,
She plaited round the stane,
And as the ship came to the land
She banged them off again.

24

The Child leapd in the shallow water
That flows oer Budle sand,
And when he drew his berry-brown sword
She suffered them to land.

25

When they came to Bamburg castle
They tirled at the ring;
‘Who's that,’ said the proud porter,
‘That woud so fain be in?’

26

‘'Tis the king's son and Child of Wynd,
Who have long been oer the sea;
We come to see our sister dear,
The peirless Margery.’

27

‘Heigh a ween, and Oh a ween!
A ween, a woe-ses me!
She's a laidler worm at Spindlestone Heughs,
These seven years and three.’

28

They highed them stright to Spindleston Heughs—
Grief added to their speed—
Where out she came a laidler worm,
And strack their hearts with dread.

29

The Child drew out his berry-brown sword,
And waved it oer her head,
And cried, If thou [OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

30

‘O quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
For if I am not wonne eer the sun goes down,
Wonne will I never be.’

31

He quit his sword, he bent his bow,
He gave her kisses three;
She threw out her fireballs,
And fiercely made them flee.

32

In she went, and out she came,
A laidley ask was she:
‘Oh, tho I am a laidley ask,
No harm I'll do to thee.

33

‘Oh quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
For if I am not wonne eer the sun goes down,
Wonne will I never be.’

34

He quit his sword, he bent his bow,
And gave her kisses three;
But she threw out her fireballs,
And fiercely made them flee.

35

In she went, and out she came,
A laidley adder was she;
[‘Oh, tho I am a laidley adder,
No harm I'll do to thee.]

36

‘Oh quit thy sword, and bend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
[For if I am not wonne eer the sun goes down,
Wonne will I never be.’]

37

He quit his sword, he bent his bow,
He gave her kisses three;
She crept into the cave a snake,
But stept out a lady.

38

‘O quit thy sword, unbend thy bow,
And give me kisses three;
For tho I am a lady fair,
I am [OMITTED] to modesty.’

39

He took his mantle from his back,
And wrapd his sister in,
And thei'r away to Bamburg Castle,
As fast as they coud winne.

40

His absence and her reptile form
The king had long deplored,
But now rejoiced to see them both
Again to him restored.

41

The queen he sought, who when he found
All quailed and sore affraid,
Because she knew her power must yield
To Child of Wynd, who said:

42

‘O woe be to the[e], wicked woman,
An ill deed may thou dee!
As thou my sister likened,
So likened thou shalt be.

43

‘I change thy body to a toad,
That on the earth doth wend,
And wonne, wonne shalt thou never be
Untill the world doth end!’

44

Now on the ground, near Ida's tower,
She crawls a loathsome toad,
And venom spits on every maid
She meets upon the road.

317

37
THOMAS RYMER

323

Thomas Rymer and Queen of Elfland

THOMAS RYMER—A

[_]

Alexander Fraser Tytler's Brown MS., No 1: Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 7.

1

True Thomas lay oer yond grassy bank,
And he beheld a ladie gay,
A ladie that was brisk and bold,
Come riding oer the fernie brae.

2

Her skirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantel of the velvet fine,
At ilka tett of her horse's mane
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

3

True Thomas he took off his hat,
And bowed him low down till his knee:
‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For your peer on earth I never did see.’

4

‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,
‘That name does not belong to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
And I'm come here for to visit thee.

[OMITTED]

5

‘But ye maun go wi me now, Thomas,
True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
For ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro weel or wae as may chance to be.’

6

She turned about her milk-white steed,
And took True Thomas up behind,

324

And aye wheneer her bridle rang,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

7

For forty days and forty nights
He wade thro red blude to the knee,
And he saw neither sun nor moon,
But heard the roaring of the sea.

8

O they rade on, and further on,
Until they came to a garden green:
‘Light down, light down, ye ladie free,
Some of that fruit let me pull to thee.’

9

‘O no, O no, True Thomas,’ she says,
‘That fruit maun not be touched by thee,
For a' the plagues that are in hell
Light on the fruit of this countrie.

10

‘But I have a loaf here in my lap,
Likewise a bottle of claret wine,
And now ere we go farther on,
We'll rest a while, and ye may dine.’

11

When he had eaten and drunk his fill,
‘Lay down your head upon my knee,’
The lady sayd, ‘ere we climb yon hill,
And I will show you fairlies three.

12

‘O see not ye yon narrow road,
So thick beset wi thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.

13

‘And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across yon lillie leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho some call it the road to heaven.

14

‘And see not ye that bonny road,
Which winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Whe[re] you and I this night maun gae.

15

‘But Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see,
For gin ae word you should chance to speak,
You will neer get back to your ain countrie.’

16

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were past and gone
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

Thomas the Rhymer

THOMAS RYMER—B

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 83.

1

As Thomas lay on Huntlie banks—
A wat a weel bred man was he—
And there he spied a lady fair,
Coming riding down by the Eildon tree.

2

The horse she rode on was dapple gray,
And in her hand she held bells nine;
I thought I heard this fair lady say
These fair siller bells they should a' be mine.

3

It's Thomas even forward went,
And lootit low down on his knee:
‘Weel met thee save, my lady fair,
For thou'rt the flower o this countrie.’

4

‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she says,
‘O no, O no, that can never be,
For I'm but a lady of an unco land,
Comd out a hunting, as ye may see.

5

‘O harp and carp, Thomas,’ she says,
‘O harp and carp, and go wi me;
It's be seven years, Thomas, and a day,
Or you see man or woman in your ain countrie.’

6

It's she has rode, and Thomas ran,
Until they cam to yon water clear;
He's coosten off his hose and shon,
And he's wooden the water up to the knee.

7

It's she has rode, and Thomas ran,
Until they cam to yon garden green;
He's put up his hand for to pull down ane,
For the lack o food he was like to tyne.

8

‘Hold your hand, Thomas,’ she says,
‘Hold your hand, that must not be;
It was a' that cursed fruit o thine
Beggared man and woman in your countrie.

9

‘But I have a loaf and a soup o wine,
And ye shall go and dine wi me;

325

And lay yer head down in my lap,
And I will tell ye farlies three.

10

‘It's dont ye see yon broad broad way,
That leadeth down by yon skerry fell?
It's ill's the man that dothe thereon gang,
For it leadeth him straight to the gates o hell.

11

‘It's dont ye see yon narrow way,
That leadeth down by yon lillie lea?
It's weel's the man that doth therein gang,
For it leads him straight to the heaven hie.’

[OMITTED]

12

It's when she cam into the hall—
I wat a weel bred man was he—
They've asked him question[s], one and all,
But he answered none but that fair ladie.

13

O they speerd at her where she did him get,
And she told them at the Eildon tree;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

Thomas the Rhymer

THOMAS RYMER—C

[_]

Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 251, ed. 1802.

1

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,
A ferlie he spied wi' his ee,
And there he saw a lady bright,
Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

2

Her shirt was o the grass-green silk,
Her mantle o the velvet fyne,
At ilka tett of her horse's mane
Hang fifty siller bells and nine.

3

True Thomas, he pulld aff his cap,
And louted low down to his knee:
‘All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For thy peer on earth I never did see.’

4

‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said,
‘That name does not belang to me;
I am but the queen of fair Elfland,
That am hither come to visit thee.

5

‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said,
‘Harp and carp along wi me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your bodie I will be.’

6

‘Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That weird shall never daunton me;’
Syne he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.

7

‘Now, ye maun go wi me,’ she said,
‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi me,
And ye maun serve me seven years,
Thro weal or woe, as may chance to be.’

8

She mounted on her milk-white steed,
She's taen True Thomas up behind,
And aye wheneer her bridle rung,
The steed flew swifter than the wind.

9

O they rade on, and farther on—
The steed gaed swifter than the wind—
Untill they reached a desart wide,
And living land was left behind.

10

‘Light down, light down, now, True Thomas,
And lean your head upon my knee;
Abide and rest a little space,
And I will shew you ferlies three.

11

‘O see ye not yon narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briers?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.

12

‘And see not ye that braid braid road,
That lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho some call it the road to heaven.

13

‘And see not ye that bonny road,
That winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where thou and I this night maun gae.

14

‘But, Thomas, ye maun hold your tongue,
Whatever ye may hear or see,
For, if you speak word in Elflyn land,
Ye'll neer get back to your ain countrie.’

15

O they rade on, and farther on,
And they waded thro rivers aboon the knee,

326

And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the roaring of the sea.

16

It was mirk mirk night, and there was nae stern light,
And they waded thro red blude to the knee;
For a' the blude that's shed on earth
Rins thro the springs o that countrie.

17

Syne they came on to a garden green,
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree:
‘Take this for thy wages, True Thomas,
It will give the tongue that can never lie.’

18

‘My tongue is mine ain,’ True Thomas said;
‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!
I neither dought to buy nor sell,
At fair or tryst where I may be.

19

‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer,
Nor ask of grace from fair ladye:’
‘Now hold thy peace,’ the lady said,
‘For as I say, so must it be.’

20

He has gotten a coat of the even cloth,
And a pair of shoes of velvet green,
And till seven years were gane and past
True Thomas on earth was never seen.

329

38
THE WEE WEE MAN

330

The Wee Wee Man

THE WEE WEE MAN—A

[_]

Herd's MSS, I, 153, Herd's Ancient and Modern Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 95.

1

As I was wa'king all alone,
Between a water and a wa,
And there I spy'd a wee wee man,
And he was the least that ere I saw.

2

His legs were scarce a shathmont's length,
And thick and thimber was his thigh;
Between his brows there was a span,
And between his shoulders there was three.

3

He took up a meikle stane,
And he flang't as far as I could see;
Though I had been a Wallace wight,
I couldna liften't to my knee.

4

‘O wee wee man, but thou be strang!
O tell me where thy dwelling be?’
‘My dwelling's down at yon bonny bower;
O will you go with me and see?’

5

On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny green;
We lighted down for to bait our horse,
And out there came a lady fine.

6

Four and twenty at her back,
And they were a' clad out in green;
Though the King of Scotland had been there,
The warst o them might hae been his queen.

7

On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we came to yon bonny ha,
Whare the roof was o the beaten gould,
And the floor was o the cristal a'.

8

When we came to the stair-foot,
Ladies were dancing, jimp and sma,
But in the twinkling of an eye,
My wee wee man was clean awa.

THE WEE WEE MAN—B

[_]

Caw's Poetical Museum, p. 348.

1

As I was walking by my lane,
Atween a water and a wa,
There sune I spied a wee wee man,
He was the least that eir I saw.

2

His legs were scant a shathmont's length,
And sma and limber was his thie;
Atween his shoulders was ae span,
About his middle war but three.

3

He has tane up a meikle stane,
And flang't as far as I cold see;
Ein thouch I had been Wallace wicht,
I dought na lift it to my knie.

4

‘O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
Tell me whar may thy dwelling be?
‘I dwell beneth that bonnie bouir;
O will ye gae wi me and see?’

5

On we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we cam to a bonny green;
We lichted syne to bait our steid,
And out there cam a lady sheen.

6

Wi four and twentie at her back,
A' comely cled in glistering green;
Thouch there the King of Scots had stude,
The warst micht weil hae been his queen.

7

On syne we past wi wondering cheir,
Till we cam to a bonny ha;

331

The roof was o the beaten gowd,
The flure was o the crystal a'.

8

When we cam there, wi wee wee knichts
War ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
But in the twinkling of an eie,
Baith green and ha war clein awa.

The Wee Wee Man

THE WEE WEE MAN—C

[_]

Scott's Minstrelsy, II, 234, ed. 1802, incorporated with ‘The Young Tamlane.’ From recitation.

1

'Twas down by Carterhaugh, father,
I walked beside the wa,
And there I saw a wee wee man,
The least that eer I saw.

2

His legs were skant a shathmont lang,
Yet umber was his thie;
Between his brows there was ae span,
And between his shoulders three.

3

He's taen and flung a meikle stane,
As far as I could see;
I could na, had I been Wallace wight,
Hae lifted it to my knee.

4

‘O wee wee man, but ye be strang!
Where may thy dwelling be?’
‘It's down beside yon bonny bower;
Fair lady, come and see.’

5

On we lap, and away we rade,
Down to a bonny green;
We lighted down to bait our steed,
And we saw the fairy queen.

6

With four and twenty at her back,
Of ladies clad in green;
Tho the King of Scotland had been there,
The worst might hae been his queen.

7

On we lap, and away we rade,
Down to a bonny ha;
The roof was o the beaten goud,
The floor was of chrystal a'.

8

And there were dancing on the floor,
Fair ladies jimp and sma;
But in the twinkling o an eye,
They sainted clean awa.

The Wee Wee Man

THE WEE WEE MAN—D

[_]

Kinloch MSS, VII, 253. From Mrs Elder.

1

As I gaed out to tak a walk,
Atween the water and the wa,
There I met wi a wee wee man,
The weest man that ere I saw.

2

Thick and short was his legs,
And sma and thin was his thie,
And atween his een a flee might gae,
And atween his shouthers were inches three.

3

And he has tane up a muckle stane,
And thrown it farther than I coud see;
If I had been as strong as ere Wallace was,
I coud na lift it to my knie.

4

‘O,’ quo I, ‘but ye be strong!
And O where may your dwelling be?’
‘It's down in to yon bonnie glen;
Gin ye dinna believe, ye can come and see.’

5

And we rade on, and we sped on,
Till we cam to yon bonny glen,
And there we lichted and louted in,
And there we saw a dainty dame.

6

There was four and twenty wating on her,
And ilka ane was clad in green,
And he had been the king of fair Scotland,
The warst o them micht hae been his queen.

7

There war pipers playing on ilka stair,
And ladies dancing in ilka ha,
But before ye coud hae sadd what was that,
The house and wee manie was awa.

332

The Wee Wee Man

THE WEE WEE MAN—E

[_]

a. Motherwell's Note-Book, fol. 40, “from Agnes Lyle;” Motherwell's MS., p. 195, “from the recitation of Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan.” b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 343.

1

As I was walking mine alone,
Betwext the water and the wa,
There I spied a wee wee man,
He was the least ane that eer I saw.

2

His leg was scarse a shaftmont lang,
Both thick and nimble was his knee;
Between his eyes there was a span,
Betwixt his shoulders were ells three.

3

This wee wee man pulled up a stone,
He flang't as far as I could see;
Tho I had been like Wallace strong,
I wadna gotn't up to my knee.

4

I said, Wee man, oh, but you're strong!
Where is your dwelling, or where may't be?
‘My dwelling's at yon bonnie green;
Fair lady, will ye go and see?’

5

On we lap, and awa we rade,
Until we came to yonder green;
We lichtit down to rest our steed,
And there cam out a lady soon.

6

Four and twenty at her back,
And every one of them was clad in green;
Altho he had been the King of Scotland,
The warst o them a' micht hae been his queen.

7

There were pipers playing in every neuk,
And ladies dancing, jimp and sma,
And aye the owre-turn o their tune
Was ‘Our wee wee man has been lang awa.’

The Wee Wee Man

THE WEE WEE MAN—F

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 68, “from the recitation of Mrs Wilson, of the Renfrewshire Tontine; now of the Caledonian Hotel, Inverness.”

1

As I was walking mine alane,
Between the water and the wa,
And oh there I spy'd a wee wee mannie,
The weeest mannie that ere I saw.

2

His legs they were na a gude inch lang,
And thick and nimble was his thie;
Between his een there was a span,
And between his shouthers there were ells three.

3

I asked at this wee wee mannie
Whare his dwelling place might be;
The answer that he gied to me
Was, Cum alang, and ye shall see.

4

So we'll awa, and on we rade,
Till we cam to yon bonnie green;
We lichted down to bait our horse,
And up and started a lady syne.

5

Wi four and twenty at her back,
And they were a' weell clad in green;
Tho I had been a crowned king,
The warst o them might ha been my queen.

6

So we'll awa, and on we rade,
Till we cam to yon bonnie hall;
The rafters were o the beaten gold,
And silver wire were the kebars all.

7

And there was mirth in every end,
And ladies dancing, ane and a,
And aye the owre-turn o their sang
Was ‘The wee wee mannie's been lang awa.’

The Little Man

THE WEE WEE MAN—G

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 263.

1

As I gaed out to tak the air,
Between Midmar and bonny Craigha,
There I met a little wee man,
The less o him I never saw.

2

His legs were but a finger lang,
And thick and nimle was his knee;
Between his brows there was a span,
Between his shoulders ells three.

3

He lifted a stane sax feet in hight,
He lifted it up till his right knee,
And fifty yards and mair, I'm sure,
I wyte he made the stane to flee.

333

4

‘O little wee man, but ye be wight!
Tell me whar your dwelling be;’
‘I hae a bower, compactly built,
Madam, gin ye'll cum and see.’

5

Sae on we lap, and awa we rade,
Till we come to yon little ha;
The kipples ware o the gude red gowd,
The reef was o the proseyla.

6

Pipers were playing, ladies dancing,
The ladies dancing, jimp and sma;
At ilka turning o the spring,
The little man was wearin's wa.

7

Out gat the lights, on cam the mist,
Ladies nor mannie mair coud see
I turnd about, and gae a look,
Just at the foot o' Benachie.

335

39
TAM LIN

340

Tam Lin

TAM LIN—A

[_]

Johnson's Museum, p. 423, No 411. Communicated by Robert Burns.

1

O I forbid you, maidens a',
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lin is there.

2

There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But they leave him a wad,
Either their rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenhead.

341

3

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has broded her yellow hair
A little aboon her knee,
And she's awa to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

4

When she came to Carterhaugh
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsel.

5

She had na pu'd a double rose,
A rose but only twa,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Says, Lady, thou's pu nae mae.

6

Why pu's thou the rose, Janet,
And why breaks thou the wand?
Or why comes thou to Carterhaugh
Withoutten my command?

7

‘Carterhaugh, it is my ain,
My daddie gave it me;
I'll come and gang by Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave at thee.’

[OMITTED]

8

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she is to her father's ha,
As fast as she can hie.

9

Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba,
And out then cam the fair Janet,
Ance the flower amang them a'.

10

Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess,
And out then cam the fair Janet,
As green as onie glass.

11

Out then spak an auld grey knight,
Lay oer the castle wa,
And says, Alas, fair Janet, for thee
But we'll be blamed a'.

12

‘Haud your tongue, ye auld fac'd knight,
Some ill death may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I'll father nane on thee.’

13

Out then spak her father dear,
And he spak meek and mild;
‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,
‘I think thou gaes wi child.’

14

‘If that I gae wi child, father,
Mysel maun bear the blame;
There's neer a laird about your ha
Shall get the bairn's name.

15

‘If my love were an earthly knight,
As he's an elfin grey,
I wad na gie my ain true-love
For nae lord that ye hae.

16

‘The steed that my true-love rides on
Is lighter than the wind;
Wi siller he is shod before,
Wi burning gowd behind.’

17

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she's awa to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

18

When she cam to Carterhaugh,
Tam Lin was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsel.

19

She had na pu'd a double rose,
A rose but only twa,
Till up then started young Tam Lin,
Says Lady, thou pu's nae mae.

20

Why pu's thou the rose, Janet,
Amang the groves sae green,
And a' to kill the bonie babe
That we gat us between?

21

‘O tell me, tell me, Tam Lin,’ she says,
‘For's sake that died on tree,
If eer ye was in holy chapel,
Or christendom did see?’

22

‘Roxbrugh he was my grandfather,
Took me with him to bide,

342

And ance it fell upon a day
That wae did me betide.

23

‘And ance it fell upon a day,
A cauld day and a snell,
When we were frae the hunting come,
That frae my horse I fell;
The Queen o Fairies she caught me,
In yon green hill to dwell.

24

‘And pleasant is the fairy land,
But, an eerie tale to tell,
Ay at the end of seven years
We pay a tiend to hell;
I am sae fair and fu o flesh,
I'm feard it be mysel.

25

‘But the night is Halloween, lady,
The morn is Hallowday;
Then win me, win me, an ye will,
For weel I wat ye may.

26

‘Just at the mirk and midnight hour
The fairy folk will ride,
And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.’

27

‘But how shall I thee ken, Tam Lin,
Or how my true-love know,
Amang sae mony unco knights
The like I never saw?’

28

‘O first let pass the black, lady,
And syne let pass the brown,
But quickly run to the milk-white steed,
Pu ye his rider down.

29

‘For I'll ride on the milk-white steed,
And ay nearest the town;
Because I was an earthly knight
They gie me that renown.

30

‘My right hand will be glovd, lady,
My left hand will be bare,
Cockt up shall my bonnet be,
And kaimd down shall my hair,
And thae's the takens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there.

31

‘They'll turn me in your arms, lady,
Into an esk and adder;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I am your bairn's father.

32

‘They'll turn me to a bear sae grim,
And then a lion bold;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
As ye shall love your child.

33

‘Again they'll turn me in your arms
To a red het gaud of airn;
But hold me fast, and fear me not,
I'll do to you nae harm.

34

‘And last they'll turn me in your arms
Into the burning gleed;
Then throw me into well water,
O throw me in wi speed.

35

‘And then I'll be your ain true-love,
I'll turn a naked knight;
Then cover me wi your green mantle,
And cover me out o sight.’

36

Gloomy, gloomy was the night,
And eerie was the way,
As fair Jenny in her green mantle
To Miles Cross she did gae.

37

About the middle o the night
She heard the bridles ring;
This lady was as glad at that
As any earthly thing.

38

First she let the black pass by,
And syne she let the brown;
But quickly she ran to the milk-white steed,
And pu'd the rider down.

39

Sae weel she minded whae he did say,
And young Tam Lin did win;
Syne coverd him wi her green mantle,
As blythe's a bird in spring.

40

Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
Out of a bush o broom:
‘Them that has gotten young Tam Lin
Has gotten a stately groom.’

41

Out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
And an angry woman was she:
‘Shame betide her ill-far'd face,
And an ill death may she die,
For she's taen awa the boniest knight
In a' my companie.

343

42

‘But had I kend, Tam Lin,’ she says,
‘What now this night I see,
I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,
And put in twa een o tree.’

Young Tom Line

TAM LIN—B

[_]

Glenriddell's MSS, vol. xi, No 17.

1

I forbid ye, maidens a',
That wear goud on your gear,
To come and gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tom Line is there.

2

There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But they leave him a wad,
Either their things or green mantles,
Or else their maidenhead.

3

But Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little above her knee,
And she has broded her yellow hair
A little above her bree,
And she has gaen for Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

4

When she came to Carterhaugh
Tom Line was at the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsell.

5

She hadna pu'd a double rose,
A rose but only twae,
Till up then started young Tom Line,
Says, Lady, thou's pu nae mae.

6

Why pu's thou the rose, Janet?
Why breaks thou the wand?
Why comest thou to Carterhaugh
Withouthen my command?

7

‘Fair Carterhaugh it is my ain,
My daddy gave it me;
I'll come and gae by Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave at thee.’

[OMITTED]

8

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she is on to her father's ha,
As fast as she can hie.

9

Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba,
And out then came fair Janet,
The flowr amang them a'.

10

Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess,
Out then came fair Janet,
As green as ony glass.

11

Out spak an auld grey-headed knight,
Lay owre the castle wa,
And says, Alas, fair Janet,
For thee we'll be blam'd a'.

12

‘Had your tongue, you auld grey knight,
Some ill dead may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I'll father nane on thee.’

13

Out then spak her father dear,
He spak baith thick and milde;
‘And ever alas, sweet Janet,’ he says,
‘I think ye gae wi childe.’

14

‘If that I gae wi child, father,
Mysell bears a' the blame;
There's not a laird about your ha
Shall get the bairnie's name.

15

‘If my lord were an earthly knight,
As he's an elfish grey,
I wad na gie my ain true-love
For nae lord that ye hae.’

16

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she's away to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can hie.

17

When she came to Carterhaugh,
Tom Line was at the well,
And there she faund his steed standing,
But away was himsell.

18

She hadna pu'd a double rose,
A rose but only twae,

344

Till up then started young Tom Line,
Says, Lady, thou's pu na mae.

19

Why pu's thou the rose, Janet,
Out owr yon groves sae green,
And a' to kill your bonny babe,
That we gat us between?

20

‘O tell me, tell me, Tom,’ she says,
‘For's sake who died on tree,
If eer ye were in holy chapel,
Or christendom did see.’

21

‘Roxburgh he was my grandfather,
Took me with him to bide,
And ance it fell upon a day
That wae did me betide.

22

‘Ance it fell upon a day,
A cauld day and a snell,
When we were frae the hunting come,
That from my horse I fell.

23

‘The Queen of Fairies she came by,
Took me wi her to dwell,
Evn where she has a pleasant land
For those that in it dwell,
But at the end o seven years,
They pay their teind to hell.

24

‘The night it is gude Halloween,
The fairie folk do ride,
And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.’

25

‘But how shall I thee ken, Thomas,
Or how shall I thee knaw,
Amang a pack o uncouth knights
The like I never saw?’

26

‘The first company that passes by,
Say na, and let them gae;
The next company that passes by,
Say na, and do right sae;
The third company that passes by,
Then I'll be ane o thae.

27

‘Some ride upon a black, lady,
And some ride on a brown,
But I ride on a milk-white steed,
And ay nearest the town:
Because I was an earthly knight
They gae me that renown.

28

‘My right hand will be glovd, lady,
My left hand will be bare,
And thae's the tokens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there.

29

‘Then hie thee to the milk-white steed,
And pu me quickly down,
Cast thy green kirtle owr me,
And keep me frae the rain.

30

‘They'll turn me in thy arms, lady,
An adder and a snake;
But hold me fast, let me na gae,
To be your warldly mate.

31

‘They'll turn me in your arms, lady,
A grey greyhound to girn;
But hald me fast, let me na gae,
The father o your bairn.

32

‘They'll turn me in your arms, lady,
A red het gad o iron;
Then haud me fast, and be na feard,
I'll do to you nae harm.

33

‘They'll turn me in your arms, lady,
A mother-naked man;
Cast your green kirtle owr me,
To keep me frae the rain.

34

‘First dip me in a stand o milk,
And then a stand o water;
Haud me fast, let me na gae,
I'll be your bairnie's father.’

35

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little aboon her knee,
And she has snooded her yellow hair
A little aboon her bree,
And she is on to Miles Cross,
As fast as she can hie.

36

The first company that passd by,
She said na, and let them gae;
The next company that passed by,
She said na, and did right sae;
The third company that passed by,
Then he was ane o thae.

37

She hied her to the milk-white steed,
And pu'd him quickly down;
She cast her green kirtle owr him,
To keep him frae the rain;

345

Then she did all was orderd her,
And sae recoverd him.

38

Then out then spak the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush o broom:
‘They that hae gotten young Tom Line
Hae got a stately groom.’

39

Out than spak the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush of rye:
‘Them that has gotten young Tom Line
Has the best knight in my company.

40

‘Had I kend, Thomas,’ she says,
‘A lady wad hae borrowd thee,
I wad hae taen out thy twa grey een,
Put in twa een o tree.

41

‘Had I but kend, Thomas,’ she says,
‘Before I came frae hame,
I had taen out that heart o flesh,
Put in a heart o stane.’

Kertonha; or, The Fairy Court

TAM LIN—C

[_]

Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 300.

[OMITTED]

1

She's prickt hersell and prind hersell,
By the ae light o the moon,
And she's awa to Kertonha,
As fast as she can gang.

2

‘What gars ye pu the rose, Jennet?
What gars ye break the tree?
What gars you gang to Kertonha
Without the leave of me?’

3

‘Yes, I will pu the rose, Thomas,
And I will break the tree;
For Kertonha shoud be my ain,
Nor ask I leave of thee.’

4

‘Full pleasant is the fairy land,
And happy there to dwell;
I am a fairy, lyth and limb,
Fair maiden, view me well.

5

‘O pleasant is the fairy land,
How happy there to dwell!
But ay at every seven years end
We're a' dung down to hell.

6

‘The morn is good Halloween,
And our court a' will ride;
If ony maiden wins her man,
Then she may be his bride.

7

‘But first ye'll let the black gae by,
And then ye'll let the brown;
Then I'll ride on a milk-white steed,
You'll pu me to the ground.

8

‘And first, I'll grow into your arms
An esk but and an edder;
Had me fast, let me not gang,
I'll be your bairn's father.

9

‘Next, I'll grow into your arms
A toad but and an eel;
Had me fast, let me not gang,
If you do love me leel.

10

‘Last, I'll grow into your arms
A dove but and a swan;
Then, maiden fair, you'll let me go,
I'll be a perfect man.’

[OMITTED]

Tom Linn; or, Tom o Linn

TAM LIN—D

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 532, a North Country version. b. Maidment's New Book of Old Ballads, 1844, p. 54, from the recitation of an old woman. c. Pitcairn's MSS, 1817-25, III, p. 67: “procured by David Webster, Bookseller, from tradition.”

1

O all you ladies young and gay,
Who are so sweet and fair,
Do not go into Chaster's wood,
For Tomlin will be there.

2

Fair Margret sat in her bonny bower,
Sewing her silken seam,
And wished to be in Chaster's wood,
Among the leaves so green.

346

3

She let her seam fall to her foot,
The needle to her toe,
And she has gone to Chaster's wood,
As fast as she could go.

4

When she began to pull the flowers,
She pulld both red and green;
Then by did come, and by did go,
Said, Fair maid, let aleene.

5

‘O why pluck you the flowers, lady,
Or why climb you the tree?
Or why come ye to Chaster's wood
Without the leave of me?’

6

‘O I will pull the flowers,’ she said,
‘Or I will break the tree,
For Chaster's wood it is my own,
I'll no ask leave at thee.’

7

He took her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass green sleeve,
And laid her low down on the flowers,
At her he asked no leave.

8

The lady blushed, and sourly frowned,
And she did think great shame;
Says, ‘If you are a gentleman,
You will tell me your name.’

9

‘First they did call me Jack,’ he said,
‘And then they called me John,
But since I lived in the fairy court
Tomlin has always been my name.

10

‘So do not pluck that flower, lady,
That has these pimples gray;
They would destroy the bonny babe
That we've got in our play.’

11

‘O tell me, Tomlin,’ she said,
‘And tell it to me soon,
Was you ever at good church-door,
Or got you christendoom?’

12

‘O I have been at good church-door,
And aff her yetts within;
I was the Laird of Foulis's son,
The heir of all this land.

13

‘But it fell once upon a day,
As hunting I did ride,
As I rode east and west yon hill
There woe did me betide.

14

‘O drowsy, drowsy as I was!
Dead sleep upon me fell;
The Queen of Fairies she was there,
And took me to hersell.

15

‘The Elfins is a pretty place,
In which I love to dwell,
But yet at every seven years' end
The last here goes to hell;
And as I am ane o flesh and blood,
I fear the next be mysell.

16

‘The morn at even is Halloween;
Our fairy court will ride,
Throw England and Scotland both,
Throw al the world wide;
And if ye would me borrow,
At Rides Cross ye may bide.

17

‘You may go into the Miles Moss,
Between twelve hours and one;
Take holy water in your hand,
And cast a compass round.

18

‘The first court that comes along,
You'll let them all pass by;
The next court that comes along,
Salute them reverently.

19

‘The next court that comes along
Is clad in robes of green,
And it's the head court of them all,
For in it rides the queen.

20

‘And I upon a milk-white steed,
With a gold star in my crown;
Because I am an earthly man
I'm next to the queen in renown.

21

‘Then seize upon me with a spring,
Then to the ground I'll fa,
And then you'll hear a rueful cry
That Tomlin is awa.

22

‘Then I'll grow in your arms two
Like to a savage wild;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
I'm father of your child.

347

23

‘I'll grow into your arms two
Like an adder or a snake;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
I'll be your earthly maick.

24

‘I'll grow into your arms two
Like iron in strong fire;
But hold me fast, let me not go,
Then you'll have your desire.’

25

She rid down to Miles Cross,
Between twelve hours and one,
Took holy water in her hand,
And cast a compass round.

26

The first court that came along,
She let them all pass by;
The next court that came along
Saluted reverently.

27

The next court that came along
Were clad in robes of green,
When Tomlin, on a milk-white steed,
She saw ride with the queen.

28

She seized him in her arms two,
He to the ground did fa,
And then she heard a ruefull cry
‘Tomlin is now awa.’

29

He grew into her arms two
Like to a savage wild;
She held him fast, let him not go,
The father of her child.

30

He grew into her arms two
Like an adder or a snake;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was her earthly maick.

31

He grew into her arms two
Like iron in hot fire;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was her heart's desire.

32

Then sounded out throw elphin court,
With a loud shout and a cry,
That the pretty maid of Chaster's wood
That day had caught her prey.

33

‘O stay, Tomlin,’ cried Elphin Queen,
‘Till I pay you your fee;’
‘His father has lands and rents enough,
He wants no fee from thee.’

34

‘O had I known at early morn
Tomlin would from me gone,
I would have taken out his heart of flesh
Put in a heart of stone.’

Young Tamlin

TAM LIN—E

[_]

Motherwell's Note-book, p. 13.

1

Lady Margaret is over gravel green,
And over gravel grey,
And she's awa to Charteris ha,
Lang lang three hour or day.

2

She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower,
A flower but only ane,
Till up and started young Tamlin,
Says, Lady, let alane.

3

She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower,
A flower but only twa,
Till up and started young Tamlene,
Atween her and the wa.

4

‘How daur you pu my flower, madam?
How daur ye break my tree?
How daur ye come to Charter's ha,
Without the leave of me?’

5

‘Weel I may pu the rose,’ she said,
‘But I daurna break the tree;
And Charter's ha is my father's,
And I'm his heir to be.’

6

‘If Charteris ha be thy father's,
I was ance as gude mysell;
But as I came in by Lady Kirk,
And in by Lady Well,

7

‘Deep and drowsy was the sleep
On my poor body fell;
By came the Queen of Faery,
Made me with her to dwell.

8

‘But the morn at een is Halloween,
Our fairy foks a' do ride;
And she that will her true-love win,
At Blackstock she must bide.

9

‘First let by the black,’ he said,
‘And syne let by the brown;

348

But when you see the milk-white steed,
You'll pull his rider down.

10

‘You'll pull him into thy arms,
Let his bricht bridle fa,
And he'll fa low into your arms
Like stone in castle's wa.

11

‘They'll first shape him into your arms
An adder or a snake;
But hold him fast, let him not go,
He'll be your world's make.

12

‘They'll next shape him into your arms
Like a wood black dog to bite;
Hold him fast, let him not go,
For he'll be your heart's delight.

13

‘They'll next shape [him] into your arms
Like a red-het gaud o airn;
But hold him fast, let him not go,
He's the father o your bairn.

14

‘They'll next shape him into your arms
Like the laidliest worm of Ind;
But hold him fast, let him not go,
And cry aye “Young Tamlin.”’

[OMITTED]

15

Lady Margaret first let by the black,
And syne let by the brown,
But when she saw the milk-white steed
She pulled the rider down.

16

She pulled him into her arms,
Let his bright bridle fa',
And he fell low into her arms,
Like stone in castle's wa.

17

They first shaped him into arms
An adder or a snake;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
For he'd be her warld's make.

18

They next shaped him into her arms
Like a wood black dog to bite;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
For he'd be her heart's delight.

19

They next shaped him into her arms
Like a red-het gaud o airn;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
He'd be father o her bairn.

20

They next shaped him into her arms
Like the laidliest worm of Ind;
But she held him fast, let him not go,
And cried aye ‘Young Tamlin.’

21

The Queen of Faery turned her horse about,
Says, Adieu to thee, Tamlene!
For if I had kent what I ken this night,
If I had kent it yestreen,
I wad hae taen out thy heart o flesh,
And put in a heart o stane.

Tomaline

TAM LIN—F

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 64, from the recitation of widow McCormick, February, 1825.

[OMITTED]

1

She's taen her petticoat by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And she's awa to Chester wood,
As fast as she could run.

2

She scarsely pulled a rose, a rose,
She scarse pulled two or three,
Till up there starts Thomas
On the Lady Margaret's knee.

3

She's taen her petticoat by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And Lady Margaret's gane hame agen,
As fast as she could run.

4

Up starts Lady Margaret's sister,
An angry woman was she:
‘If there ever was a woman wi child,
Margaret, you are wi!’

5

Up starts Lady Margaret's mother,
An angry woman was she:
‘There grows ane herb in yon kirk-yard
That will scathe the babe away.’

349

6

She took her petticoats by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And she's gane to yon kirk-yard
As fast as she could run.

7

She scarcely pulled an herb, an herb,
She scarse pulled two or three,
Till up starts there Thomas
Upon this Lady Margret's knee.

8

‘How dare ye pull a rose?’ he says,
‘How dare ye break the tree?
How dare ye pull this herb,’ he says,
‘To scathe my babe away?

9

‘This night is Halloweve,’ he said,
‘Our court is going to waste,
And them that loves their true-love best
At Chester bridge they'll meet.

10

‘First let pass the black,’ he says,
‘And then let pass the brown,
But when ye meet the milk-white steed,
Pull ye the rider down.

11

‘They'll turn me to an eagle,’ he says,
‘And then into an ass;
Come, hold me fast, and fear me not,
The man that you love best.

12

‘They'll turn me to a flash of fire,
And then to a naked man;
Come, wrap you your mantle me about,
And then you'll have me won.’

13

She took her petticoats by the band,
Her mantle owre her arm,
And she's awa to Chester bridge,
As fast as she could run.

14

And first she did let pass the black,
And then let pass the brown,
But when she met the milk-white steed,
She pulled the rider down.

15

They turned him in her arms an eagle,
And then into an ass;
But she held him fast, and feared him not,
The man that she loved best.

16

They turned him into a flash of fire,
And then into a naked man;
But she wrapped her mantle him about,
And then she had him won.

17

‘O wae be to ye, Lady Margaret,
And an ill death may you die,
For you've robbed me of the bravest knight
That eer rode in our company.’

Tam-a-line, the Elfin Knight; or, Tam a-Lin, or The Knight of Faerylande

TAM LIN—G

[_]

Buchan's MSS, I, 8; Motherwell's MS., p. 595.

1

Take warning, a' ye ladies fair,
That wear gowd on your hair,
Come never unto Charter's woods,
For Tam-a-line he's there.

2

Even about that knight's middle
O' siller bells are nine;
Nae ane comes to Charter wood,
And a maid returns again.

3

Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
And she langd to gang to Charter woods,
To pou the roses green.

4

She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came him true Tam-a-line,
Says, Ladye, lat alane.

5

O why pou ye the rose, the rose?
Or why brake ye the tree?
Or why come ye to Charter woods,
Without leave askd of me?

6

‘I will pou the rose, the rose,
And I will brake the tree;
Charter woods are a' my ain,
I'll ask nae leave o thee.’

7

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her low on gude green wood,
At her he spierd nae leave.

8

When he had got his wills of her,
His wills as he had taen,
He's taen her by the middle sma,
Set her to feet again.

9

She turnd her right and round about,
To spier her true-love's name,

350

But naething heard she, nor naething saw,
As a' the woods grew dim.

10

Seven days she tarried there,
Saw neither sun nor meen;
At length, by a sma glimmering light,
Came thro the wood her lane.

11

When she came to her father's court,
As fine as ony queen;
But when eight months were past and gane,
Got on the gown o' green.

12

Then out it speaks an eldren knight,
As he stood at the yett:
‘Our king's daughter, she gaes wi bairn,
And we'll get a' the wyte.’

13

‘O had your tongue, ye eldren man,
And bring me not to shame;
Although that I do gang wi bairn,
Yese naeways get the blame.

14

‘Were my love but an earthly man,
As he's an elfin knight,
I woudna gie my ain true love
For a' that's in my sight.’

15

Then out it speaks her brither dear,
He meant to do her harm:
‘There is an herb in Charter wood
Will twine you an the bairn.’

16

She's taen her mantle her about,
Her coffer by the band,
And she is on to Charter wood,
As fast as she coud gang.

17

She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
Nor braken a branch but ane,
Till by it came him Tam-a-Line,
Says, Ladye, lat alane.

18

O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
The pile o the gravil green,
For to destroy the bonny bairn
That we got us between?

19

O why pou ye the pile, Margaret,
The pile o the gravil gray,
For to destroy the bonny bairn
That we got in our play?

20

For if it be a knave-bairn,
He's heir o a' my land;
But if it be a lass-bairn,
In red gowd she shall gang.

21

‘If my luve were an earthly man,
As he's an elfin rae,
I coud gang bound, love, for your sake,
A twalmonth and a day.’

22

‘Indeed your love's an earthly man,
The same as well as thee,
And lang I've haunted Charter woods,
A' for your fair bodie.’

23

‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
O tell, an tell me true,
Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,
What pedigree are you?’

24

‘O I hae been at gude church-door,
An I've got christendom;
I'm the Earl o' Forbes’ eldest son,
An heir ower a' his land.

25

‘When I was young, o three years old,
Muckle was made o me;
My step-mother put on my claithes,
An ill, ill sained she me.

26

‘Ae fatal morning I went out,
Dreading nae injury,
And thinking lang, fell soun asleep,
Beneath an apple tree.

27

‘Then by it came the Elfin Queen,
And laid her hand on me;
And from that time since ever I mind,
I've been in her companie.

28

‘O Elfin it's a bonny place,
In it fain woud I dwell;
But ay at ilka seven years' end
They pay a tiend to hell,
And I'm sae fou o flesh an blude,
I'm sair feard for mysell.’

29

‘O tell me, tell me, Tam-a-Line,
O tell, an tell me true;
Tell me this night, an mak nae lie,
What way I'll borrow you?’

351

30

‘The morn is Halloweven night,
The elfin court will ride,
Through England, and thro a' Scotland,
And through the world wide.

31

‘O they begin at sky setting,
Rides a' the evening tide;
And she that will her true-love borrow,
[At] Miles-corse will him bide.

32

‘Ye'll do you down to Miles-corse,
Between twall hours and ane,
And full your hands o holy water,
And cast your compass roun.

33

‘Then the first an court that comes you till
Is published king and queen;
The next an court that comes you till,
It is maidens mony ane.

34

‘The next an court that comes you till
Is footmen, grooms and squires;
The next an court that comes you till
Is knights, and I'll be there.

35

‘I Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
A goud star on my crown;
Because I was an earthly knight,
Got that for a renown.

36

‘And out at my steed's right nostril,
He'll breathe a fiery flame;
Ye'll loot you low, and sain yoursel,
And ye'll be busy then.

37

‘Ye'll take my horse then by the head,
And lat the bridal fa;
The Queen o' Elfin she'll cry out,
True Tam-a-Line's awa.

38

‘Then I'll appear in your arms
Like the wolf that neer woud tame;
Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,
Case we neer meet again.

39

‘Then I'll appear in your arms
Like the fire that burns sae bauld;
Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,
I'll be as iron cauld.

40

‘Then I'll appear in your arms
Like the adder an the snake;
Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,
I am your warld's make.

41

‘Then I'll appear in your arms
Like to the deer sae wild;
Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,
And I'll father your child.

42

‘And I'll appear in your arms
Like to a silken string;
Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,
Till ye see the fair morning.

43

‘And I'll appear in your arms
Like to a naked man;
Ye'll had me fast, lat me not go,
And wi you I'll gae hame.’

44

Then she has done her to Miles-corse,
Between twall hours an ane,
And filled her hands o holy water,
And kiest her compass roun.

45

The first an court that came her till
Was published king and queen;
The niest an court that came her till
Was maidens mony ane.

46

The niest an court that came her till
Was footmen, grooms and squires;
The niest an court that came her till
Was knights, and he was there.

47

True Tam-a-Line, on milk-white steed,
A gowd star on his crown;
Because he was an earthly man,
Got that for a renown.

48

And out at the steed's right nostril,
He breathd a fiery flame;
She loots her low, an sains hersell,
And she was busy then.

49

She's taen the horse then by the head,
And loot the bridle fa;
The Queen o Elfin she cried out,
‘True Tam-a-Line's awa.’

50

‘Stay still, true Tam-a-Line,’ she says,
‘Till I pay you your fee:’
‘His father wants not lands nor rents,
He'll ask nae fee frae thee.’

352

51

‘Gin I had kent yestreen, yestreen,
What I ken weel the day,
I shoud taen your fu fause heart,
Gien you a heart o clay.’

52

Then he appeared in her arms
Like the wolf that neer woud tame;
She held him fast, let him not go,
Case they neer meet again.

53

Then he appeared in her arms
Like the fire burning bauld;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was as iron cauld.

54

And he appeared in her arms
Like the adder an the snake;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He was her warld's make.

55

And he appeared in her arms
Like to the deer sae wild;
She held him fast, let him not go,
He's father o her child.

56

And he appeared in her arms
Like to a silken string;
She held him fast, let him not go,
Till she saw fair morning.

57

And he appeared in her arms
Like to a naked man;
She held him fast, let him not go,
And wi her he's gane hame.

58

These news hae reachd thro a' Scotland,
And far ayont the Tay,
That Lady Margaret, our king's daughter,
That night had gaind her prey.

59

She borrowed her love at mirk midnight,
Bare her young son ere day,
And though ye'd search the warld wide,
Ye'll nae find sic a may.

Young Tam Lane

TAM LIN—H

[_]

Campbell MSS, II, 129.

1

I forbid ye, maidens a',
That wears gowd in your hair,
To come or gang by Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lane is there.

2

I forbid ye, maidens a',
That wears gowd in your green,
To come or gang by Carterhaugh,
For fear of young Tam Lane.

3

‘Go saddle for me the black,’ says Janet,
‘Go saddle for me the brown,
And I'll away to Carterhaugh,
And flower mysell the gown.

4

‘Go saddle for me the brown,’ says Janet,
‘Go-saddle for me the black,
And I'll away to Carterhaugh,
And flower mysel a hat.’

[OMITTED]

5

She had not pulld a flowr, a flowr,
A flower but only three,
Till up there startit young Tam Lane,
Just at bird Janet's knee.

6

‘Why pullst thou the herb, Janet,
And why breaks thou the tree?
Why put you back the bonny babe
That's between you and me?’

7

‘If my child was to an earthly man,
As it is to a wild buck rae,
I would wake him the length of the winter's night,
And the lea lang simmer's day.’

8

‘The night is Halloween, Janet,
When our gude neighbours will ride,
And them that would their true-love won
At Blackning Cross maun bide.

9

‘Many will the black ride by,
And many will the brown,
But I ride on a milk-white steed,
And ride nearest the town:
Because I was a christened knight
They gie me that renown.

10

‘Many will the black ride by,
But far mae will the brown;

353

But when ye see the milk-white stead,
Grip fast and pull me down.

11

‘Take me in yer arms, Janet,
An ask, an adder lang;
The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,
I'll be father to your bairn.

12

‘Take me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and a snake;
The grip ye get ye maun haud fast,
I'll be your warld's make.’

[OMITTED]

13

Up bespak the Queen of Fairies,
She spak baith loud and high:
‘Had I kend the day at noon
Tam Lane had been won from me,

14

‘I wad hae taen out his heart o flesh,
Put in a heart o tree,
That a' the maids o Middle Middle Mist
Should neer hae taen Tam Lane frae me.’

15

Up bespack the Queen of Fairies,
And she spak wi a loud yell:
‘Aye at every seven year's end
We pay the kane to hell,
And the koors they hae gane round about,
And I fear it will be mysel.’

The Young Tamlane

TAM LIN—I

[_]

a. Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, II, 337, ed. 1833. b. II, 228, ed. 1802.

1

‘O I forbid ye, maidens a',
That wear gowd on your hair,
To come or gae by Carterhaugh,
For young Tamlane is there.

2

‘There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh
But maun leave him a wad,
Either gowd rings, or green mantles,
Or else their maidenheid.

3

‘Now gowd rings ye may buy, maidens,
Green mantles ye may spin,
But, gin ye lose your maidenheid,
Ye'll neer get that agen.’

4

But up then spak her, fair Janet,
The fairest o a' her kin:
‘I'll cum and gang to Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave o him.’

5

Janet has kilted her green kirtle
A little abune her knee,
And she has braided her yellow hair
A little abune her bree.

6

And when she came to Carterhaugh,
She gaed beside the well,
And there she fand his steed standing,
But away was himsell.

7

She hadna pu'd a red red rose,
A rose but barely three,
Till up and starts a wee wee man,
At lady Janet's knee.

8

Says, Why pu ye the rose, Janet?
What gars ye break the tree?
Or why come ye to Carterhaugh,
Withouten leave o me?

9

Says, Carterhaugh it is mine ain,
My daddie gave it me;
I'll come and gang to Carterhaugh,
And ask nae leave o thee.

10

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
Among the leaves sae green,
And what they did I cannot tell,
The green leaves were between.

11

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
Among the roses red,
And what they did I cannot say,
She neer returnd a maid.

12

When she cam to her father's ha,
She looked pale and wan;
They thought she'd dreed some sair sickness,
Or been with some leman.

13

She didna comb her yellow hair
Nor make meikle o her head,
And ilka thing that lady took
Was like to be her deid.

354

14

It's four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba;
Janet, the wightest of them anes,
Was faintest o them a'.

15

Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess;
And out there came the fair Janet,
As green as any grass.

16

Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight,
Lay oer the castle wa:
‘And ever, alas! for thee, Janet,
But we'll be blamed a'!’

17

‘Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight,
And an ill deid may ye die!
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I'll father nane on thee.’

18

Out then spak her father dear,
And he spak meik and mild:
‘And ever, alas! my sweet Janet,
I fear ye gae with child.’

19

‘And if I be with child, father,
Mysell maun bear the blame;
There's neer a knight about your ha
Shall hae the bairnie's name.

20

‘And if I be with child, father,
'Twill prove a wondrous birth,
For weel I swear I'm not wi bairn
To any man on earth.

21

‘If my love were an earthly knight,
As he's an elfin grey,
I wadna gie my ain true love
For nae lord that ye hae.’

22

She prinkd hersell and prinnd hersell,
By the ae light of the moon,
And she's away to Carterhaugh,
To speak wi young Tamlane.

23

And when she cam to Carterhaugh,
She gaed beside the well,
And there she saw the steed standing,
But away was himsell.

24

She hadna pu'd a double rose,
A rose but only twae,
When up and started young Tamlane,
Says, Lady, thou pu's nae mae.

25

Why pu ye the rose, Janet,
Within this garden grene,
And a' to kill the bonny babe
That we got us between?

26

‘The truth ye'll tell to me, Tamlane,
A word ye mauna lie;
Gin eer ye was in haly chapel,
Or sained in Christentie?’

27

‘The truth I'll tell to thee, Janet,
A word I winna lie;
A knight me got, and a lady me bore,
As well as they did thee.

28

‘Randolph, Earl Murray, was my sire,
Dunbar, Earl March, is thine;
We loved when we were children small,
Which yet you well may mind.

29

‘When I was a boy just turnd of nine,
My uncle sent for me,
To hunt and hawk, and ride with him,
And keep him companie.

30

‘There came a wind out of the north,
A sharp wind and a snell,
And a deep sleep came over me,
And frae my horse I fell.

31

‘The Queen of Fairies keppit me
In yon green hill to dwell,
And I'm a fairy, lyth and limb,
Fair ladye, view me well.

32

‘Then would I never tire, Janet,
In Elfish land to dwell,
But aye, at every seven years,
They pay the teind to hell;
And I am sae fat and fair of flesh,
I fear't will be mysell.

33

‘This night is Halloween, Janet,
The morn is Hallowday,
And gin ye dare your true love win,
Ye hae nae time to stay.

34

‘The night it is good Halloween,
When fairy folk will ride,

355

And they that wad their true-love win,
At Miles Cross they maun bide.’

35

‘But how shall I thee ken, Tamlane?
Or how shall I thee knaw,
Amang so many unearthly knights,
The like I never saw?’

36

‘The first company that passes by,
Say na, and let them gae;
The next company that passes by,
Say na, and do right sae;
The third company that passes by,
Then I'll be ane o thae.

37

‘First let pass the black, Janet,
And syne let pass the brown,
But grip ye to the milk-white steed,
And pu the rider down.

38

‘For I ride on the milk-white steed,
And aye nearest the town;
Because I was a christend knight,
They gave me that renown.

39

‘My right hand will be gloved, Janet,
My left hand will be bare;
And these the tokens I gie thee,
Nae doubt I will be there.

40

‘They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and a snake;
But had me fast, let me not pass,
Gin ye wad be my maik.

41

‘They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
An adder and an ask;
They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A bale that burns fast.

42

‘They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,
A red-hot gad o airn;
But haud me fast, let me not pass,
For I'll do you no harm.

43

‘First dip me in a stand o milk,
And then in a stand o water;
But had me fast, let me not pass,
I'll be your bairn's father.

44

‘And next they'll shape me in your arms
A tod but and an eel;
But had me fast, nor let me gang,
As you do love me weel.

45

‘They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,
A dove but and a swan,
And last they'll shape me in your arms
A mother-naked man;
Cast your green mantle over me,
I'll be myself again.’

46

Gloomy, gloomy, was the night,
And eiry was the way,
As fair Janet, in her green mantle,
To Miles Cross she did gae.

47

About the dead hour o the night
She heard the bridles ring,
And Janet was as glad o that
As any earthly thing.

48

And first gaed by the black black steed,
And then gaed by the brown;
But fast she gript the milk-white steed,
And pu'd the rider down.

49

She pu'd him frae the milk-white steed,
And loot the bridle fa,
And up there raise an erlish cry,
‘He's won amang us a'!’

50

They shaped him in fair Janet's arms
An esk but and an adder;
She held him fast in every shape,
To be her bairn's father.

51

They shaped him in her arms at last
A mother-naked man,
She wrapt him in her green mantle,
And sae her true love wan.

52

Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush o broom:
‘She that has borrowd young Tamlane
Has gotten a stately groom.’

53

Up then spake the Queen o Fairies,
Out o a bush o rye:
‘She's taen awa the bonniest knight
In a' my cumpanie.

54

‘But had I kennd, Tamlane,’ she says,
‘A lady wad borrowd thee

356

I wad taen out thy twa grey een,
Put in twa een o tree.

55

‘Had I but kennd, Tamlane,’ she says,
‘Before ye came frae hame,
I wad taen out your heart o flesh,
Put in a heart o stane.

56

‘Had I but had the wit yestreen
That I hae coft the day,
I'd paid my kane seven times to hell
Ere you'd been won away.’

Young Tamlane

TAM LIN—J

[_]

Kinloch MSS, V, 391. In Dr John Hill Burton's handwriting, and perhaps from the recitation of Mrs Robertson (Christian Leslie), mother of Dr Joseph Robertson.

[OMITTED]

1

‘The night, the night is Halloween,
Tomorrow's Hallowday,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

2

‘The night, the night is Halloween,
Our seely court maun ride,
Thro England and thro Ireland both,
And a' the warld wide.

[OMITTED]

3

‘The firsten court that comes ye bye,
You'll lout, and let them gae;
The seconden court that comes you bye,
You'll hail them reverently.

4

‘The thirden court that comes you by,
Sae weel's ye will me ken,
For some will be on a black, a black,
And some will be on a brown,
But I will be on a bluid-red steed,
And will ride neist the queen.

5

‘The thirden court that comes you bye,
Sae weel's ye will me ken,
For I'll be on a bluid-red steed,
Wi three stars on his crown.

6

‘Ye'll tak the horse head in yer hand,
And grip the bridle fast;
The Queen o Elfin will gie a cry,
“True Tamas is stown awa!”

7

‘And I will grow in your twa hands
An adder and an eel;
But the grip ye get ye'll hold it fast,
I'll be father to yer chiel.

8

‘I will wax in your twa hans
As hot as any coal;
But if you love me as you say,
You'll think of me and thole.

9

‘O I will grow in your twa hands
An adder and a snake;
The grip ye get now hold it fast,
And I'll be your world's mait.

10

‘O I'll gae in at your gown sleeve,
And out at your gown hem,
And I'll stand up before thee then
A freely naked man.

11

‘O I'll gae in at your gown sleeve,
And out at your gown hem,
And I'll stand before you then,
But claithing I'll hae nane.

12

‘Ye'll do you down to Carden's Ha,
And down to Carden's stream,
And there you'll see our seely court,
As they come riding hame.’

[OMITTED]

13

‘It's nae wonder, my daughter Janet,
True Tammas ye thought on;
An he were a woman as he's a man,
My bedfellow he should be.’

The Queen of the Fairies

TAM LIN—J II

[_]

Macmath MS., p. 57. “Taken down by me 14th October, 1886, from the recitation of Mr Alexander Kirk, Inspector of Poor, Dalry, in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright, who learned it about fifty years ago from the singing of David Ray, Barlay, Balmaclellan.”

1

The maid that sits in Katherine's Hall,
Clad in her robes so black,
She has to yon garden gone,
For flowers to flower her hat.

2

She had not pulled the red, red rose,
A double rose but three,
When up there starts a gentleman,
Just at this lady's knee.

3

Says, Who's this pulls the red, red rose?
Breaks branches off the tree?
Or who's this treads my garden-grass,
Without the leave of me?

4

‘Yes, I will pull the red, red rose,
Break branches off the tree,
This garden in Moorcartney wood,
Without the leave o thee.’

5

He took her by the milk-white hand
And gently laid her down,
Just in below some shady trees
Where the green leaves hung down.

6

‘Come tell to me, kind sir,’ she said,
‘What before you never told;
Are you an earthly man?’ said she,
‘A knight or a baron bold?’

7

‘I'll tell to you, fair lady,’ he said,
‘What before I neer did tell;
I'm Earl Douglas's second son,
With the queen of the fairies I dwell.

8

‘When riding through yon forest-wood,
And by yon grass-green well,
A sudden sleep me overtook,
And off my steed I fell.

9

‘The queen of the fairies, being there,
Made me with her to dwell,
And still once in the seven years
We pay a teind to hell.

10

‘And because I am an earthly man,
Myself doth greatly fear,

For the cleverest man in all our train
To Pluto must go this year.

11

‘This night is Halloween, lady,
And the fairies they will ride;
The maid that will her true-love win
At Miles Cross she may bide.’

12

‘But how shall I thee ken, though, sir?
Or how shall I thee know,
Amang a pack o hellish wraiths,
Before I never saw?’

13

‘Some rides upon a black horse, lady,
And some upon a brown,
But I myself on a milk-white steed,
And I aye nearest the toun.

14

‘My right hand shall be covered, lady,
My left hand shall be bare,
And that's a token good enough
That you will find me there.

15

‘Take the Bible in your right hand,
With God for to be your guide,
Take holy water in thy left hand,
And throw it on every side.’

16

She's taen her mantle her about,
A cane into her hand,
And she has unto Miles Cross gone,
As hard as she can gang.

17

First she has letten the black pass by,
And then she has letten the brown,
But she's taen a fast hold o the milk-white steed,
And she's pulled Earl Thomas doun.

18

The queen of the fairies being there,
Sae loud she's letten a cry,
‘The maid that sits in Katherine's Hall
This night has gotten her prey.

19

‘But hadst thou waited, fair lady,
Till about this time the morn,
He would hae been as far from thee or me
As the wind that blew when he was born.’

20

They turned him in this lady's arms
Like the adder and the snake;
She held him fast; why should she not?
Though her poor heart was like to break.

21

They turned him in this lady's arms
Like two red gads of airn;
She held him fast; why should she not?
She knew they could do her no harm.

22

They turned him in this lady's arms
Like to all things that was vile;
She held him fast; why should she not?
The father of her child.

23

They turned him in this lady's arms
Like to a naked knight;
She's taen him hame to her ain bower,
And clothed him in armour bright.

TAM LIN—K

[_]

Communicated to Scott November 11, 1812, by Hugh Irvine, Drum, Aberdeenshire, as procured from the recitation of an old woman in Buchan: Letters, V, No 137, Abbotsford. (Not in Irvine's hand.)

1

Leady Margat stands in her boor-door,
Clead in the robs of green;
She longed to go to Charters Woods,
To pull the flowers her lean.

2

She had not puld a rose, a rose,
O not a rose but one,
Till up it starts True Thomas,
Said, Leady, let alone.

3

‘Why pull ye the rose, Marget?
Or why break ye the tree?
Or why come ye to Charters Woods
Without the leave of me?’

4

‘I will pull the rose,’ she said,
‘And I will break the tree,
For Charters Woods is all my own,
And I'l ask no leave of the.’

5

He's tean her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her lo at the foot of the tree,
At her he askt no leave.

6

It fell once upon a day
They wer a pleaying at the ba,
And every one was reed and whyte,
Leady Marget's culler was all awa.

7

Out it speaks an elder man,
As he stood in the gate,
‘Our king's daughter she gos we bern,
And we will get the wait.’

8

‘If I be we bern,’ she said,
‘My own self beer the blame!
There is not a man in my father's court
Will get my bern's name.’

9

‘There grows a flower in Charters Woods,
It grows on gravel greay,
It ould destroy the boney young bern
That ye got in your pley.’

10

She's tean her mantle her about,
Her green glove on her hand,
And she's awa to Charters Woods,
As fest as she could gang.

11

She had no puld a pile, a pile,
O not a pile but one,
Up it startid True Thomas,
Said, Leady, lat alean.

12

‘Why pull ye the pile, Marget,
That grows on gravel green,
For to destroy the boney young bern
That we got us between?’

13

‘If it were to an earthly man,
As [it is] to an elphan knight,
I ould walk for my true-love's sake
All the long winter's night.’

14

‘When I was a boy of eleven years old,
And much was made of me,
I went out to my father's garden,
Fell asleep at yon aple tree:
The queen of Elphan [she] came by,
And laid on her hands on me.

15

‘Elphan it's a boney place,
In it fain wid I dwall;
But ey at every seven years end
We pay the teene to hell:
I'm so full of flesh and blood
I'm sear feart for mysel.

16

‘The morn's Hallow Even's night,
When a' our courts do ride,
Through England and through Irland,
Through a' the world wide:
And she that would her true-love borrow
At Miles Corse she may bide.

17

‘The first an court that ye come till,
Ye let them a' pass by;
The next an court that ye come till,
Ye hile them reverendly.

18

‘The next an court that ye come till,
An therein rides the queen,

Me upon a milk-whyte steed,
And a gold star in my croun;
Because I am a erle's soon,
I get that for my renoun.

19

‘Ye take me in your armes,
Give me a right sear fa;
The queen of Elphan she'l cry out,
True Thomas is awa!

20

‘First I'l be in your armes
The fire burning so bold;
Ye hold me fast, let me no pass
Till I be like iron cold.

21

‘Next I'l be in your armes
The fire burning so wild;
Ye hold me fast, let me no pass,
I'm the father of your child.’

22

The first court that came her till,
She let them a' pass by;
The nex an court that came her till,
She helt them reverendly.

23

The nex an court that came her till,
And therein read the queen,
True Thomas on a milk-whyte steed,
A gold star in his croun;
Because he was a earl's soon,
He got that for his renoun.

24

She's tean him in her arms,
Geen him a right sore fa;
The queen of Elphan she cried out,
True Thomas is awa!

25

He was into her arms
The fire burning so bold;
She held him fast, let him no pass
Till he was like iron cold.

26

He was into her arms
The fire burning so wild;
She held him fast, let him no pass,
He was the father of her child.

27

The queen of Elphan she cried out,
An angry woman was she,
‘Let Leady Marget an her true-love be,
She's bought him dearer than me.’

TAM LIN—L

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 27, Abbotsford; in the handwriting of William Laidlaw.

1

I charge ye, a' ye ladies fair,
That wear goud in your hair,
To come an gang bye Carterhaugh,
For young Tam Lien is there.

[OMITTED]

2

Then Janet kiltit her green cleadin
A wee aboon her knee,
An she's gane away to Carterhaugh,
As fast as she can dree.

3

When Janet cam to Carterhaugh,
Tam Lien was at the wall,
An there he left his steed stannin,
But away he gaed his sell.

4

She had na pu'd a red, red rose,
A rose but only thre,
Till up then startit young Tam Lien,
Just at young Jenet's knee.

5

‘What gars ye pu the rose, Janet,
Briek branches frae the tree,
An come an gang by Carterhaugh,
An speir nae leave of me?’

6

‘What need I speir leave o thee, Tam?
What need I speir leave o thee,
When Carterhaugh is a' mine ain,
My father gae it me?’

[OMITTED]

7

She's kiltit up her green cleadin
A wee aboon her knee,
An she's away to her ain bower-door,
As fast as she can dree.

[OMITTED]

8

There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
A' dancin in a chess,

An some war blue an some war green,
But Janet was like the gress.

9

There war four-an-twentie fair ladies
A' playin at the ba,
An some war red an som wer white,
But Jennet was like the snaw.

TAM LIN—M

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 15. Communicated to Scott by Major Henry Hutton, Royal Artillery, 24th December, 1802, as recollected by his father “and the family:” Letters I, No 77. Major Hutton intimates that stanzas 46-49 of the first edition of ‘Tamlane’ (‘Roxburgh was my grandfather,’ ff., corresponding to I 28-32) should be struck out, and his verses inserted. But 4-12 of Hutton's stanzas belong to ‘Thomas Rymer.’

1

My father was a noble knight,
And was much gi'n to play,
And I myself a bonny boy,
And followed him away.

2

He rowd me in his hunting-coat
And layd me down to sleep,
And by the queen of fairies came,
And took me up to keep.

3

She set me on a milk-white steed;
'Twas o the elfin kind;
His feet were shot wi beaten goud,
And fleeter than the wind.

4

Then we raid on and on'ard mair,
Oer mountain, hill and lee,
Till we came to a hie, hie wa,
Upon a mountain's bree.

5

The apples hung like stars of goud
Out-our that wa sa fine;
I put my hand to pu down ane,
For want of food I thought to tine.

6

‘O had your hand, Tamas!’ she said,
‘O let that evil fruit now be!
It was that apple ye see there
Beguil'd man and woman in your country.

7

‘O dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,
Down by yon lilie lee?
Blessd is the man who yon gate gaes,
It leads him to the heavens hie.

8

‘And dinna ye see yon road, Tamas,
Down by yon frosty fell?
Curst is the man that yon gate gaes,
For it leads to the gates of hell.

9

‘O dinna ye see yon castle, Tamas,
That's biggit between the twa,
And theekit wi the beaten goud?
O that's the fairies' ha.

10

‘O when ye come to the ha, Tamas,
See that a weel-learnd boy ye be;
They'll ask ye questions ane and a',
But see ye answer nane but me.

11

‘If ye speak to ain but me, Tamas,
A fairie ye maun ever bide;
But if ye speak to nane but me, Tamas,
Ye may come to be your country's pride.’

12

And when he came to Fairie Ha,
I wot a weel-learnd boy was he;
They askd him questions ane and a',
But he answerd nane but his ladie.

13

There was four-and-twenty gude knights'-sons
In fairie land obliged to bide,
And of a' the pages that were there
Fair Tamas was his ladie's pride.

14

There was four-and-twenty earthly boys,
Wha all played at the ba,
But Tamas was the bonniest boy,
And playd the best amang them a'.

15

There was four-and-twenty earthly maids,
Wha a' playd at the chess,
Their colour rosy-red and white,
Their gowns were green as grass.

16

‘And pleasant are our fairie sports,
We flie o'er hill and dale;
But at the end of seven years
They pay the teen to hell.

17

‘And now's the time, at Hallowmess,
Late on the morrow's even,
And if ye miss me then, Janet,
I'm lost for yearis seven.’

Tamlane

TAM LIN—N

[_]

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 96 a; in the handwriting of John Leyden.

‘Gowd rings I can buy, Thomas,
Green mantles I can spin,
But gin ye take my maidenheid
I'll neer get that again.’

Out and spak the queen o fairies,
Out o a shot o wheat,
‘She that has gotten young Tamlane
Has gotten my heart's delight.’

358

40
THE QUEEN OF ELFAN'S NOURICE

THE QUEEN OF ELFAN'S NOURICE

[_]

Skene MSS, No 8, p. 25. Sharpe's Ballad Book, ed. Laing, p. 169.

359

1

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An a cow low down in yon glen;
Lang, lang will my young son greet
Or his mither bid him come ben.

2

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low,
An a cow low down in yon fauld;
Lang, lang will my young son greet
Or his mither take him frae cauld.

[OMITTED]

3

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
Waken, Queen of Elfan,
An hear your nourice moan.’

4

‘O moan ye for your meat,
Or moan ye for your fee,
Or moan ye for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie?’

5

‘I moan na for my meat,
Nor moan I for my fee,
Nor moan I for the ither bounties
That ladies are wont to gie.

6

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
But I moan for my young son
I left in four nights auld.

7

‘I moan na for my meat,
Nor yet for my fee,
But I mourn for Christen land,
It's there I fain would be.’

8

‘O nurse my bairn, nourice,’ she says,
‘Till he stan at your knee,
An ye's win hame to Christen land,
Whar fain it's ye wad be.

9

‘O keep my bairn, nourice,
Till he gang by the hauld,
An ye's win hame to your young son
Ye left in four nights auld.’

[OMITTED]

10

‘O nourice lay your head
Upo my knee:
See ye na that narrow road
Up by yon tree?

11

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
That's the road the righteous goes,
And that's the road to heaven.

12

‘An see na ye that braid road,
Down by yon sunny fell?
Yon's the road the wicked gae,
An that's the road to hell.’

[OMITTED]

360

41
HIND ETIN

367

Young Akin

HIND ETIN—A

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 6; Mother-well's MS., p. 554.

1

Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
She heard a note in Elmond's wood,
And wishd she there had been.

2

She loot the seam fa frae her side,
And the needle to her tae,
And she is on to Elmond's wood
As fast as she coud gae.

3

She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came a young hind chiel,
Says, Lady, lat alane.

4

O why pu ye the nut, the nut,
Or why brake ye the tree?
For I am forester o this wood:
Ye shoud spier leave at me.

5

‘I'll ask leave at no living man,
Nor yet will I at thee;
My father is king oer a' this realm,
This wood belongs to me.’

6

She hadna pu'd a nut, a nut,
Nor broken a branch but three,
Till by it came him Young Akin,
And gard her lat them be.

7

The highest tree in Elmond's wood,
He's pu'd it by the reet,
And he has built for her a bower,
Near by a hallow seat.

8

He's built a bower, made it secure
Wi carbuncle and stane;
Tho travellers were never sae nigh,
Appearance it had nane.

9

He's kept her there in Elmond's wood,
For six lang years and one,
Till six pretty sons to him she bear,
And the seventh she's brought home.

10

It fell ance upon a day,
This guid lord went from home,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi him his eldest son.

11

And when they were on a guid way,
Wi slowly pace did walk,
The boy's heart being something wae,
He thus began to talk:

12

‘A question I woud ask, father,
Gin ye woudna angry be:’
‘Say on, say on, my bonny boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrelld by me.’

13

‘I see my mither's cheeks aye weet,
I never can see them dry;
And I wonder what aileth my mither,
To mourn continually.’

14

‘Your mither was a king's daughter,
Sprung frae a high degree,
And she might hae wed some worthy prince,
Had she nae been stown by me.

15

‘I was her father's cup-bearer,
Just at that fatal time;
I catchd her on a misty night,
Whan summer was in prime.

16

‘My luve to her was most sincere,
Her luve was great for me,
But when she hardships doth endure,
Her folly she does see.’

17

‘I'll shoot the buntin o the bush,
The linnet o the tree,
And bring them to my dear mither,
See if she'll merrier be.’

368

18

It fell upo another day,
This guid lord he thought lang,
And he is to the hunting gane,
Took wi him his dog and gun.

19

Wi bow and arrow by his side,
He's aff, single, alane,
And left his seven children to stay
Wi their mither at hame.

20

‘O I will tell to you, mither,
Gin ye wadna angry be:’
‘Speak on, speak on, my little wee boy,
Ye'se nae be quarrelld by me.’

21

‘As we came frae the hynd-hunting,
We heard fine music ring:’
‘My blessings on you, my bonny boy,
I wish I'd been there my lane.’

22

He's taen his mither by the hand,
His six brithers also,
And they are on thro Elmond's wood,
As fast as they coud go.

23

They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Wi the stratlins o their feet;
They wistna weel where they were gaen,
Till at her father's yate.

24

‘I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I'll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye'll walk there for me.

25

‘Ye'll gie the first to the proud porter,
And he will lat you in;
Ye'll gie the next to the butler-boy,
And he will show you ben;

26

‘Ye'll gie the third to the minstrel
That plays before the king;
He'll play success to the bonny boy
Came thro the wood him lane.’

27

He gae the first to the proud porter,
And he opend an let him in;
He gae the next to the butler-boy,
And he has shown him ben;

28

He gae the third to the minstrel
That playd before the king;
And he playd success to the bonny boy
Came thro the wood him lane.

29

Now when he came before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
The king he turned round about,
And the saut tear blinded his ee.

30

‘Win up, win up, my bonny boy,
Gang frae my companie;
Ye look sae like my dear daughter,
My heart will birst in three.’

31

‘If I look like your dear daughter,
A wonder it is none;
If I look like your dear daughter,
I am her eldest son.’

32

‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be?’
‘She's just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi.’

33

‘O where are all my porter-boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid?
Let her come in to me.’

34

When she came in before the king,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye'll dine wi me.’

35

‘Ae bit I canno eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Till I see my mither and sister dear,
For lang for them I think.’

36

When she came before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear
This day ye'se dine wi me.’

37

‘Ae bit I canno eat, mither,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear sister,
For lang for her I think.’

38

When that these two sisters met,
She haild her courteouslie;
‘Come ben, come ben, my sister dear,
This day ye'se dine wi me.’

369

39

‘Ae bit I canno eat, sister,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my dear husband,
For lang for him I think.’

40

‘O where are all my rangers bold
That I pay meat and fee,
To search the forest far an wide,
And bring Akin to me?’

41

Out it speaks the little wee boy:
Na, na, this maunna be;
Without ye grant a free pardon,
I hope ye'll nae him see.

42

‘O here I grant a free pardon,
Well seald by my own han;
Ye may make search for Young Akin,
As soon as ever you can.’

43

They searchd the country wide and braid,
The forests far and near,
And found him into Elmond's wood,
Tearing his yellow hair.

44

‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
Win up, and boun wi me;
We're messengers come from the court,
The king wants you to see.’

45

‘O lat him take frae me my head,
Or hang me on a tree;
For since I've lost my dear lady,
Life's no pleasure to me.’

46

‘Your head will nae be touchd, Akin,
Nor hangd upon a tree;
Your lady's in her father's court,
And all he wants is thee.’

47

When he came in before the king,
Fell low down on his knee;
‘Win up, win up now, Young Akin,
This day ye'se dine wi me.’

48

But as they were at dinner set,
The boy asked a boun:
‘I wish we were in the good church,
For to get christendoun.

49

‘We hae lived in guid green wood
This seven years and ane;
But a' this time, since eer I mind,
Was never a church within.’

50

‘Your asking's nae sae great, my boy,
But granted it shall be;
This day to guid church ye shall gang,
And your mither shall gang you wi.’

51

When unto the guid church she came,
She at the door did stan;
She was sae sair sunk down wi shame,
She coudna come farer ben.

52

Then out it speaks the parish priest,
And a sweet smile gae he:
‘Come ben, come ben, my lily flower,
Present your babes to me.’

53

Charles, Vincent, Sam and Dick,
And likewise James and John;
They calld the eldest Young Akin,
Which was his father's name.

54

Then they staid in the royal court,
And livd wi mirth and glee,
And when her father was deceasd,
Heir of the crown was she.

Hynde Etin

HIND ETIN—B

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 228.

1

May Margret stood in her bouer door,
Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
And wishd that she was there.

2

She has plaited her yellow locks
A little abune her bree,
And she has kilted her petticoats
A little below her knee,
And she's aff to Mulberry wud,
As fast as she could gae.

3

She had na pu'd a nut, a nut,
A nut but barely ane,
Till up started the Hynde Etin,
Says, Lady, let thae alane!

370

4

‘Mulberry wuds are a' my ain;
My father gied them me,
To sport and play when I thought lang;
And they sall na be tane by thee.’

5

And ae she pu'd the tither berrie,
Na thinking o' the skaith,
And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith.

6

But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree,
And said, For slichting my commands,
An ill death sall ye dree.

7

He pu'd a tree out o the wud,
The biggest that was there,
And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
And put May Margret there.

8

‘Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;
My wuds are free for thee;
And gif I tak ye to mysell,
The better ye'll like me.’

9

Na rest, na rest May Margret took,
Sleep she got never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane.

10

‘O tak me out,’ May Margret cried,
‘O tak me hame to thee,
And I sall be your bounden page
Until the day I dee.’

11

He took her out o the dungeon deep,
And awa wi him she's gane;
But sad was the day an earl's dochter
Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin.

[OMITTED]

12

It fell out ance upon a day
Hynde Etin's to the hunting gane,
And he has tane wi him his eldest son,
For to carry his game.

13

‘O I wad ask ye something, father,
An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’

14

‘My mother's cheeks are aft times weet,
Alas! they are seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho she should brast and die.

15

‘For your mother was an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now she's wife o Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.

16

‘But we'll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree,
And ye'll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she'll comforted be.’

[OMITTED]

17

‘I wad ask ye something, mother,
An ye wadna angry be;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.’

18

‘Your cheeks they are aft times weet,
Alas! they're seldom dry;’
‘Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho I should brast and die.

19

‘For I was ance an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.’

[OMITTED]

Young Hastings; or, Young Hastings the Groom

HIND ETIN—C

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 67, communicated by Mr James Nicol, of Strichen; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 287; Motherwell's MS., p. 450.

1

‘O well like I to ride in a mist,
And shoot in a northern win,
And far better a lady to steal,
That's come of a noble kin.’

2

Four an twenty fair ladies
Put on this lady's sheen,
And as mony young gentlemen
Did lead her ower the green.

371

3

Yet she preferred before them all
Him, young Hastings the Groom;
He's coosten a mist before them all,
And away this lady has taen.

4

He's taken the lady on him behind,
Spared neither grass nor corn,
Till they came to the wood o Amonshaw,
Where again their loves were sworn.

5

And they hae lived in that wood
Full mony a year and day,
And were supported from time to time
By what he made of prey.

6

And seven bairns, fair and fine,
There she has born to him,
And never was in gude church-door,
Nor ever got gude kirking.

7

Ance she took harp into her hand,
And harped them a' asleep,
Then she sat down at their couch-side,
And bitterly did weep.

8

Said, Seven bairns hae I born now
To my lord in the ha;
I wish they were seven greedy rats,
To run upon the wa,
And I mysel a great grey cat,
To eat them ane and a'.

9

For ten lang years now I hae lived
Within this cave of stane,
And never was at gude church-door,
Nor got no gude churching.

10

O then out spake her eldest child,
And a fine boy was he:
O hold your tongue, my mother dear;
I'll tell you what to dee.

11

Take you the youngest in your lap,
The next youngest by the hand,
Put all the rest of us you before,
As you learnt us to gang.

12

And go with us unto some kirk —
You say they are built of stane —
And let us all be christened,
And you get gude kirking.

13

She took the youngest in her lap,
The next youngest by the hand,
Set all the rest of them her before,
As she learnt them to gang.

14

And she has left the wood with them,
And to the kirk has gane,
Where the gude priest them christened,
And gave her gude kirking.

42
CLERK COLVILL

387

Clark Colven

CLERK COLVILL—A

[_]

From a transcript from William Tytler's Brown MS.

1

Clark Colven and his gay ladie,
As they walked to yon garden green,
A belt about her middle gimp,
Which cost Clark Colven crowns fifteen:

2

‘O hearken weel now, my good lord,
O hearken weel to what I say;
When ye gang to the wall o Stream,
O gang nae neer the well-fared may.’

3

‘O haud your tongue, my gay ladie,
Tak nae sic care o me;
For I nae saw a fair woman
I like so well as thee.’

4

He mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And merry, merry rade he on,
Till he came to the wall o Stream,
And there he saw the mermaiden.

5

‘Ye wash, ye wash, ye bonny may,
And ay's ye wash your sark o silk:’
‘It's a' for you, ye gentle knight,
My skin is whiter than the milk.’

6

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
He's taen her by the sleeve sae green,

388

And he's forgotten his gay ladie,
And away with the fair maiden.

[OMITTED]

7

‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven,
‘And aye sae sair's I mean my head!’
And merrily leugh the mermaiden,
‘O win on till you be dead.

8

‘But out ye tak your little pen-knife,
And frae my sark ye shear a gare;
Row that about your lovely head,
And the pain ye'll never feel nae mair.’

9

Out he has taen his little pen-knife,
And frae her sark he's shorn a gare,
Rowed that about his lovely head,
But the pain increased mair and mair.

10

‘Ohon, alas!’ says Clark Colven,
‘An aye sae sair's I mean my head!’
And merrily laughd the mermaiden,
‘It will ay be war till ye be dead.’

11

Then out he drew his trusty blade,
And thought wi it to be her dead,
But she's become a fish again,
And merrily sprang into the fleed.

12

He's mounted on his berry-brown steed,
And dowy, dowy rade he home,
And heavily, heavily lighted down
When to his ladie's bower-door he came.

13

‘Oh, mither, mither, mak my bed,
And, gentle ladie, lay me down;
Oh, brither, brither, unbend my bow,
'Twill never be bent by me again.’

14

His mither she has made his bed,
His gentle ladie laid him down,
His brither he has unbent his bow,
'Twas never bent by him again.

Clerk Colvill; or, The Mermaid

CLERK COLVILL—B

[_]

Herd's Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 302: ed. 1776, I, 161.

1

Clerk Colvill and his lusty dame
Were walking in the garden green;
The belt around her stately waist
Cost Clerk Colvill of pounds fifteen.

2

‘O promise me now, Clerk Colvill,
Or it will cost ye muckle strife,
Ride never by the wells of Slane,
If ye wad live and brook your life.’

3

‘Now speak nae mair, my lusty dame,
Now speak nae mair of that to me;
Did'I neer see a fair woman,
But I wad sin with her body?’

4

He's taen leave o his gay lady,
Nought minding what his lady said,
And he's rode by the wells of Slane,
Where washing was a bonny maid.

5

‘Wash on, wash on, my bonny maid,
That wash sae clean your sark of silk;’
‘And weel fa you, fair gentleman,
Your body whiter than the milk.’

[OMITTED]

6

Then loud, loud cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
‘O my head it pains me sair;’
‘Then take, then take,’ the maiden said,
‘And frae my sark you'll cut a gare.’

7

Then she's gied him a little bane-knife,
And frae her sark he cut a share;
She's ty'd it round his whey-white face,
But ay his head it aked mair.

8

Then louder cry'd the Clerk Colvill,
‘O sairer, sairer akes my head;’
‘And sairer, sairer ever will,’
The maiden crys, ‘till you be dead.’

9

Out then he drew his shining blade,
Thinking to stick her where she stood,
But she was vanishd to a fish,
And swam far off, a fair mermaid.

10

‘O mother, mother, braid my hair;
My lusty lady, make my bed;
O brother, take my sword and spear,
For I have seen the false mermaid.’

389

CLERK COLVILL—C

[_]

Notes and Queries, 4th Series, VIII, 510, from the recitation of a lady in Forfarshire.

1

Clerk Colin and his mother dear
Were in the garden green;
The band that was about her neck
Cost Colin pounds fifteen;
The belt about her middle sae sma
Cost twice as much again.

2

‘Forbidden gin ye wad be, love Colin,
Forbidden gin ye wad be,
And gang nae mair to Clyde's water,
To court yon gay ladie.’

3

‘Forbid me frae your ha, mother,
Forbid me frae your bour,
But forbid me not frae yon ladie;
She's fair as ony flour.

4

‘Forbidden I winna be, mother,
Forbidden I winna be,
For I maun gang to Clyde's water,
To court yon gay ladie.’

5

An he is on his saddle set,
As fast as he could win,
An he is on to Clyde's water,
By the lee licht o the moon.

6

An when he cam to the Clyde's water
He lichted lowly down,
An there he saw the mermaiden,
Washin silk upon a stane.

7

‘Come down, come down, now, Clerk Colin,
Come down an [fish] wi me;
I'll row ye in my arms twa,
An a foot I sanna jee.’

[OMITTED]

8

‘O mother, mother, mak my bed,
And, sister, lay me doun,
An brother, tak my bow an shoot,
For my shooting is done.’

9

He wasna weel laid in his bed,
Nor yet weel fa'en asleep,
When up an started the mermaiden,
Just at Clerk Colin's feet.

10

‘Will ye lie there an die, Clerk Colin,
Will ye lie there an die?
Or will ye gang to Clyde's water,
To fish in flood wi me?’

11

‘I will lie here an die,’ he said,
‘I will lie here an die;
In spite o a' the deils in hell
I will lie here an die.’

390

43
THE BROOMFIELD HILL

394

The Broomfield Hill

THE BROOMFIELD HILL—A

[_]

a. Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 271, ed. 1803. b. Sts. 8-14; the same, II, 229, ed. 1802.

1

There was a knight and a lady bright,
Had a true tryste at the broom;
The ane gaed early in the morning,
The other in the afternoon.

2

And ay she sat in her mother's bower door,
And ay she made her mane:
‘O whether should I gang to the Broomfield Hill,
Or should I stay at hame?

3

‘For if I gang to the Broomfield Hill,
My maidenhead is gone;
And if I chance to stay at hame,
My love will ca me mansworn.’

4

Up then spake a witch-woman,
Ay from the room aboon:
‘O ye may gang to the Broomfield Hill,
And yet come maiden hame.

5

‘For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,
Ye'll find your love asleep,
With a silver belt about his head,
And a broom-cow at his feet.

6

‘Take ye the blossom of the broom,
The blossom it smells sweet,
And strew it at your true-love's head,
And likewise at his feet.

7

‘Take ye the rings off your fingers,
Put them on his right hand,
To let him know, when he doth awake,
His love was at his command.’

8

She pu'd the broom flower on Hive Hill,
And strewd on's white hals-bane,
And that was to be wittering true
That maiden she had gane.

9

‘O where were ye, my milk-white steed,
That I hae coft sae dear,
That wadna watch and waken me
When there was maiden here?’

10

‘I stamped wi my foot, master,
And gard my bridle ring,
But na kin thing wald waken ye,
Till she was past and gane.’

11

‘And wae betide ye, my gay goss-hawk,
That I did love sae dear,
That wadna watch and waken me
When there was maiden here.’

12

‘I clapped wi my wings, master,
And aye my bells I rang,
And aye cry'd, Waken, waken, master,
Before the ladye gang.’

13

‘But haste and haste, my gude white steed,
To come the maiden till,
Or a' the birds of gude green wood
Of your flesh shall have their fill.’

14

‘Ye need na burst your gude white steed
Wi racing oer the howm;
Nae bird flies faster through the wood,
Than she fled through the broom.’

I'll wager, I'll wager

THE BROOMFIELD HILL—B

[_]

Herd, Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 310.

1

‘I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you
Five hundred merks and ten,
That a maid shanae go to yon bonny green wood,
And a maiden return agen.’

2

‘I'll wager, I'll wager, I'll wager with you
Five hundred merks and ten,
That a maid shall go to yon bonny green wood,
And a maiden return agen.’

395

[OMITTED]

3

She's pu'd the blooms aff the broom-bush,
And strewd them on's white hass-bane:
‘This is a sign whereby you may know
That a maiden was here, but she's gane.’

4

‘O where was you, my good gray steed,
That I hae loed sae dear?
O why did you not awaken me
When my true love was here?’

5

‘I stamped with my foot, master,
And gard my bridle ring,
But you wadnae waken from your sleep
Till your love was past and gane.’

6

‘Now I may sing as dreary a sang
As the bird sung on the brier,
For my true love is far removd,
And I'll neer see her mair.’

Broomfield Hills

THE BROOMFIELD HILL—C

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 291.

1

There was a knight and lady bright
Set trysts amo the broom,
The one to come at morning ear,
The other at afternoon.

2

‘I'll wager a wager wi you,’ he said,
‘An hundred merks and ten,
That ye shall not go to Broomfield Hills,
Return a maiden again.’

3

‘I'll wager a wager wi you,’ she said,
‘A hundred pounds and ten,
That I will gang to Broomfield Hills,
A maiden return again.’

4

The lady stands in her bower door,
And thus she made her mane:
‘O shall I gang to Broomfield Hills,
Or shall I stay at hame?

5

‘If I do gang to Broomfield Hills,
A maid I'll not return;
But if I stay from Broomfield Hills,
I'll be a maid mis-sworn.’

6

Then out it speaks an auld witch-wife,
Sat in the bower aboon:
‘O ye shall gang to Broomfield Hills,
Ye shall not stay at hame.

7

‘But when ye gang to Broomfield Hills,
Walk nine times round and round;
Down below a bonny burn bank,
Ye'll find your love sleeping sound.

8

‘Ye'll pu the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew't at his head and feet,
And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
The sounder he will sleep.

9

‘The broach that is on your napkin,
Put it on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That's true love's come and gane.

10

‘The rings that are on your fingers,
Lay them down on a stane,
To let him know, when he does wake,
That's true love's come and gane.

11

‘And when ye hae your work all done,
Ye'll gang to a bush o' broom,
And then you'll hear what he will say,
When he sees ye are gane.’

12

When she came to Broomfield Hills,
She walkd it nine times round,
And down below yon burn bank,
She found him sleeping sound.

13

She pu'd the bloom frae aff the broom,
Strew'd it at's head and feet,
And aye the thicker that she strewd,
The sounder he did sleep.

14

The broach that was on her napkin,
She put on his breast bane,
To let him know, when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

15

The rings that were on her fingers,
She laid upon a stane,
To let him know, when he did wake,
His love was come and gane.

16

Now when she had her work all dune,
She went to a bush o broom,

396

That she might hear what he did say,
When he saw she was gane.

17

‘O where were ye, my guid grey hound,
That I paid for sae dear,
Ye didna waken me frae my sleep
When my true love was sae near?’

18

‘I scraped wi my foot, master,
Till a' my collars rang,
But still the mair that I did scrape,
Waken woud ye nane.’

19

‘Where were ye, my berry-brown steed,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
When my love was sae near?’

20

‘I patted wi my foot, master,
Till a' my bridles rang,
But still the mair that I did patt,
Waken woud ye nane.’

21

‘O where were ye, my gay goss-hawk,
That I paid for sae dear,
That ye woudna waken me out o my sleep
When ye saw my love near?’

22

‘I flapped wi my wings, master,
Till a' my bells they rang,
But still the mair that I did flap,
Waken woud ye nane.’

23

‘O where were ye, my merry young men,
That I pay meat and fee,
Ye woudna waken me out o' my sleep
When my love ye did see?’

24

‘Ye'll sleep mair on the night, master,
And wake mair on the day;
Gae sooner down to Broomfield Hills
When ye've sic pranks to play.

25

‘If I had seen any armed men
Come riding over the hill —
But I saw but a fair lady
Come quietly you until.’

26

‘O wae mat worth you, my young men,
That I pay meat and fee,
That ye woudna waken me frae sleep
When ye my love did see.

27

‘O had I waked when she was nigh,
And o her got my will,
I shoudna cared upon the morn
Tho sma birds o her were fill.’

28

When she went out, right bitter wept,
But singing came she hame;
Says, I hae been at Broomfield Hills,
And maid returnd again.

Lord John

THE BROOMFIELD HILL—D

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 195.

1

‘I'll wager, I'll wager,’ says Lord John,
‘A hundred merks and ten,
That ye winna gae to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again.’

2

‘But I'll lay a wager wi you, Lord John,
A' your merks oure again,
That I'll gae alane to the bonnie broom-fields,
And a maid return again.’

3

Then Lord John mounted his grey steed,
And his hound wi his bells sae bricht,
And swiftly he rade to the bonny broomfields,
Wi his hawks, like a lord or knicht.

4

‘Now rest, now rest, my bonnie grey steed,
My lady will soon be here,
And I'll lay my head aneath this rose sae red,
And the bonnie burn sae near.’

5

But sound, sound was the sleep he took,
For he slept till it was noon,
And his lady cam at day, left a taiken and away,
Gaed as licht as a glint o the moon.

6

She strawed the roses on the ground,
Threw her mantle on the brier,
And the belt around her middle sae jimp,
As a taiken that she'd been there.

7

The rustling leaves flew round his head,
And rousd him frae his dream;

397

He saw by the roses, and mantle sae green,
That his love had been there and was gane.

8

‘O whare was ye, my gude grey steed,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?’

9

‘I pautit wi my foot, master,
Garrd a' my bridles ring,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.’

10

‘Then whare was ye, my bonnie grey hound,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?’

11

‘I pautit wi my foot, master,
Garrd a' my bells to ring,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.’

12

‘But whare was ye, my hawks, my hawks,
That I coft ye sae dear,
That ye didna waken your master,
Whan ye kend that his love was here?’

13

‘O wyte na me, now, my master dear,
I garrd a' my young hawks sing,
And still I cried, Waken, gude master,
For now is the hour and time.’

14

‘Then be it sae, my wager gane,
'Twill skaith frae meikle ill,
For gif I had found her in bonnie broomfields,
O her heart's blude ye'd drunken your fill.’

THE BROOMFIELD HILL—E

[_]

Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, January 1, 1830, p. 7.

1

‘I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, fair maid,
Five hunder punds and ten,
That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower,
An a maid return back agen.’

2

‘I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, kin' sir,
Five hunder punds and ten,
That a maid I'll gang to the bonnie green bower,
An a maid return again.’

3

But when she cam to the bonnie green bower,
Her true-love was fast asleep;
Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
An his breath was wondrous sweet.

4

Sometimes she went to the crown o his head,
Sometimes to the soles o his feet,
Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips,
An his breath was wondrous sweet.

5

She's taen a ring frae her finger,
Laid it upon his breast-bane;
It was for a token that she had been there,
That she had been there, but was gane.

6

‘Where was you, where was ye, my merrymen a',
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
When my true love was here?

7

‘Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk,
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
Whan my true love was here?’

8

‘Wi my wings I flaw, kin' sir,
An wi my bill I sang,
But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep
Till your true love was gane.’

9

‘Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed,
That I do luve sae dear,
That ye didna waken me out o my sleep
When my true love was here?’

10

‘I stampit wi my fit, maister,
And made my bridle ring,
But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep,
Till your true love was gane.’

398

The Merry Broomfield; or, The West Country Wager

THE BROOMFIELD HILL—F

[_]

a. Douce Ballads, III, fol. 64b: Newcastle, printed and sold by John White, in Pilgrim Street. b. Douce Ballads, IV, fol. 10.

1

A noble young squire that livd in the west,
He courted a young lady gay,
And as he was merry, he put forth a jest,
A wager with her he would lay.

2

‘A wager with me?’ the young lady reply'd,
‘I pray, about what must it be?
If I like the humour you shan't be deny'd;
I love to be merry and free.’

3

Quoth he, ‘I will lay you an hundred pounds,
A hundred pounds, aye, and ten,
That a maid if you go to the merry broomfield,
That a maid you return not again.’

4

‘I'll lay you that wager,’ the lady she said,
Then the money she flung down amain;
‘To the merry broomfield I'll go a pure maid,
The same I'll return home again.’

5

He coverd her bett in the midst of the hall
With an hundred and ten jolly pounds,
And then to his servant straightway he did call,
For to bring forth his hawk and his hounds.

6

A ready obedience the servant did yield,
And all was made ready oer night;
Next morning he went to the merry broomfield,
To meet with his love and delight.

7

Now when he came there, having waited a while,
Among the green broom down he lies;
The lady came to him, and coud not but smile,
For sleep then had closed his eyes.

8

Upon his right hand a gold ring she secur'd,
Down from her own finger so fair,
That when he awaked he might be assur'd
His lady and love had been there.

9

She left him a posie of pleasant perfume,
Then stept from the place where he lay;
Then hid herself close in the besom of the broom,
To hear what her true-love would say.

10

He wakend and found the gold ring on his hand,
Then sorrow of heart he was in:
‘My love has been here, I do well understand,
And this wager I now shall not win.

11

‘O where was you, my goodly gawshawk,
The which I have purchasd so dear?
Why did you not waken me out of my sleep
When the lady, my lover, was here?’

12

‘O with my bells did I ring, master,
And eke with my feet did I run;
And still did I cry, Pray awake, master,
She's here now, and soon will be gone.’

13

‘O where was you, my gallant greyhound,
Whose collar is flourishd with gold?
Why hadst thou not wakend me out of my sleep
When thou didst my lady behold?’

14

‘Dear master, I barkd with my mouth when she came,
And likewise my coller I shook,
And told you that here was the beautiful dame,
But no notice of me then you took.’

15

‘O where was thou, my serving-man,
Whom I have cloathed so fine?
If you had wak'd me when she was here,
The wager then had been mine.’

16

‘In the night ye should have slept, master,
And kept awake in the day;
Had you not been sleeping when hither she came,
Then a maid she had not gone away.’

17

Then home he returnd, when the wager was lost,
With sorrow of heart, I may say;
The lady she laughd to find her love crost, —
This was upon midsummer-day.

18

‘O squire, I laid in the bushes conceald,
And heard you when you did complain;
And thus I have been to the merry broomfield,
And a maid returnd back again.

399

19

‘Be chearful, be chearful, and do not repine,
For now't is as clear as the sun,
The money, the money, the money is mine,
The wager I fairly have won.’

44 THE TWA MAGICIANS

THE TWA MAGICIANS

[_]

Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 24; Motherwell's MS., p. 570.

402

1

The lady stands in her bower door,
As straight as willow wand;
The blacksmith stood a little forebye,
Wi hammer in his hand.

2

‘Weel may ye dress ye, lady fair,
Into your robes o red;
Before the morn at this same time,
I'll gain your maidenhead.’

3

‘Awa, awa, ye coal-black smith,
Woud ye do me the wrang
To think to gain my maidenhead,
That I hae kept sae lang!’

4

Then she has hadden up her hand,
And she sware by the mold,
‘I wudna be a blacksmith's wife
For the full o a chest o gold.

5

‘I'd rather I were dead and gone,
And my body laid in grave,
Ere a rusty stock o coal-black smith
My maidenhead shoud have.’

6

But he has hadden up his hand,
And he sware by the mass,
‘I'll cause ye be my light leman
For the hauf o that and less.’

403

O bide, lady, bide,
And aye he bade her bide;
The rusty smith your leman shall be,
For a' your muckle pride.

7

Then she became a turtle dow,
To fly up in the air,
And he became another dow,
And they flew pair and pair.

O bide, lady, bide, &c.

8

She turnd hersell into an eel,
To swim into yon burn,
And he became a speckled trout,
To gie the eel a turn.

O bide, lady, bide, &c.

9

Then she became a duck, a duck,
To puddle in a peel,
And he became a rose-kaimd drake,
To gie the duck a dreel.

O bide, lady, bide, &c.

10

She turnd hersell into a hare,
To rin upon yon hill,
And he became a gude grey-hound,
And boldly he did fill.

O bide, lady, bide, &c.

11

Then she became a gay grey mare,
And stood in yonder slack,
And he became a gilt saddle,
And sat upon her back.

Was she wae, he held her sae,
And still he bade her bide;
The rusty smith her leman was,
For a' her muckle pride.

12

Then she became a het girdle,
And he became a cake,
And a' the ways she turnd hersell,
The blacksmith was her make.

Was she wae, &c.

13

She turnd hersell into a ship,
To sail out ower the flood;
He ca'ed a nail intill her tail,
And syne the ship she stood.

Was she wae, &c.

14

Then she became a silken plaid,
And stretchd upon a bed,
And he became a green covering,
And gaind her maidenhead.

Was she wae, &c.

45
KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP

410

Kinge John and Bishoppe

KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP—A

[_]

Percy MS., p. 184. Hales and Furnivall, I, 508.

1

Off an ancient story Ile tell you anon,
Of a notable prince that was called King Iohn,
In England was borne, with maine and with might;
Hee did much wrong and mainteined litle right.

2

This noble prince was vexed in veretye,
For he was angry with the Bishopp of Canterbury;
Ffor his house-keeping and his good cheere,
Thé rode post for him, as you shall heare.

3

They rode post for him verry hastilye;
The king sayd the bishopp kept a better house then hee:
A hundred men euen, as I [have heard] say,
The bishopp kept in his house euerye day,
And fifty gold chaines, without any doubt,
In veluett coates waited the bishopp about.

411

4

The bishopp, he came to the court anon,
Before his prince that was called King Iohn.
As soone as the bishopp the king did see,
‘O,’ quoth the king, ‘bishopp, thow art welcome to mee.
There is noe man soe welcome to towne
As thou that workes treason against my crowne.’

5

‘My leege,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I wold it were knowne
I spend, your grace, nothing but that that's my owne;
I trust your grace will doe me noe deare
For spending my owne trew gotten geere.’

6

‘Yes,’ quoth the king, ‘bishopp, thou must needs dye,
Eccept thou can answere mee questions three;
Thy head shalbe smitten quite from thy bodye,
And all thy liuing remayne vnto mee.

7

‘First,’ quoth the king, ‘tell me in this steade,
With this crowne of gold heere vpon my head,
Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
Lett me know within one pennye what I am worth.

8

‘Secondlye, tell me without any dowbt
How soone I may goe the whole world about;
And thirdly, tell mee or euer I stinte,
What is the thing, bishopp, that I doe thinke.
Twenty dayes pardon thoust haue trulye,
And come againe and answere mee.’

9

The bishopp bade the king god night att a word;
He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxenford,
But neuer a doctor there was soe wise
Cold shew him these questions or enterprise.

10

Wherewith the bishopp was nothing gladd,
But in his hart was heauy and sadd,
And hyed him home to a house in the countrye,
To ease some part of his melanchollye.

11

His halfe-brother dwelt there, was feirce and fell,
Noe better but a shepard to the bishoppe himsell;
The shepard came to the bishopp anon,
Saying, My Lord, you are welcome home!

12

‘What ayles you,’ quoth the shepard, ‘that you are soe sadd,
And had wonte to haue beene soe merry and gladd?’
‘Nothing,’ quoth the bishopp, ‘I ayle att this time;
Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.’

13

‘Brother,’ quoth the shepeard, ‘you haue heard itt,
That a ffoole may teach a wisemane witt;
Say me therfore whatsoeuer you will,
And if I doe you noe good, Ile doe you noe ill.’

14

Quoth the bishop: I haue beene att the court anon,
Before my prince is called King Iohn,
And there he hath charged mee
Against his crowne with traitorye.

15

If I cannott answer his misterye,
Three questions hee hath propounded to mee,
He will haue my land soe faire and free,
And alsoe the head from my bodye.

16

The first question was, to tell him in that stead,
With the crowne of gold vpon his head,
Amongst his nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
To lett him know within one penye what hee is worth.

17

And secondlye, to tell him with-out any doubt
How soone he may goe the whole world about;
And thirdlye, to tell him, or ere I stint,
What is the thinge that he does thinke.

18

‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ‘you are a man of learninge;
What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a thinge?
Lend me,’ quoth the shepard, ‘your ministers apparrell,
Ile ryde to the court and answere your quarrell.

19

‘Lend me your serving men, say me not nay,
With all your best horsses that ryd on the way;

412

Ile to the court, this matter to stay;
Ile speake with King Iohn and heare what heele say.’

20

The bishopp with speed prepared then
To sett forth the shepard with horsse and man;
The shepard was liuely without any doubt;
I wott a royall companye came to the court.

21

The shepard hee came to the court anon
Before [his] prince that was called King Iohn.
As soone as the king the shepard did see,
‘O,’ quoth the king, ‘bishopp, thou art welcome to me.’
The shepard was soe like the bishopp his brother,
The king cold not know the one from the other.

22

Quoth the king, Bishopp, thou art welcome to me
If thou can answer me my questions three.
Said the shepeard, If it please your grace,
Show mee what the first quest[i]on was.

23

‘First,’ quoth the king, ‘tell mee in this stead,
With the crowne of gold vpon my head,
Amongst my nobilitye, with ioy and much mirth,
Within one pennye what I am worth.’

24

Quoth the shepard, To make your grace noe offence,
I thinke you are worth nine and twenty pence;
For our Lord Iesus, that bought vs all,
For thirty pence was sold into thrall
Amongst the cursed Iewes, as I to you doe showe;
But I know Christ was one penye better then you.

25

Then the king laught, and swore by St Andrew
He was not thought to bee of such a small value.
‘Secondlye, tell mee with-out any doubt
How soone I may goe the world round about.’

26

Saies the shepard, It is noe time with your grace to scorne,
But rise betime with the sun in the morne,
And follow his course till his vprising,
And then you may know without any leasing.

27

And this [to] your grace shall proue the same,
You are come to the same place from whence you came;
[In] twenty-four houres, with-out any doubt,
Your grace may the world goe round about;
The world round about, euen as I doe say,
If with the sun you can goe the next way.

28

‘And thirdlye tell me or euer I stint,
What is the thing, bishoppe, that I doe thinke.’
‘That shall I doe,’ quoth the shepeard; ‘for veretye,
You thinke I am the bishopp of Canterburye.’

29

‘Why, art not thou? the truth tell to me;
For I doe thinke soe,’ quoth the king, ‘by St Marye.’
‘Not soe,’ quoth the shepeard; ‘the truth shalbe knowne,
I am his poore shepeard; my brother is att home.’

30

‘Why,’ quoth the king, ‘if itt soe bee,
Ile make thee bishopp here to mee.’
‘Noe, Sir,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I pray you be still,
For Ile not bee bishop but against my will;
For I am not fitt for any such deede,
For I can neither write nor reede.’

31

‘Why then,’ quoth the king, ‘Ile giue thee cleere
A pattent of three hundred pound a yeere;
That I will giue thee franke and free;
Take thee that, shepard, for coming to me.

32

‘Free pardon Ile giue,’ the kings grace said,
‘To saue the bishopp, his land and his head;
With him nor thee Ile be nothing wrath;
Here is the pardon for him and thee both.’

33

Then the shepard he had noe more to say,
But tooke the pardon and rode his way:
When he came to the bishopps place,
The bishopp asket anon how all things was.

34

‘Brother,’ quoth the shepard, ‘I haue well sped,
For I haue saued both your land and your head;
The king with you is nothing wrath,
For heere is the pardon for you and mee both.’

413

35

Then the bishopes hart was of a merry cheere:
‘Brother, thy paines Ile quitt them cleare;
For I will giue thee a patent to thee and to thine
Of fifty pound a yeere, land good and fine.’

36

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘I will to thee noe longer croche nor creepe,
Nor Ile serue thee noe more to keepe thy sheepe.’

37

Whereeuer wist you shepard before,
That had in his head witt such store
To pleasure a bishopp in such a like case,
To answer three questions to the kings grace?
Whereeuer wist you shepard gett cleare
Three hundred and fifty pound a yeere?

38

I neuer hard of his fellow before.
Nor I neuer shall: now I need to say noe more.
I neuer knew shepeard that gott such a liuinge
But David, the shepeard, that was a king.

King John and the Abbot of Canterbury

KING JOHN AND THE BISHOP—B

[_]

Broadside, printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden Ball in Pye-corner (1672-95).

1

I'll tell you a story, a story anon,
Of a noble prince, and his name was King John;
For he was a prince, and a prince of great might,
He held up great wrongs, he put down great right.
Derry down, down hey, derry down

2

I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury,
And of his house-keeping and high renown,
Which made him resort to fair London town.

3

‘How now, father abbot? 'Tis told unto me
That thou keepest a far better house than I;
And for [thy] house-keeping and high renown,
I fear thou has treason against my crown.’

4

‘I hope, my liege, that you owe me no grudge
For spending of my true-gotten goods:’
‘If thou dost not answer me questions three,
Thy head shall be taken from thy body.

5

‘When I am set so high on my steed,
With my crown of gold upon my head,
Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

6

‘And the next question you must not flout,
How long I shall be riding the world about;
And the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell to me truly what I do think.’

7

‘O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
For I cannot answer your grace as yet;
But if you will give me but three days space,
I'll do my endeavor to answer your grace.’

8

‘O three days space I will thee give,
For that is the longest day thou hast to live.
And if thou dost not answer these questions right,
Thy head shall be taken from thy body quite.’

9

And as the shepherd was going to his fold,
He spy'd the old abbot come riding along:
‘How now, master abbot? You'r welcome home;
What news have you brought from good King John?’

10

‘Sad news, sad news I have thee to give,
For I have but three days space for to live;
If I do not answer him questions three,
My head will be taken from my body.

11

‘When he is set so high on his steed,
With his crown of gold upon his head,
Amongst all his nobility, with joy and much mirth,
I must tell him to one penny what he is worth.

12

‘And the next question I must not flout,
How long he shall be riding the world about;
And the third question I must not shrink,
But tell him truly what he does think.’

13

‘O master, did you never hear it yet,
That a fool may learn a wiseman wit?
Lend me but your horse and your apparel,
I'll ride to fair London and answer the quarrel.’

414

14

‘Now I am set so high on my steed,
With my crown of gold upon my head,
Amongst all my nobility, with joy and much mirth,
Now tell me to one penny what I am worth.’

15

‘For thirty pence our Saviour was sold,
Amongst the false Jews, as you have been told,
And nine and twenty's the worth of thee,
For I think thou are one penny worser than he.’

16

‘And the next question thou mayst not flout;
How long I shall be riding the world about.’
‘You must rise with the sun, and ride with the same,
Until the next morning he rises again,
And then I am sure you will make no doubt
But in twenty-four hours you'l ride it about.’

17

‘And the third question you must not shrink,
But tell me truly what I do think.’
‘All that I can do, and 't will make you merry;
For you think I'm the Abbot of Canterbury,
But I'm his poor shepherd, as you may see,
And am come to beg pardon for he and for me.’

18

The king he turned him about and did smile,
Saying, Thou shalt be the abbot the other while:
‘O no, my grace, there is no such need,
For I can neither write nor read.’

19

‘Then four pounds a week will I give unto thee
For this merry jest thou hast told unto me;
And tell the old abbot, when thou comest home,
Thou hast brought him a pardon from good King John.’

46
CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP

419

I'll no ly neist the wa; or, She'll no ly neist [the] wa

CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP—A

[_]

a. Herd's MS., I, 161. b. The same, II, 100.

1

The laird of Bristoll's daughter was in the woods walking,
And by came Captain Wetherbourn, a servant to the king;
And he said to his livery man, Wer't not against the law,
I would tak her to mine ain bed, and lay her neist the wa.

2

‘I'm into my father's woods, amongst my father's trees,
O kind sir, let mee walk alane, O kind sir, if you please;
The butler's bell it will be rung, and I'll be mist awa;
I'll lye into mine ain bed, neither at stock nor wa.’

3

‘O my bonny lady, the bed it's not be mine,
For I'll command my servants for to call it thine;
The hangings are silk satin, the sheets are holland sma,
And we's baith lye in ae bed, but you's lye neist the wa.

4

‘And so, my bonny lady, — I do not know your name, —
But my name's Captain Wetherburn, and I'm a man of fame;
Tho your father and a' his men were here, I would na stand in awe
To tak you to mine ain bed, and lay you neist the wa.

5

‘Oh my bonny, bonny lady, if you'll gie me your hand,
You shall hae drums and trumpets to sound at your command;
Wi fifty men to guard you, sae weel their swords can dra,
And wee's baith lye in ae bed, but you's lye neist the wa.’

6

He's mounted her upon a steid, behind his gentleman,
And he himself did walk afoot, to had his lady on,
With his hand about her midle sae jimp, for fear that she should fa;
She man lye in his bed, but she'll not lye neist the wa.

420

7

He's taen her into Edinburgh, his landlady cam ben:
‘And monny bonny ladys in Edinburgh hae I seen,
But the like of this fine creature my eyes they never sa;’
‘O dame bring ben a down-bed, for she's lye neist the wa.’

8

‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, ‘and dinna trouble me,
Unless you get to my supper, and that is dishes three;
Dishes three to my supper, tho I eat nane at a’,
Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.

9

‘You maun get to my supper a cherry but a stane,
And you man get to my supper a capon but a bane,
And you man get a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga,
Before I lye in your bed, but I'll not lye neist the wa.’

10

‘A cherry whan in blossom is a cherry but a stane;
A capon when he's in the egg canna hae a bane;
The dow it is a gentle bird that flies wanting the ga;
And ye man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’

11

‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, ‘and dinna me perplex,
Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions six;
Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,
Before I lye in your bed, but I'll not lye neist the wa.

12

‘What is greener than the grass, what's higher than the tree?
What's war than a woman's wiss, what's deeper than the sea?
What bird sings first, and whereupon the dew down first does fa?
Before I lye in your bed, but I'll not lye neist the wa.’

13

‘Virgus is greener than the grass, heaven's higher than the tree;
The deil's war than a woman's wish, hell's deeper than the sea;
The cock sings first, on the Sugar Loaf the dew down first does fa;
And ye man lye in my bed, betweest me and the wa.’

14

‘Hold your tongue, young man,’ she said, ‘I pray you give it oer,
Unless you tell me questions, and that is questions four;
Tell me them as I shall ask them, and that is twa by twa,
Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.

15

‘You man get to me a plumb that does in winter grow;
And likewise a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;
A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn, this night to join us twa,
Before I lye in your bed, but I winna lye neist the wa.’

16

‘There is a plumb in my father's yeard that does in winter grow;
Likewise he has a silk mantle that never waft gaed thro;
A sparrow's horn, it may be found, there's ane in every tae,
There's ane upo the mouth of him, perhaps there may be twa.

17

‘The priest is standing at the door, just ready to come in;
Nae man could sae that he was born, to lie it is a sin;
For a wild boar bored his mother's side, he out of it did fa;
And you man lye in my bed, between me and the wa.’

18

Little kent Grizey Sinclair, that morning when she raise,
'Twas to be the hindermost of a' her single days;
For now she's Captain Wetherburn's wife, a man she never saw,
And she man lye in his bed, but she'll not lye neist the wa.

421

The Earl of Rosslyn's Daughter; or, Lord Roslin's Daughter; or, Captain Wedderburn's Courtship

CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP—B

[_]

a. Kinloch MSS, I, 83, from Mary Barr's recitation. b. Lord Roslin's Daughter's Garland. c. Buchan's MSS, II, 34. d. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 159. e. Harris MS., fol. 19 b, No 14, from Mrs Harris's recitation. f. Notes and Queries, 2d S., IV, 170, “as sung among the peasantry of the Mearns,” 1857.

1

The Lord of Rosslyn's daughter gaed through the wud her lane,
And there she met Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the king.
He said unto his livery-man, Were't na agen the law,
I wad tak her to my ain bed, and lay her at the wa.

2

‘I'm walking here my lane,’ she says, ‘amang my father's trees;
And ye may lat me walk my lane, kind sir, now gin ye please.
The supper-bell it will be rung, and I'll be missd awa;
Sae I'll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’

3

He said, My pretty lady, I pray lend me your hand,
And ye'll hae drums and trumpets always at your command;
And fifty men to guard ye wi, that weel their swords can draw;
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'll lie at the wa.

4

‘Haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray let go my hand;
The supper-bell it will be rung, nae langer maun I stand.
My father he'll na supper tak, gif I be missd awa;
Sae I'll na lie in your bed, at neither stock nor wa.’

5

‘O my name is Captain Wedderburn, my name I'll neer deny,
And I command ten thousand men, upo yon mountains high.
Tho your father and his men were here, of them I'd stand na awe,
But should tak ye to my ain bed, and lay ye neist the wa.’

6

Then he lap aff his milk-white steed, and set the lady on,
And a' the way he walkd on foot, he held her by the hand;
He held her by the middle jimp, for fear that she should fa;
Saying, I'll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay thee at the wa.

7

He took her to his quartering-house, his landlady looked ben,
Saying, Monie a pretty ladie in Edinbruch I've seen;
But sic 'na pretty ladie is not into it a':
Gae, mak for her a fine down-bed, and lay her at the wa.

8

‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye lat me be,
For I'll na lie in your bed till I get dishes three;
Dishes three maun be dressd for me, gif I should eat them a',
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.

9

‘'Tis I maun hae to my supper a chicken without a bane;
And I maun hae to my supper a cherry without a stane;
And I maun hae to my supper a bird without a gaw,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’

10

‘Whan the chicken's in the shell, I am sure it has na bane;
And whan the cherry's in the bloom, I wat it has na stane;
The dove she is a genty bird, she flees without a gaw;
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'll be at the wa.’

11

‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray ye give me owre,
For I'll na lie in your bed, till I get presents four;
Presents four ye maun gie me, and that is twa and twa,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.

422

12

‘'Tis I maun hae some winter fruit that in December grew;
And I maun hae a silk mantil that waft gaed never through;
A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn, this nicht to join us twa,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’

13

‘My father has some winter fruit that in December grew;
My mither has a silk mantil the waft gaed never through;
A sparrow's horn ye soon may find, there's ane on evry claw,
And twa upo the gab o it, and ye shall get them a'.

14

‘The priest he stands without the yett, just ready to come in;
Nae man can say he eer was born, nae man without he sin;
He was haill cut frae his mither's side, and frae the same let fa;
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'se lie at the wa.’

15

‘O haud awa frae me, kind sir, I pray don't me perplex,
For I'll na lie in your bed till ye answer questions six:
Questions six ye maun answer me, and that is four and twa,
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.

16

‘O what is greener than the gress, what's higher than thae trees?
O what is worse than women's wish, what's deeper than the seas?
What bird craws first, what tree buds first, what first does on them fa?
Before I lie in your bed, at either stock or wa.’

17

‘Death is greener than the gress, heaven higher than thae trees;
The devil's waur than women's wish, hell's deeper than the seas;
The cock craws first, the cedar buds first, dew first on them does fa;
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed, and ye'se lie at the wa.’

18

Little did this lady think, that morning whan she raise,
That this was for to be the last o a' her maiden days.
But there's na into the king's realm to be found a blither twa,
And now she's Mrs. Wedderburn, and she lies at the wa.

The Laird of Roslin's Daughter

CAPTAIN WEDDERBURN'S COURTSHIP—C

[_]

Sheldon's Minstrelsy of the English Border, p. 232, as recited “by a lady of Berwick on Tweed, who used to sing it in her childhood, and had learnt it from her nurse.”

1

The laird of Roslin's daughter walked thro the wood her lane,
And by came Captain Wedderburn, a servant to the Queen;
He said unto his serving man, Wer't not agaynst the law,
I would tak her to my ain house as lady o my ha.

2

He said, My pretty ladye, I pray give me your hand;
You shall have drums and trumpets always at your command;
With fifty men to guard you, that well their swords can draw,
And I'll tak ye to my ain bed, and lay you next the wa.

3

‘I'm walking in my feyther's shaws:’ quo he, My charming maid,
I am much better than I look, so be you not afraid;
For I serve the queen of a' Scotland, and a gentil dame is she;
So we'se be married ere the morn, gin ye can fancy me.

4

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘The sparrow shall toot on his horn, gif naething us befa,
And I'll mak you up a down-bed, and lay you next the wa.

5

‘Now hold away from me, kind sir, I pray you let me be;
I wont be lady of your ha till you answer questions three;

423

Questions three you must answer me, and that is one and twa,
Before I gae to Woodland's house, and be lady o your ha.

6

‘You must get me to my supper a chicken without a bone;
You must get me to my supper a cherry without a stone;
You must get me to my supper a bird without a ga,
Before I go to Woodland's house and be lady of your ha.’

7

‘When the cherry is in the bloom, I'm sure it has no stone;
When the chicken's in the shell, I'm sure it has nae bone;
The dove she is a gentil bird, and flies without a ga;
So I've answered you your questions three, and you're lady of my ha.’

[OMITTED]

8

‘Questions three you must answer me: What's higher than the trees?
And what is worse than woman's voice? What's deeper than the seas?’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

9

He answered then so readily: Heaven's higher than the trees;
The devil's worse than woman's voice; hell's deeper than the seas;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

10

‘One question still you must answer me, or you I laugh to scorn;
Go seek me out an English priest, of woman never born;’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

11

‘Oh then,’ quo he, ‘my young brother from mother's side was torn,
And he's a gentil English priest, of woman never born;’
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

12

Little did his lady think, that morning when she raise,
It was to be the very last of all her mayden days;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

425

47
PROUD LADY MARGARET

426

Proud Lady Margaret

PROUD LADY MARGARET—A

[_]

Scott's Minstrelsy, III, 275, ed. 1803. Communicated “by Mr Hamilton, music-seller, Edinburgh, with whose mother it had been a favorite.”

1

'Twas on a night, an evening bright,
When the dew began to fa,
Lady Margaret was walking up and down,
Looking oer her castle wa.

2

She looked east and she looked west,
To see what she could spy,
When a gallant knight came in her sight,
And to the gate drew nigh.

3

‘You seem to be no gentleman,
You wear your boots so wide;
But you seem to be some cunning hunter,
You wear the horn so syde.’

4

‘I am no cunning hunter,’ he said,
‘Nor neer intend to be;
But I am come to this castle
To seek the love of thee.
And if you do not grant me love,
This night for thee I'll die.’

5

‘If you should die for me, sir knight,
There's few for you will meane;
For mony a better has died for me,
Whose graves are growing green.

6

[‘But ye maun read my riddle,’ she said,
‘And answer my questions three;
And but ye read them right,’ she said,
‘Gae stretch ye out and die.]

7

‘Now what is the flower, the ae first flower,
Springs either on moor or dale?
And what is the bird, the bonnie bonnie bird,
Sings on the evening gale?’

8

‘The primrose is the ae first flower
Springs either on moor or dale,

427

And the thristlecock is the bonniest bird
Sings on the evening gale.’

9

[‘But what's the little coin,’ she said,
‘Wald buy my castle bound?
And what's the little boat,’ she said,
‘Can sail the world all round?’]

10

‘O hey, how mony small pennies
Make thrice three thousand pound?
Or hey, how mony salt fishes
Swim a' the salt sea round?’

11

‘I think you maun be my match,’ she said,
‘My match and something mair;
You are the first eer got the grant
Of love frae my father's heir.

12

‘My father was lord of nine castles,
My mother lady of three;
My father was lord of nine castles,
And there's nane to heir but me.

13

‘And round about a' thae castles
You may baith plow and saw,
And on the fifteenth day of May
The meadows they will maw.’

14

‘O hald your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
‘For loud I hear you lie;
Your father was lord of nine castles,
Your mother was lady of three;
Your father was lord of nine castles,
But ye fa heir to but three.

15

‘And round about a' thae castles
You may baith plow and saw,
But on the fifteenth day of May
The meadows will not maw.

16

‘I am your brother Willie,’ he said,
‘I trow ye ken na me;
I came to humble your haughty heart,
Has gard sae mony die.’

17

‘If ye be my brother Willie,’ she said,
‘As I trow weel ye be,
This night I'll neither eat nor drink,
But gae alang wi thee.’

18

‘O hold your tongue, Lady Margaret,’ he said,
‘Again I hear you lie;
For ye've unwashen hands and ye've unwashen feet,
To gae to clay wi me.

19

‘For the wee worms are my bedfellows,
And cauld clay is my sheets,
And when the stormy winds do blow,
My body lies and sleeps.’

The Courteous Knight

PROUD LADY MARGARET—B

[_]

a. Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 91; Motherwell's MS., p. 591. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Introduction, p. lxxxi.

1

There was a knight, in a summer's night,
Appeard in a lady's hall,
As she was walking up and down,
Looking oer her castle wall.

2

‘God make you safe and free, fair maid,
God make you safe and free!’
‘O sae fa you, ye courteous knight,
What are your wills wi me?’

3

‘My wills wi you are not sma, lady,
My wills wi you nae sma,
And since there's nane your bower within,
Ye'se hae my secrets a'.

4

‘For here am I a courtier,
A courtier come to thee,
And if ye winna grant your love,
All for your sake I'll dee.’

5

‘If that ye dee for me, sir knight,
Few for you will make meen;
For mony gude lord's done the same,
Their graves are growing green.’

6

‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid,
O winna ye pity me?
O winna ye pity a courteous knight,
Whose love is laid on thee?’

7

‘Ye say ye are a courteous knight,
But I think ye are nane;
I think ye're but a millar bred,
By the colour o your claithing.

428

8

‘You seem to be some false young man,
You wear your hat sae wide;
You seem to be some false young man,
You wear your boots sae side.’

9

‘Indeed I am a courteous knight,
And of great pedigree;
Nae knight did mair for a lady bright
Than I will do for thee.

10

‘O I'll put smiths in your smithy,
To shoe for you a steed,
And I'll put tailors in your bower,
To make for you a weed.

11

‘I will put cooks in your kitchen,
And butlers in your ha,
And on the tap o your father's castle
I'll big gude corn and saw.’

12

‘If ye be a courteous knight,
As I trust not ye be,
Ye'll answer some o the sma questions
That I will ask at thee.

13

‘What is the fairest flower, tell me,
That grows in mire or dale?
Likewise, which is the sweetest bird
Sings next the nightingale?
Or what's the finest thing,’ she says,
‘That king or queen can wile?’

14

‘The primrose is the fairest flower
That grows in mire or dale;
The mavis is the sweetest bird
Next to the nightingale;
And yellow gowd's the finest thing
That king or queen can wale.

15

‘Ye hae asked many questions, lady,
I've you as many told;’
‘But how many pennies round
Make a hundred pounds in gold?

16

‘How many of the small fishes
Do swim the salt seas round?
Or what's the seemliest sight you'll see
Into a May morning?’

[OMITTED]

17

‘Berry-brown ale and a birken speal,
And wine in a horn green;
A milk-white lace in a fair maid's dress
Looks gay in a May morning.’

18

‘Mony's the questions I've askd at thee,
And ye've answerd them a';
Ye are mine, and I am thine,
Amo the sheets sae sma.

19

‘You may be my match, kind sir,
You may be my match and more;
There neer was ane came sic a length
Wi my father's heir before.

20

‘My father's lord o nine castles,
My mother she's lady ower three,
And there is nane to heir them all,
No never a ane but me;
Unless it be Willie, my ae brother,
But he's far ayont the sea.’

21

‘If your father's laird o nine castles,
Your mother lady ower three,
I am Willie your ae brother,
Was far beyond the sea.’

22

‘If ye be Willie, my ae brother,
As I doubt sair ye be,
But if it's true ye tell me now,
This night I'll gang wi thee.’

23

‘Ye've ower ill washen feet, Janet,
And ower ill washen hands,
And ower coarse robes on your body,
Alang wi me to gang.

24

‘The worms they are my bed-fellows,
And the cauld clay my sheet,
And the higher that the wind does blaw,
The sounder I do sleep.

25

‘My body's buried in Dumfermline,
And far beyond the sea,
But day nor night nae rest coud get,
All for the pride o thee.

26

‘Leave aff your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says,
‘Use it not ony mair;
Or when ye come where I hae been
You will repent it sair.

27

‘Cast aff, cast aff, sister,’ he says,
‘The gowd lace frae your crown;
For if ye gang where I hae been,
Ye'll wear it laigher down.

429

28

‘When ye're in the gude church set,
The gowd pins in your hair,
Ye take mair delight in your feckless dress
Than ye do in your morning prayer.

29

‘And when ye walk in the church-yard,
And in your dress are seen,
There is nae lady that sees your face
But wishes your grave were green.

30

‘You're straight and tall, handsome withall,
But your pride owergoes your wit,
But if ye do not your ways refrain,
In Pirie's chair ye'll sit.

31

‘In Pirie's chair you'll sit, I say,
The lowest seat o hell;
If ye do not amend your ways,
It's there that ye must dwell.’

32

Wi that he vanishd frae her sight,
Wi the twinkling o an eye;
Naething mair the lady saw
But the gloomy clouds and sky.

The Jolly Hind Squire

PROUD LADY MARGARET—C

[_]

Buchan's MSS, II, 95.

1

Once there was a jolly hind squire
Appeard in a lady's ha,
And aye she walked up and down,
Looking oer her castle wa.

2

‘What is your wills wi me, kind sir?
What is your wills wi me?’
‘My wills are [not] sma wi thee, lady,
My wills are [not] sma wi thee.

3

‘For here I stand a courtier,
And a courtier come to thee,
And if ye will not grant me your love,
For your sake I will die.’

4

‘If you die for my sake,’ she says,
‘Few for you will make moan;
Many better's died for my sake,
Their graves are growing green.

5

‘You appear to be some false young man,
You wear your hat so wide;
You appear to be some false young man,
You wear your boots so side.

6

‘An asking, asking, sir,’ she said,
‘An asking ye'll grant me:’
‘Ask on, ask on, lady,’ he said,
‘What may your asking be?’

7

‘What's the first thing in flower,’ she said,
‘That springs in mire or dale?
What's the next bird that sings,’ she says,
‘Unto the nightingale?
Or what is the finest thing,’ she says,
‘That king or queen can wile?’

8

‘The primrose is the first in flower
That springs in mire or dale;
The thristle-throat is the next that sings
Unto the nightingale;
And yellow gold is the finest thing
That king or queen can wile.

9

‘You have asked many questions, lady,
I've you as many told;’
‘But how many pennies round
Make a hundred pounds in gold?

10

‘How many small fishes
Do swim the salt seas round?
Or what's the seemliest sight you'll see
Into a May morning?

[OMITTED]

11

‘There's ale into the birken scale,
Wine in the horn green;
There's gold in the king's banner
When he is fighting keen.’

12

‘You may be my match, kind sir,’ she said,
‘You may be my match and more;
There neer was one came such a length
With my father's heir before.

13

‘My father's lord of nine castles,
No body heir but me.’
‘Your father's lord of nine castles,
Your mother's lady of three;

14

‘Your father's heir of nine castles,
And you are heir to three;
For I am William, thy ae brother,
That died beyond the sea.’

430

15

‘If ye be William, my ae brother,
This night, O well is me!
If ye be William, my ae brother,
This night I'll go with thee.’

16

‘For no, for no, jelly Janet,’ he says,
‘For no, that cannot be;
You've oer foul feet and ill washen hands
To be in my company.

17

‘For the wee wee worms are my bedfellows,
And the cold clay is my sheet,
And the higher that the winds do blow,
The sounder I do sleep.

18

‘Leave off your pride, jelly Janet,’ he says,
‘Use it not any more;
Or when you come where I have been
You will repent it sore.

19

‘When you go in at yon church door,
The red gold on your hair,
More will look at your yellow locks
Than look on the Lord's prayer.

20

‘When you go in at yon church door,
The red gold on your crown;
When you come where I have been,
You'll wear it laigher down.’

21

The jolly hind squire, he went away
In the twinkling of an eye,
Left the lady sorrowful behind,
With many bitter cry.

The Knicht o Archerdale

PROUD LADY MARGARET—D

[_]

Harris's MS., fol. 7, No 3. From Mrs Harris's recitation.

1

There cam a knicht to Archerdale,
His steed was winder sma,
An there he spied a lady bricht,
Luikin owre her castle wa.

2

‘Ye dinna seem a gentle knicht,
Though on horseback ye do ride;
Ye seem to be some sutor's son,
Your butes they are sae wide.’

3

‘Ye dinna seem a lady gay,
Though ye be bound wi pride;
Else I'd gane bye your father's gate
But either taunt or gibe.’

4

He turned aboot his hie horse head,
An awa he was boun to ride,
But neatly wi her mouth she spak:
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

5

‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
Tell me mair o your tale;
Tell me some o that wondrous lied
Ye've learnt in Archerdale.

6

‘What gaes in a speal?’ she said,
‘What in a horn green?
An what gaes on a lady's head,
Whan it is washen clean?’

7

‘Ale gaes in a speal,’ he said,
‘Wine in a horn green;
An silk gaes on a lady's head,
Whan it is washen clean.’

8

Aboot he turned his hie horse head,
An awa he was boun to ride,
When neatly wi her mouth she spak:
Oh bide, fine squire, oh bide.

9

‘Bide, oh bide, ye hindy squire,
Tell me mair o your tale;
Tell me some o that unco lied
You've learnt in Archerdale.

10

‘Ye are as like my ae brither
As ever I did see;
But he's been buried in yon kirkyaird
It's mair than years is three.’

11

‘I am as like your ae brither
As ever ye did see;
But I canna get peace into my grave,
A' for the pride o thee.

12

‘Leave pride, Janet, leave pride, Janet,
Leave pride an vanitie;
If ye come the roads that I hae come,
Sair warned will ye be.

13

‘Ye come in by yonder kirk
Wi the goud preens in your sleeve;

431

When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
You'll gie them a' thier leave.

14

‘Ye come in to yonder kirk
Wi the goud plaits in your hair;
When you're bracht hame to yon kirkyaird,
You will them a' forbear.’

15

He got her in her mither's bour,
Puttin goud plaits in her hair;
He left her in her father's gairden,
Mournin her sins sae sair.

Fair Margret

PROUD LADY MARGARET—E

[_]

Alex. Laing, Ancient Ballads and Songs, etc., etc., from the recitation of old people. Never published. 1829. P. 6.

1

Fair Margret was a young ladye,
An come of high degree;
Fair Margret was a young ladye,
An proud as proud coud be.

2

Fair Margret was a rich ladye,
The king's cousin was she;
Fair Margaret was a rich ladye,
An vain as vain coud be.

3

She war'd her wealth on the gay cleedin
That comes frae yont the sea,
She spent her time frae morning till night
Adorning her fair bodye.

4

Ae night she sate in her stately ha,
Kaimin her yellow hair,
When in there cum like a gentle knight,
An a white scarf he did wear.

5

‘O what's your will wi me, sir knight,
O what's your will wi me?
You're the likest to my ae brother
That ever I did see.

6

‘You're the likest to my ae brother
That ever I hae seen,
But he's buried in Dunfermline kirk,
A month an mair bygane.’

7

‘I'm the likest to your ae brother
That ever ye did see,
But I canna get rest into my grave,
A' for the pride of thee.

8

‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
Leave pride an vanity;
Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,
Sair altered ye maun be.

9

‘O ye come in at the kirk-door
Wi the gowd plaits in your hair;
But wud ye see what I hae seen,
Ye maun them a' forbear.

10

‘O ye come in at the kirk-door
Wi the gowd prins i your sleeve;
But wad ye see what I hae seen,
Ye maun gie them a' their leave.

11

‘Leave pride, Margret, leave pride, Margret,
Leave pride an vanity;
Ere ye see the sights that I hae seen,
Sair altered ye maun be.’

12

He got her in her stately ha,
Kaimin her yellow hair,
He left her on her sick sick bed,
Sheding the saut saut tear.

432

48
YOUNG ANDREW

YOUNG ANDREW

[_]

Percy MS., p. 292. Hales and Furnivall, II, 328.

1

As I was cast in my ffirst sleepe,
A dreadffull draught in my mind I drew,
Ffor I was dreamed of a yong man,
Some men called him yonge Andrew.

2

The moone shone bright, and itt cast a ffayre light,
Sayes shee, Welcome, my honey, my hart, and my sweete!
For I haue loued thee this seuen long yeere,
And our chance itt was wee cold neuer meete.

3

Then he tooke her in his armes two,
And kissed her both cheeke and chin,
And twise or thrise he pleased this may
Before they tow did part in twinn.

4

Saies, Now, good sir, you haue had your will,
You can demand no more of mee;
Good sir, remember what you said before,
And goe to the church and marry mee.

5

‘Ffaire maid, I cannott doe as I wold;
[OMITTED]
Goe home and fett thy fathers redd gold,
And I'le goe to the church and marry thee.

6

This ladye is gone to her ffathers hall,
And well she knew where his red gold lay,
And counted fforth five hundred pound,
Besides all other iuells and chaines:

433

7

And brought itt all to younge Andrew,
Itt was well counted vpon his knee;
Then he tooke her by the lillye white hand,
And led her vp to an hill soe hye.

8

Shee had vpon a gowne of blacke veluett,
(A pittyffull sight after yee shall see:)
‘Put of thy clothes, bonny wenche,’ he sayes,
‘For noe ffoote further thoust gang with mee.’

9

But then shee put of her gowne of veluett,
With many a salt teare from her eye,
And in a kirtle of ffine breaden silke
Shee stood beffore young Andrews eye.

10

Sais, O put off thy kirtle of silke,
Ffor some and all shall goe with mee;
And to my owne lady I must itt beare,
Who I must needs loue better then thee.

11

Then shee put of her kirtle of silke,
With many a salt teare still ffrom her eye;
In a peticoate of scarlett redd
Shee stood before young Andrewes eye.

12

Saies, O put of thy peticoate,
For some and all of itt shall goe with mee;
And to my owne lady I will itt beare,
Which dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye

13

But then shee put of her peticoate,
With many a salt teare still from her eye,
And in a smocke of braue white silke
Shee stood before young Andrews eye.

14

Saies, O put of thy smocke of silke,
For some and all shall goe with mee;
Vnto my owne ladye I will itt beare,
That dwells soe ffarr in a strange countrye.

15

Sayes, O remember, young Andrew,
Once of a woman you were borne;
And ffor that birth that Marye bore,
I pray you let my smocke be vpon!

16

‘Yes, ffayre ladye, I know itt well,
Once of a woman I was borne;
Yett ffor noe birth that Mary bore,
Thy smocke shall not be left here vpon.’

17

But then shee put of her head-geere ffine;
Shee hadd billaments worth a hundred pound;
The hayre that was vpon this bony wench head
Couered her bodye downe to the ground.

18

Then he pulled forth a Scottish brand,
And held itt there in his owne right hand;
Saies, Whether wilt thou dye vpon my swords point, ladye,
Or thow wilt goe naked home againe?

19

‘Liffe is sweet,’ then, ‘sir,’ said shee,
‘Therfore I pray you leaue mee with mine;
Before I wold dye on your swords point,
I had rather goe naked home againe.

20

‘My ffather,’ shee sayes, ‘is a right good erle
As any remaines in his countrye;
If euer he doe your body take,
You'r sure to fflower a gallow tree.

21

‘And I haue seuen brethren,’ shee sayes,
‘And they are all hardy men and bold;
Giff euer thé doe your body take,
You must neuer gang quicke ouer the mold.’

22

‘If your ffather be a right good erle
As any remaines in his owne countrye,
Tush! he shall neuer my body take,
I'le gang soe ffast ouer the sea.

23

‘If you haue seuen brethren,’ he sayes,
‘If they be neuer soe hardy or bold,
Tush! they shall neuer my body take,
I'le gang soe ffast into the Scottish mold.’

24

Now this ladye is gone to her fathers hall,
When euery body their rest did take;
But the Erle which was her ffather
Lay waken for his deere daughters sake.

25

‘But who is that,’ her ffather can say,
‘That soe priuilye knowes the pinn?’
‘It's Hellen, your owne deere daughter, ffather,
I pray you rise and lett me in.’

26

[OMITTED]
‘Noe, by my hood!’ quoth her ffather then,
‘My [house] thoust neuer come within,
Without I had my red gold againe.’

434

27

‘Nay, your gold is gone, ffather!’ said shee,
[OMITTED]
‘Then naked thou came into this world,
And naked thou shalt returne againe.’

28

‘Nay! God fforgaue his death, father,’ shee sayes,
‘And soe I hope you will doe mee;’
‘Away, away, thou cursed woman,
I pray God an ill death thou may dye!’

29

Shee stood soe long quacking on the ground
Till her hart itt burst in three;
And then shee ffell dead downe in a swoond,
And this was the end of this bonny ladye.

30

Ithe morning, when her ffather gott vpp,
A pittyffull sight there he might see;
His owne deere daughter was dead, without clothes,
The teares they trickeled fast ffrom his eye.

31

[OMITTED]
Sais, Fye of gold, and ffye of ffee!
For I sett soe much by my red gold
That now itt hath lost both my daughter and mee!’

32

[OMITTED]
But after this time he neere dought good day,
But as flowers doth fade in the frost,
Soe he did wast and weare away.

33

But let vs leaue talking of this ladye,
And talke some more of young Andrew;
Ffor ffalse he was to this bonny ladye,
More pitty that he had not beene true.

34

He was not gone a mile into the wild forrest,
Or halfe a mile into the hart of Wales,
But there they cought him by such a braue wyle
That hee must come to tell noe more tales.

[OMITTED]

35

[OMITTED]
Ffull soone a wolfe did of him smell,
And shee came roaring like a beare,
And gaping like a ffeend of hell.

36

Soe they ffought together like two lyons,
And fire betweene them two glashet out;
Thé raught eche other such a great rappe,
That there young Andrew was slaine, well I wott.

37

But now young Andrew he is dead,
But he was neuer buryed vnder mold,
For ther as the wolfe devoured him,
There lyes all this great erles gold.

435

49
THE TWA BROTHERS

438

THE TWA BROTHERS—A

[_]

Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 56, No 19.

1

There were twa brethren in the north,
They went to the school thegither;
The one unto the other said,
Will you try a warsle afore?

2

They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till Sir John fell to the ground,
And there was a knife in Sir Willie's pouch,
Gied him a deadlie wound.

3

‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon burn clear,
And wash the blood from off my wound,
And it will bleed nae mair.’

4

He took him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon burn clear,
And washd the blood from off his wound,
But aye it bled the mair.

5

‘Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And lay my body there.’

6

He's taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon kirk-yard,
And dug a grave baith deep and wide,
And laid his body there.

7

‘But what will I say to my father dear,
Gin he chance to say, Willie, whar's John?’
‘Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy him a cask of wine.’

8

‘And what will I say to my mother dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?’
‘Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy her a new silk gown.’

9

‘And what will I say to my sister dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willie, whar's John?’
‘Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy her a wedding ring.’

10

‘But what will I say to her you loe dear,
Gin she cry, Why tarries my John?’
‘Oh tell her I lie in Kirk-land fair,
And home again will never come.’

The Cruel Brother

THE TWA BROTHERS—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 259. From Widow McCormick, January 19, 1825.

1

There was two little boys going to the school,
And twa little boys they be,
They met three brothers playing at the ba,
And ladies dansing hey.

2

‘It's whether will ye play at the ba, brither,
Or else throw at the stone?’
‘I am too little, I am too young,
O brother let me alone.’

3

He pulled out a little penknife,
That was baith sharp and sma,
He gave his brother a deadly wound
That was deep, long and sair.

4

He took the holland sark off his back,
He tore it frae breast to gare,
He laid it to the bloody wound,
That still bled mair and mair.

5

‘It's take me on your back, brother,’ he says,
‘And carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And make me there a very fine grave,
That will be long and large.

6

‘Lay my bible at my head,’ he says,
‘My chaunter at my feet,
My bow and arrows by my side,
And soundly I will sleep.

7

‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
‘My father will ask for me;
You may tell him I am in Saussif town,
Learning my lesson free.

8

‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
‘My mother will ask for me;
You may tell her I am in Sausaf town,
And I'll come home merrily.

9

‘When you go home, brother,’ he says,
‘Lady Margaret will ask for me;
You may tell her I'm dead and in grave laid,
And buried in Sausaff toun.’

439

10

She put the small pipes to her mouth,
And she harped both far and near,
Till she harped the small birds off the briers,
And her true love out of the grave.

11

‘What's this? what's this, lady Margaret?’ he says,
‘What's this you want of me?’
‘One sweet kiss of your ruby lips,
That's all I want of thee.’

12

‘My lips they are so bitter,’ he says,
‘My breath it is so strong,
If you get one kiss of my ruby lips,
Your days will not be long.’

The Twa Brithers

THE TWA BROTHERS—C

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 649. From the recitation of Mrs Cunningham, Ayr.

1

There were twa brithers at ae scule;
As they were coming hame,
Then said the ane until the other
‘John, will ye throw the stane?’

2

‘I will not throw the stane, brither,
I will not play at the ba;
But gin ye come to yonder wood
I'll warsle you a fa.’

3

The firsten fa young Johnie got,
It brought him to the ground;
The wee pen-knife in Willie's pocket
Gied him a deadly wound.

4

‘Tak aff, tak aff my holland sark,
And rive it frae gore to gore,
And stap it in my bleeding wounds,
They'll aiblins bleed noe more.’

5

He pouit aff his holland sark,
And rave it frae gore to gore,
And stapt it in his bleeding wounds,
But ay they bled the more.

6

‘O brither, tak me on your back,
And bear me hence away,
And carry me to Chester kirk,
And lay me in the clay.’

7

‘What will I say to your father,
This night when I return?’
‘Tell him I'm gane to Chester scule,
And tell him no to murn.’

8

‘What will I say to your mother,
This nicht whan I gae hame?’
‘She wishd afore I cam awa
That I might neer gae hame.’

9

‘What will I say to your true-love,
This nicht when I gae hame?’
‘Tell her I'm dead and in my grave,
For her dear sake alane.’

10

He took him upon his back
And bore him hence away,
And carried him to Chester kirk,
And laid him in the clay.

11

He laid him in the cauld cauld clay,
And he cuirt him wi a stane,
And he's awa to his fathers ha,
Sae dowilie alane.

12

‘You're welcome, dear son,’ he said,
‘You're welcome hame to me;
But what's come o your brither John,
That gade awa wi thee?’

13

‘Oh he's awa to Chester scule,
A scholar he'll return;
He bade me tell his father dear
About him no to murn.’

14

‘You're welcome hame, dear son,’ she said,
‘You're welcome hame to me;
But what's come o your brither John,
That gade awa wi thee?’

15

‘He bade me tell his mother dear,
This nicht when I cam hame,
Ye wisht before he gade awa,
That he might neer return.’

16

Then next came up his true-love dear,
And heavy was her moan;
‘You're welcome hame, dear Will,’ she said,
‘But whare's your brither John?’

17

‘O lady, cease your trouble now,
O cease your heavy moan;
He's dead and in the cauld cauld clay,
For your dear sake alone.’

440

18

She ran distraught, she wept, she sicht,
She wept the sma brids frae the tree,
She wept the starns adoun frae the lift,
She wept the fish out o the sea.

19

‘O cease your weeping, my ain true-love,
Ye but disturb my rest;’
‘Is that my ain true lover John,
The man that I loe best?’

20

‘'Tis naething but my ghaist,’ he said,
‘That's sent to comfort thee;
O cease your weeping, my true-love,
And 't will gie peace to me.’

The Twa Brothers; or, The Wood o Warslin

THE TWA BROTHERS—D

[_]

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 59. From the recitation of Mrs W. Arrott, of Aberbrothick.

1

‘O will ye gae to the school, brother?
Or will ye gae to the ba?
Or will ye gae to the wood a-warslin,
To see whilk o's maun fa?’

2

‘It's I winna gae to the school, brother,
Nor will I gae to the ba;
But I will gae to the wood a-warslin,
And it is you maun fa.’

3

They warstled up, they warstled down,
The lee-lang simmer's day;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

4

‘O lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to yon wall fair;
You'll wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
And syne they'll bleed nae mair.

5

‘And ye'll tak aff my hollin sark,
And riv't frae gair to gair;
Ye'll stap it in my bluidy wounds,
And syne they'll bleed nae mair.’

6

He's liftit his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon wall fair;
He's washed his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But ay they bled mair and mair.

7

And he's taen aff his hollin sark,
And riven't frae gair to gair;
He's stappit it in his bluidy wounds,
But ay they bled mair and mair.

8

‘Ye'll lift me up upon your back,
Tak me to Kirkland fair;
Ye'll mak my greaf baith braid and lang,
And lay my body there.

9

‘Ye'll lay my arrows at my head,
My bent bow at my feet,
My sword and buckler at my side,
As I was wont to sleep.

10

‘Whan ye gae hame to your father,
He'll speer for his son John:
Say, ye left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.

11

‘When ye gae hame to my sister,
She'll speer for her brother John:
Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.

12

‘Whan ye gae hame to my true-love,
She'll speer for her lord John:
Ye'll say, ye left him in Kirkland fair,
But hame ye fear he'll never come.’

13

He's gane hame to his father;
He speered for his son John:
‘It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
Learning the school alone.’

14

And whan he gaed hame to his sister,
She speered for her brother John:
‘It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
The green grass growin aboon.’

15

And whan he gaed home to his true-love,
She speerd for her lord John:
‘It's I left him into Kirkland fair,
And hame I fear he'll never come.’

16

‘But whaten bluid's that on your sword, Willie?
Sweet Willie, tell to me;’
‘O it is the bluid o my grey hounds,
They wadna rin for me.’

17

‘It's nae the bluid o your hounds, Willie,
Their bluid was never so red;

441

But it is the bluid o my true-love,
That ye hae slain indeed.’

18

That fair may wept, that fair may mournd,
That fair may mournd and pin'd:
‘When every lady looks for her love,
I neer need look for mine.’

19

‘O whaten a death will ye die, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;’
‘Ye'll put me in a bottomless boat,
And I'll gae sail the sea.’

20

‘Whan will ye come hame again, Willie?
Now, Willie, tell to me;’
‘Whan the sun and moon dances on the green,
And that will never be.’

The Twa Brothers

THE TWA BROTHERS—E

[_]

Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 60.

1

There were twa brothers at the scule,
And when they got awa,
‘It's will ye play at the stane-chucking,
Or will ye play at the ba,
Or will ye gae up to yon hill head,
And there we'll warsel a fa?’

2

‘I winna play at the stane-chucking,
Nor will I play at the ba;
But I'll gae up to yon bonnie green hill,
And there we'll warsel a fa.’

3

They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
A dirk fell out of William's pouch,
And gave John a deadly wound.

4

‘O lift me upon your back,
Take me to yon well fair,
And wash my bluidy wounds oer and oer,
And they'll neer bleed nae mair.’

5

He's lifted his brother upon his back,
Taen him to yon well fair;
He's wash'd his bluidy wounds oer and oer,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.

6

‘Tak ye aff my holland sark,
And rive it gair by gair,
And row it in my bluidy wounds,
And they'll neer bleed nae mair.’

7

He's taken aff his holland sark,
And torn it gair by gair;
He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds,
But they bleed ay mair and mair.

8

‘Tak now aff my green cleiding,
And row me saftly in,
And tak me up to yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.’

9

He's taken aff the green cleiding,
And rowed him saftly in;
He's laid him down by yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.

10

‘What will ye say to your father dear,
When ye gae hame at een?’
‘I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk-style,
Whare the grass grows fair and green.’

11

‘O no, O no, my brother dear,
O you must not say so;
But say that I'm gane to a foreign land,
Whare nae man does me know.’

12

When he sat in his father's chair,
He grew baith pale and wan:
‘O what blude's that upon your brow?
O dear son, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude o my gude gray steed,
He wadna ride wi me.’

13

‘O thy steed's blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your cheek?
O dear son, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude of my greyhound,
He wadna hunt for me.’

14

‘O thy hound's blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your hand?
O dear son, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude of my gay goss-hawk,
He wadna flee for me.’

442

15

‘O thy hawk's blude was neer sae red,
Nor eer sae dear to me:
O what blude's this upon your dirk?
Dear Willie, tell to me;’
‘It is the blude of my ae brother,
O dule and wae is me!’

16

‘O what will ye say to your father?
Dear Willie, tell to me;’
‘I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride,
To dwell in some far countrie.’

17

‘O when will ye come hame again?
Dear Willie, tell to me;’
‘When sun and mune leap on yon hill,
And that will never be.’

18

She turnd hersel right round about,
And her heart burst into three:
‘My ae best son is deid and gane,
And my tother ane I'll neer see.’

The Two Brothers

THE TWA BROTHERS—F

[_]

Buchan's MSS, I, 57; Motherwell's MS., p. 662.

1

There were twa brothers in the east,
Went to the school o Ayr;
The one unto the other did say,
Come let us wrestle here.

2

They wrestled up and wrestled down,
Till John fell to the ground;
There being a knife in Willie's pocket,
Gae John his deadly wound.

3

‘O is it for my gold, brother?
Or for my white monie?
Or is it for my lands sae braid,
That ye hae killed me?’

4

‘It is not for your gold,’ he said,
‘Nor for your white monie;
It is by the hand o accident
That I hae killed thee.’

5

‘Ye'll take the shirt that's on my back,
Rive it frae gair to gair,
And try to stop my bloody wounds,
For they bleed wonderous sair.’

6

He's taen the shirt was on his back,
Reave it frae gare to gare,
And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
But still they bled the mair.

7

‘Ye'll take me up upon your back,
Carry me to yon water clear,
And try to stop my bloody wounds,
For they run wonderous sair.’

8

He's taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon water clear,
And tried to stop his bleeding wounds,
But still they bled the mair.

9

‘Ye'll take me up upon your back,
Carry me to yon church-yard;
Ye'll dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And then ye'll lay me there.

10

‘Ye'll put a head-stane at my head,
Another at my feet,
Likewise a sod on my breast-bane,
The souner I may sleep.

11

‘Whenever my father asks of thee,
Saying, What's become of John?
Ye'll tell frae me, I'm ower the sea,
For a cargo of good wine.

12

‘And when my sweetheart asks of thee,
Saying, What's become of John?
Ye'll tell frae me, I'm ower the sea,
To buy a wedding gown.

13

‘And when my sister asks of thee,
Saying, William, where is John?
Ye'll tell frae me, I'm ower the sea,
To learn some merry sang.

14

‘And when my mother asks of thee,
Saying, William, where is John?
Tell her I'm buried in green Fordland,
The grass growing ower my tomb.’

15

He's taen him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon church-yard,
And dug a grave baith wide and deep,
And he was buried there.

16

He laid a head-stane at his head,
Another at his feet,

443

And laid a green sod on his breast,
The souner he might sleep.

17

His father asked when he came hame,
Saying, ‘William, where is John?’
Then John said, ‘He is ower the sea,
To bring you hame some wine.’

18

‘What blood is this upon you, William,
And looks sae red on thee?’
‘It is the blood o my grey-hound,
He woudna run for me.’

19

‘O that's nae like your grey-hound's blude,
William, that I do see;
I fear it is your own brother's blood
That looks sae red on thee.’

20

‘That is not my own brother's blude,
Father, that ye do see;
It is the blood o my good grey steed,
He woudna carry me.’

21

‘O that is nae your grey steed's blude,
William, that I do see;
It is the blood o your brother John,
That looks sae red on thee.’

22

‘It's nae the blood o my brother John,
Father, that ye do see;
It is the blude o my good grey hawk,
Because he woudna flee.’

23

‘O that is nae your grey hawk's blood,
William, that I do see:’
‘Well, it's the blude o my brother,
This country I maun flee.’

24

‘O when will ye come back again,
My dear son, tell to me?’
‘When sun and moon gae three times round,
And this will never be.’

25

‘Ohon, alas! now William, my son,
This is bad news to me;
Your brother's death I'll aye bewail,
And the absence o thee.’

John and William

THE TWA BROTHERS—G

[_]

a. Taken down lately from the singing of little girls in South Boston. b. Two stanzas, from a child in New York, 1880. Communicated by Mr W. W. Newell.

1

As John and William were coming home one day,
One Saturday afternoon,
Says John to William, Come and try a fight,
Or will you throw a stone?
Or will you come down to yonder, yonder town
Where the maids are all playing ball, ball, ball,
Where the maids are all playing ball?

2

Says William to John, I will not try a fight,
Nor will I throw a stone,
Nor will I come down to yonder town,
Where the maids are all playing ball.

3

So John took out of his pocket
A knife both long and sharp,
And stuck it through his brother's heart,
And the blood came pouring down.

4

Says John to William, Take off thy shirt,
And tear it from gore to gore,
And wrap it round your bleeding heart,
And the blood will pour no more.’

5

So John took off his shirt,
And tore it from gore to gore,
And wrapped it round his bleeding heart,
And the blood came pouring more.

6

‘What shall I tell your dear father,
When I go home to-night?’
‘You'll tell him I'm dead and in my grave,
For the truth must be told.’

7

‘What shall I tell your dear mother,
When I go home to-night?’
‘You'll tell her I'm dead and in my grave,
For the truth must be told.’

8

‘How came this blood upon your knife?
My son, come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of a rabbit I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.’

9

‘The blood of a rabbit couldnt be so pure,
My son, come tell to me:’
‘It is the blood of a squirrel I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.’

10

‘The blood of a squirrel couldnt be so pure,
My son, come tell to me:’
‘It is the blood of a brother I have killed,
O mother, pardon me.’

Perthshire Tredgey

THE TWA BROTHERS—H

[_]

From a copy formerly in the possession of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe. “Copied 1823” is endorsed on the sheet (in the hand which made an insertion in st. 11) and crossed out.

1

Two pretty boys lived in the North,
The went to the school so rare;
The one unto the other said,
We'll try some battle of war.

2

The worselaid up, the worselaid down,
Till John lay on the ground;
A pen-knife out of William's pocket
Gave John a deadly wound.

3

‘O is it for my gold?’ he said,
‘Or for my rich monie?
Or is it for my land sa broad,
That you have killed me?’

4

‘It's neither for your gold,’ he said,
‘Or for your rich monie,
But it is for your land sa broad
That I have killed thee.’

5

‘You'll take [me] up upon your back,
Carry me to Wastlen kirk-yard;
You'ill houk a hole large and deep,
And lay my body there.

6

‘You'll put a good stone ou my head,
Another at my feet,
A good green turf upon my breast,
That the sounder I m[a]y sleep.

7

‘And if my father chance to ask
What's come of your brother John,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

[OMITTED]

8

‘What blood is this upon your coat?
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my grey hound,
It would not run for me.’

9

‘The blood of your greyhound was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my black horse,
It would not hunt for me.’

10

‘The blood of your black horse was near so red,
I pray come tell to me;’
‘It is the blood of my brother John,
Since better canna be.’

[OMITTED]

11

He put his foot upon a ship,
Saying, I am gane our the sea;
‘O when will you come back again,
I pray come tell to me.’

12

‘When the sun and the moon passes over the broom,
That ['s] the day you'll never see.’

THE TWA BROTHERS—I

[_]

Communicated by Mr J. K. Hudson of Manchester. Sung after a St George play regularly acted on All Souls' Day at a village a few miles from Chester, and written down for Mr Hudson by one of the performers, a lad of sixteen. The play was introduced by a song called Souling (similar to a Stephening, see I, 234), and followed by two songs, of which this is the last, the whole dramatic company singing.

1

‘And it's where hast thou been all this night long, my son?
Come tell it unto me.’
‘I have been lying on yonder bull-rushes,
Which lies beneath yond tree.’

2

‘And it's what are the spots on this thy coat, my son?
Come tell it unto me.’
‘They are the spots of my poor brother's blood,
Which lies beneath yonder tree.’

3

‘And it's what didst thou kill thy poor brother for, my son?
Come tell it unto me.’
‘Because he killed two pretty little birds,
Which flew from tree to tree.’

4

‘And it's what will the father say when he comes, my son?
Come tell it unto me.’
‘I will dress me up in sailor's clothes,
And my face he will never see.’

5

‘And it's what wilt thou do with thy pretty little wife, my son?
Come tell it unto me.’
‘I will dress her up in lad[d]ie's clothes,
And she will sail along with me.’

6

‘And it's what wilt thou do with thy children three, my son?
Come tell it unto me.’
‘I will leave them to my poor grandfather to rear,
And comfort [to] him [to be].’

7

‘And it's when shall we see thy face again, my son?
Come tell it unto me.’
‘When the sun and moon shines both at once,
And that shall never be.’

446

50
THE BONNY HIND

The Bonny Hyn

[_]

Herd's MSS, II, fol. 65. “Copied from the mouth of a milkmaid, by W. L, in 1771.”

1

O may she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon gardens green,
And there she spied a gallant squire
As squire had ever been.

2

And may she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon hollin tree,
And there she spied a brisk young squire,
And a brisk young squire was he.

3

‘Give me your green manteel, fair maid,
Give me your maidenhead;
Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel,
Gi me your maidenhead.’

4

He has taen her by the milk-white hand,
And softly laid her down,
And when he's lifted her up again
Given her a silver kaim.

5

‘Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir,
Perhaps there may be nane;
But if you be a courtier,
You'll tell to me your name.’

6

‘I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But new come frae the sea;
I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But when I court 'ith thee.

7

‘They call me Jack when I'm abroad,
Sometimes they call me John;
But when I'm in my father's bower
Jock Randal is my name.’

8

‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad,
Sae loud's I hear ye lee!
Ffor I'm Lord Randal's yae daughter,
He has nae mair nor me.’

9

‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may,
Sae loud's I hear ye lee!
For I'm Lord Randal's yae yae son,
Just now come oer the sea.’

10

She's putten her hand down by her spare,
And out she's taen a knife,
And she has putn't in her heart's bluid,
And taen away her life.

11

And he's taen up his bonny sister,
With the big tear in his een,
And he has buried his bonny sister
Amang the hollins green.

12

And syne he's hyed him oer the dale,
His father dear to see:

447

‘Sing O and O for my bonny hind,
Beneath yon hollin tree!’

13

‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn?
For it you needna care;
There's aught score hyns in yonder park,
And five score hyns to spare.

14

‘Four score of them are siller-shod,
Of thae ye may get three;’
‘But O and O for my bonny hyn,
Beneath yon hollin tree!’

15

‘What needs you care for your bonny hyn?
For it you need na care;
Take you the best, gi me the warst,
Since plenty is to spare.’

16

‘I care na for your hyns, my lord,
I care na for your fee;
But O and O for my bonny hyn,
Beneath the hollin tree!’

17

‘O were ye at your sister's bower,
Your sister fair to see,
Ye'll think na mair o your bonny hyn
Beneath the hollin tree.’

[OMITTED]

51
LIZIE WAN

448

Lizie Wan

LIZIE WAN—A

[_]

Herd's MSS, I, 151; stanzas 1-6, II, p. 78. Herd's Scottish Songs, 1776, I, 91.

1

Lizie Wan sits at her father's bower-door,
Weeping and making a mane,
And by there came her father dear:
‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’

2

‘I ail, and I ail, dear father,’ she said,
‘And I'll tell you a reason for why;
There is a child between my twa sides,
Between my dear billy and I.’

3

Now Lizie Wan sits at her father's bowerdoor,
Sighing and making a mane,
And by there came her brother dear:
‘What ails thee, Lizie Wan?’

4

‘I ail, I ail, dear brither,’ she said,
‘And I'll tell you a reason for why;
There is a child between my twa sides,
Between you, dear billy, and I.’

5

‘And hast thou tald father and mother o that?
And hast thou tald sae o me?’
And he has drawn his gude braid sword,
That hang down by his knee.

6

And he has cutted aff Lizie Wan's head,
And her fair body in three,
And he's awa to his mothers bower,
And sair aghast was he.

7

‘What ails thee, what ails thee, Geordy Wan?
What ails thee sae fast to rin?
For I see by thy ill colour
Some fallow's deed thou hast done.’

8

‘Some fallow's deed I have done, mother,
And I pray you pardon me;
For I've cutted aff my greyhound's head;
He wadna rin for me.’

9

‘Thy greyhound's bluid was never sae red,
O my son Geordy Wan!
For I see by thy ill colour
Some fallow's deed thou hast done.’

10

‘Some fallow's deed I hae done, mother,
And I pray you pardon me;
For I hae cutted aff Lizie Wan's head
And her fair body in three.’

11

‘O what wilt thou do when thy father comes hame,
O my son Geordy Wan?’
‘I'll set my foot in a bottomless boat,
And swim to the sea-ground.’

12

‘And when will thou come hame again,
O my son Geordy Wan?’
‘The sun and the moon shall dance on the green
That night when I come hame.’

Rosie Ann

LIZIE WAN—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 398. From the recitation of Mrs Storie, Lochwinnich.

1

Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
Greitin and making grit mane,
When down by cam her father, saying,
What ails thee Rosie Ann?

2

‘A deal, a deal, dear father,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to mane,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between me and my brither John.’

3

Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
Weeping and making great mane,
And wha cam doun but her mither dear,
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?

449

4

‘A deal, a deal, dear mither,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to mane,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between me and my brither John.’

5

Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
Greiting and making great mane,
And wha came doun but her sister dear,
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?

6

‘A deal, a deal, dear sister,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to mane,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between me and my brither John.’

7

Rosie she sat in her simmer bower,
Weeping and making great mane,
And wha cam doun but her fause, fause brither,
Saying, What ails thee, Rosie Ann?

8

‘A deal, a deal, dear brither,’ she said,
‘Great reason hae I to cry,
For there lyes a little babe in my side,
Between yoursell and I.’

9

‘Weel ye hae tauld father, and ye hae tauld mither,
And ye hae tauld sister, a' three;’
Syne he pulled out his wee penknife,
And he cut her fair bodie in three.

10

‘O what blude is that on the point o your knife,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘It is my horse's, that I did kill,
Dear mother and fair ladie.’

11

‘The blude o your horse was neer sae red,
Dear son, come tell to me:’
‘It is my grandfather's, that I hae killed,
Dear mother and fair ladie.’

12

‘The blude o your grandfather was neer sae fresh,
Dear son, come tell to me:’
‘It is my sister's, that I did kill,
Dear mother and fair ladie.’

13

‘What will ye do when your father comes hame,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I'll set my foot on yon shipboard,
And I hope she'll sail wi me.’

14

‘What will ye do wi your bonny bonny young wife,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I'll set her foot on some other ship,
And I hope she'll follow me.’

15

‘And what will ye do wi your wee son,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I'll leave him wi you, my dear mother,
To keep in remembrance of me.’

16

‘What will ye do wi your houses and lands,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘I'll leave them wi you, my dear mother,
To keep my own babie.’

17

‘And whan will you return again,
Dear son, come tell to me?’
‘When the sun and the mune meet on yon hill,
And I hope that'll neer be.’

450

52
THE KING'S DOCHTER LADY JEAN

The King's Dochter Lady Jean; or, Lady Jean

THE KING'S DOCHTER LADY JEAN—A

[_]

a. Motherwell's MS., p. 657. From the recitation of Mrs Storie, Lochwinnich. b. Motherwell's Minstrelsy, Appendix, p. xxi, No XXIII, one stanza.

1

The king's young dochter was sitting in her window,
Sewing at her silken seam;
She lookt out o the bow-window,
And she saw the leaves growing green, my luve,
And she saw the leaves growing green.

2

She stuck her needle into her sleeve,
Her seam down by her tae,
And she is awa to the merrie green-wood,
To pu the nit and slae.

3

She hadna pu't a nit at a',
A nit but scarcely three,
Till out and spak a braw young man,
Saying, How daur ye bow the tree?

4

‘It's I will pu the nit,’ she said,
‘And I will bow the tree,
And I will come to the merrie green wud,
And na ax leive o thee.’

5

He took her by the middle sae sma,
And laid her on the gerss sae green,
And he has taen his will o her,
And he loot her up agen.

6

‘Now syn ye hae got your will o me,
Pray tell to me your name;
For I am the king's young dochter,’ she said,
‘And this nicht I daurna gang hame.’

7

‘Gif ye be the king's young dochter,’ he said,
‘I am his auldest son;
I wish I had died on some frem isle,
And never had come hame!

8

‘The first time I came hame, Jeanie,
Thou was na here nor born;
I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
And I had been forlorn!

9

‘The neist time I came hame, Jeanie,
Thou was sittin on the nourice knee;
And I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
And I had never seen thee!

10

‘And the neist time I came hame, Jeanie,
I met thee here alane;

451

I wish my pretty ship had sunk,
And I had neer come hame!’

11

She put her hand down by her side,
And doun into her spare,
And she pou't out a wee pen-knife,
And she wounded hersell fu sair.

12

Hooly, hooly rase she up,
And hooly she gade hame,
Until she came to her father's parlour,
And there she did sick and mane.

13

‘O sister, sister, mak my bed,
O the clean sheets and strae,
O sister, sister, mak my bed,
Down in the parlour below.’

14

Her father he came tripping down the stair,
His steps they were fu slow;
‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ he said,
‘Ye're lying far ower low.’

15

‘O late yestreen, as I came hame,
Down by yon castil wa,
O heavy, heavy was the stane
That on my briest did fa!’

16

Her mother she came tripping doun the stair,
Her steps they were fu slow;
‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said,
‘Ye're lying far ower low.’

17

‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame,
Down by yon castil wa,
O heavy, heavy was the stane
That on my breast did fa!’

18

Her sister came tripping doun the stair,
Her steps they were fu slow;
‘I think, I think, Lady Jean,’ she said,
‘Ye're lying far ower low.’

18

‘O late yestreen, as I cam hame,
Doun by yon castil wa,
O heavy, heavy was the stane
That on my breast did fa!’

19

Her brither he cam trippin doun the stair,
His steps they were fu slow;
He sank into his sister's arms,
And they died as white as snaw.

THE KING'S DOCHTER LADY JEAN—B

[_]

Motherwell's MS., p. 275; the first six lines in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 189. From Margery Johnston.

1

Lady Margaret sits in her bow-window,
Sewing her silken seam;
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

2

She's drapt the thimble at her tae,
And her scissars at her heel,
And she's awa to the merry green-wood,
To see the leaves grow green.

3

She had scarsely bowed a branch,
Or plucked a nut frae the tree,
Till up and starts a fair young man,
And a fair young man was he.

4

‘How dare ye shake the leaves?’ he said,
‘How dare ye break the tree?
How dare ye pluck the nuts,’ he said,
‘Without the leave of me?’

5

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘Oh I know the merry green wood's my ain,
And I'll ask the leave of nane.’

6

He gript her by the middle sae sma,
He gently sat her down,
While the grass grew up on every side,
And the apple trees hang down.

7

She says, Young man, what is your name?
For ye've brought me to meikle shame;
For I am the king's youngest daughter,
And how shall I gae hame?

8

‘If you're the king's youngest daughter,
It's I'm his auldest son,
And heavy heavy is the deed, sister,
That you and I have done.’

9

He had a penknife in his hand,
Hang low down by his gair,

452

And between the long rib and the short one
He woundit her deep and sair.

10

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
And fast and fast her ruddy bright blood
Fell drapping on the ground.

11

She took the glove off her right hand,
And slowly slipt it in the wound,
And slowly has she risen up,
And slowly slipped home.

[OMITTED]

12

‘O sister dear, when thou gaes hame
Unto thy father's ha,
It's make my bed baith braid and lang,
Wi the sheets as white as snaw.’

[OMITTED]

13

‘When I came by the high church-yard
Heavy was the stain that bruised my heel,
[OMITTED] that bruised my heart,
I'm afraid it shall neer heal.’

[OMITTED]

Castle Ha's Daughter

THE KING'S DOCHTER LADY JEAN—C

[_]

Buchan's Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, I, 241.

1

As Annie sat into her bower,
A thought came in her head,
That she would gang to gude greenwood,
Across the flowery mead.

2

She hadna pu'd a flower, a flower,
Nor broken a branch but twa,
Till by it came a gentle squire,
Says, Lady, come awa.

3

There's nane that comes to gude greenwood
But pays to me a tein,
And I maun hae your maidenhead,
Or than your mantle green.

4

‘My mantle's o the finest silk,
Anither I can spin;
But gin you take my maidenhead,
The like I'll never fin.’

5

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
There laid her low in gude greenwood,
And at her spierd nae leave.

6

When he had got his wills o her,
His wills as he had taen,
She said, If you rightly knew my birth,
Ye'd better letten alane.

7

‘Is your father a lord o might?
Or baron o high degree?
Or what race are ye sprung frae,
That I should lat ye be?’

8

‘O I am Castle Ha's daughter,
O birth and high degree,
And if he knows what ye hae done,
He'll hang you on a tree.’

9

‘If ye be Castle Ha's daughter,
This day I am undone;
If ye be Castle Ha's daughter,
I am his only son.’

10

‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jelly hind squire,
Sae loud as I hear you lie,
Castle Ha, he has but ae dear son,
And he is far beyond the sea.’

11

‘O I am Castle Ha's dear son,
A word I dinna lie;
Yes, I am Castle Ha's dear son,
And new come oer the sea.

12

‘'Twas yesterday, that fatal day,
That I did cross the faem;
I wish my bonny ship had sunk,
And I had neer come hame.’

13

Then dowie, dowie, raise she up,
And dowie came she hame,
And stripped aff her silk mantle,
And then to bed she's gane.

14

Then in it came her mother dear,
And she steps in the fleer:

453

‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
What makes your lying here?’

15

‘This morning fair, as I went out,
Near by yon castle wa,
Great and heavy was the stane
That on my foot did fa.’

16

‘Hae I nae ha's, hae I nae bowers,
Towers, or mony a town?
Will not these cure your bonny foot,
Gar you gae hale and soun?’

17

‘Ye hae ha's, and ye hae bowers,
And towers, and mony a town,
But nought will cure my bonny foot,
Gar me gang hale and soun.’

18

Then in it came her father dear,
And he trips in the fleer:
‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
What makes your lying here?’

19

‘This morning fair, as I went out,
Near by yon castle wa,
Great and heavy was the stane
That on my foot did fa.’

20

‘Hae I nae ha's, hae I nae bowers,
And towers, and mony a town?
Will not these cure your bonny foot,
Gar you gang hale and soun?’

21

‘O ye hae ha's, and ye hae bowers,
And towers, and mony a town,
But nought will cure my bonny foot,
Gar me gang hale and soun.’

22

Then in it came her sister Grace;
As she steps in the fleer,
‘Win up, win up, now fair Annie,
What makes your lying here?

23

‘Win up, and see your ae brother,
That's new come ower the sea;’
‘Ohon, alas!’ says fair Annie,
‘He spake ower soon wi me.’

24

To her room her brother's gane,
Stroked back her yellow hair,
To her lips his ain did press,
But words spake never mair.

Bold Burnet's Daughter

THE KING'S DOCHTER LADY JEAN—D

[_]

a. Buchan's MSS, I, 120. b. The same, II, 141.

1

The lady's taen her mantle her middle about,
Into the woods she's gane,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

2

She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood,
O never a flower but ane,
Till by he comes, an by he gangs,
Says, Lady, lat alane.

3

For I am forester o this wood,
And I hae power to pine
Your mantle or your maidenhead,
Which o the twa ye'll twine.

4

‘My mantle is o gude green silk,
Another I can card an spin;
But gin ye tak my maidenhead,
The like I'll never fin.’

5

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her low at the foot o a tree,
At her high kin spierd nae leave.

6

‘I am bold Burnet's ae daughter,
You might hae lat me be:’
‘And I'm bold Burnet's ae dear son,
Then dear! how can this dee?’

7

‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire,
So loud's I hear you lie!
Bold Burnet has but ae dear son,
He's sailing on the sea.’

8

‘Yesterday, about this same time,
My bonny ship came to land;
I wish she'd sunken in the sea,
And never seen the strand!

9

‘Heal well this deed on me, lady,
Heal well this deed on me!’
‘Although I would heal it neer sae well,
Our God above does see.’

454

10

She's taen her mantle her middle about,
And mourning went she hame,
And a' the way she sighd full sair,
Crying, Am I to blame!

11

Ben it came her father dear,
Stout stepping on the flear:
‘Win up, win up, my daughter Janet,
And welcome your brother here.’

12

Up she's taen her milk-white hand,
Streakd by his yellow hair,
Then turnd about her bonny face,
And word spake never mair.

53
YOUNG BEICHAN

463

Young Bicham

YOUNG BEICHAN—A

[_]

Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 13.

1

In London city was Bicham born,
He longd strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handld him right cruely.

2

For thro his shoulder he put a bore,
An thro the bore has pitten a tree,
An he's gard him draw the carts o wine,
Where horse and oxen had wont to be.

3

He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
Where he coud neither hear nor see;
He's shut him up in a prison strong,
An he's handld him right cruely.

4

O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
I wot her name was Shusy Pye;
She's doen her to the prison-house,
And she's calld Young Bicham one word by.

464

5

‘O hae ye ony lands or rents,
Or citys in your ain country,
Coud free you out of prison strong,
An coud mantain a lady free?’

6

‘O London city is my own,
An other citys twa or three,
Coud loose me out o prison strong,
An coud mantain a lady free.’

7

O she has bribed her father's men
Wi meikle goud and white money,
She's gotten the key o the prison doors,
An she has set Young Bicham free.

8

She's gi'n him a loaf o good white bread,
But an a flask o Spanish wine,
An she bad him mind on the ladie's love
That sae kindly freed him out o pine.

9

‘Go set your foot on good ship-board,
An haste you back to your ain country,
An before that seven years has an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.’

10

It was long or seven years had an end
She longd fu sair her love to see;
She's set her foot on good ship-board,
An turnd her back on her ain country.

11

She's saild up, so has she doun,
Till she came to the other side;
She's landed at Young Bicham's gates,
An I hop this day she sal be his bride.

12

‘Is this Young Bicham's gates?’ says she,
‘Or is that noble prince within?’
‘He's up the stairs wi his bonny bride,
An monny a lord and lady wi him.’

13

‘O has he taen a bonny bride,
An has he clean forgotten me!’
An sighing said that gay lady,
I wish I were in my ain country!

14

But she's pitten her han in her pocket,
An gin the porter guineas three;
Says, Take ye that, ye proud porter,
An bid the bridegroom speak to me.

15

O whan the porter came up the stair,
He's fa'n low down upon his knee:
‘Won up, won up, ye proud porter,
An what makes a' this courtesy?’

16

‘O I've been porter at your gates
This mair nor seven years an three,
But there is a lady at them now
The like of whom I never did see.

17

‘For on every finger she has a ring,
An on the mid-finger she has three,
An there's as meikle goud aboon her brow
As woud buy an earldome o lan to me.’

18

Then up it started Young Bicham,
An sware so loud by Our Lady,
‘It can be nane but Shusy Pye,
That has come oer the sea to me.’

19

O quickly ran he down the stair,
O fifteen steps he has made but three;
He's tane his bonny love in his arms,
An a wot he kissd her tenderly.

20

‘O hae you tane a bonny bride?
An hae you quite forsaken me?
An hae ye quite forgotten her
That gae you life an liberty?’

21

She's lookit oer her left shoulder
To hide the tears stood in her ee;
‘Now fare thee well, Young Bicham,’ she says,
‘I'll strive to think nae mair on thee.’

22

‘Take back your daughter, madam,’ he says,
‘An a double dowry I'll gi her wi;
For I maun marry my first true love,
That's done and suffered so much for me.’

23

He's take his bonny love by the han,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He's changd her name frae Shusy Pye,
An he's cald her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

465

Young Brechin

YOUNG BEICHAN—B

[_]

Glenriddell MSS, XI, 80.

1

In England was Young Brechin born,
Of parents of a high degree;
The selld him to the savage Moor,
Where they abused him maist cruellie.

2

Thro evry shoulder they bord a bore,
And thro evry bore they pat a tree;
They made him draw the carts o wine,
Which horse and owsn were wont to drie.

3

The pat him into prison strong,
Where he could neither hear nor see;
They pat him in a dark dungeon,
Where he was sick and like to die.

4

‘Is there neer an auld wife in this town
That'll borrow me to be her son?
Is there neer a young maid in this town
Will take me for her chiefest one?’

5

A Savoyen has an only daughter,
I wat she's called Young Brichen by;
‘O sleepst thou, wakest thou, Brichen?’ she says,
‘Or who is't that does on me cry?

6

‘O hast thou any house or lands,
Or hast thou any castles free,
That thou wadst gi to a lady fair
That out o prison wad bring thee?’

7

‘O lady, Lundin it is mine,
And other castles twa or three;
These I wad gie to a lady fair
That out of prison wad set me free.’

8

She's taen him by the milk-white hand,
And led him to a towr sae hie,
She's made him drink the wine sae reid,
And sung to him like a mavosie.

9

O these two luvers made a bond,
For seven years, and that is lang,
That he was to marry no other wife,
And she's to marry no other man.

10

When seven years were past and gane,
This young lady began to lang,
And she's awa to Lundin gane,
To see if Brechin's got safe to land.

11

When she came to Young Brechin's yett,
She chappit gently at the gin;
‘Is this Young Brechin's yett?’ she says,
‘Or is this lusty lord within?’
‘O yes, this is Lord Brechin's yett,
And I wat this be his bridal een.’

12

She's put her hand in her pocket,
And thrawin the porter guineas three;
‘Gang up the stair, young man,’ she says,
‘And bid your master come down to me.

13

‘Bid him bring a bite o his ae best bread,
And a bottle o his ae best wine,
And neer forget that lady fair
That did him out o prison bring.’

14

The porter tripped up the stair,
And fell low down upon his knee:
‘Rise up, rise up, ye proud porter,
What mean you by this courtesie?’

15

‘O I hae been porter at your yett
This thirty years and a' but three;
There stands the fairest lady thereat
That ever my twa een did see.

16

‘On evry finger she has a ring,
On her mid-finger she has three;
She's as much gold on her horse's neck
As wad by a earldom o land to me.

17

‘She bids you send o your ae best bread,
And a bottle o your ae best wine,
And neer forget the lady fair
That out o prison did you bring.’

18

He's taen the table wi his foot,
And made the cups and cans to flee:
‘I'll wager a' the lands I hae
That Susan Pye's come oer the sea.’

[OMITTED]

19

Then up and spak the bride's mother:
‘And O an ill deid may ye die!
If ye didna except the bonny bride,
Ye might hae ay excepted me.’

20

‘O ye are fair, and fair, madam,
And ay the fairer may ye be!
But the fairest day that eer ye saw,
Ye were neer sae fair as yon lady.’

466

21

O when these lovers two did meet,
The tear it blinded baith their ee;
‘Gie me my faith and troth,’ she says,
‘For now fain hame wad I be.’

22

‘Tak hame your daughter, madam,’ he says,
‘She's neer a bit the war o me;
Except a kiss o her bonny lips,
Of her body I am free;
She came to me on a single horse,
Now I'll send her hame in chariots three.’

23

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And he's led her to a yard o stane;
He's changed her name frae Susan Pye,
And calld her lusty Lady Jane.

Young Bekie

YOUNG BEICHAN—C

[_]

a. Jamieson-Brown MS., fol. 11. b. Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 127.

1

Young Bekie was as brave a knight
As ever saild the sea;
An he's doen him to the court of France,
To serve for meat and fee.

2

He had nae been i the court of France
A twelvemonth nor sae long,
Til he fell in love with the king's daughter,
An was thrown in prison strong.

3

The king he had but ae daughter,
Burd Isbel was her name;
An she has to the prison-house gane,
To hear the prisoner's mane.

4

‘O gin a lady woud borrow me,
At her stirrup-foot I woud rin;
Or gin a widow wad borrow me,
I woud swear to be her son.

5

‘Or gin a virgin woud borrow me,
I woud wed her wi a ring;
I'd gi her ha's, I'd gie her bowers,
The bonny towrs o Linne.’

6

O barefoot, barefoot gaed she but,
An barefoot came she ben;
It was no for want o hose an shoone,
Nor time to put them on.

7

But a' for fear that her father dear
Had heard her making din:
She's stown the keys o the prison-house dor
An latten the prisoner gang.

8

O whan she saw him, Young Bekie,
Her heart was wondrous sair!
For the mice but an the bold rottons
Had eaten his yallow hair.

9

She's gien him a shaver for his beard,
A comber till his hair,
Five hunder pound in his pocket,
To spen, an nae to spair.

10

She's gien him a steed was good in need,
An a saddle o royal bone,
A leash o hounds o ae litter,
An Hector called one.

11

Atween this twa a vow was made,
'Twas made full solemnly,
That or three years was come an gane,
Well married they shoud be.

12

He had nae been in's ain country
A twelvemonth till an end,
Till he's forcd to marry a duke's daughter,
Or than lose a' his land.

13

‘Ohon, alas!’ says Young Beckie,
‘I know not what to dee;
For I canno win to Burd Isbel,
And she kensnae to come to me.’

14

O it fell once upon a day
Burd Isbel fell asleep,
An up it starts the Belly Blin,
An stood at her bed-feet.

15

‘O waken, waken, Burd Isbel,
How [can] you sleep so soun,
Whan this is Bekie's wedding day,
An the marriage gain on?

467

16

‘Ye do ye to your mither's bowr,
Think neither sin nor shame;
An ye tak twa o your mither's marys,
To keep ye frae thinking lang.

17

‘Ye dress yoursel in the red scarlet,
An your marys in dainty green,
An ye pit girdles about your middles
Woud buy an earldome.

18

‘O ye gang down by yon sea-side,
An down by yon sea-stran;
Sae bonny will the Hollans boats
Come rowin till your han.

19

‘Ye set your milk-white foot abord,
Cry, Hail ye, Domine!
An I shal be the steerer o't,
To row you oer the sea.’

20

She's tane her till her mither's bowr,
Thought neither sin nor shame,
An she took twa o her mither's marys,
To keep her frae thinking lang.

21

She dressd hersel i the red scarlet,
Her marys i dainty green,
And they pat girdles about their middles
Woud buy an earldome.

22

An they gid down by yon sea-side,
An down by yon sea-stran;
Sae bonny did the Hollan boats
Come rowin to their han.

23

She set her milk-white foot on board,
Cried, Hail ye, Domine!
An the Belly Blin was the steerer o't,
To row her oer the sea.

24

Whan she came to Young Bekie's gate,
She heard the music play;
Sae well she kent frae a' she heard,
It was his wedding day.

25

She's pitten her han in her pocket,
Gin the porter guineas three;
‘Hae, tak ye that, ye proud porter,
Bid the bride-groom speake to me.’

26

O whan that he cam up the stair,
He fell low down on his knee:
He haild the king, an he haild the queen,
An he haild him, Young Bekie.

27

‘O I've been porter at your gates
This thirty years an three;
But there's three ladies at them now,
Their like I never did see.

28

‘There's ane o them dressd in red scarlet,
And twa in dainty green,
An they hae girdles about their middles
Woud buy an earldome.’

29

Then out it spake the bierly bride,
Was a' goud to the chin;
‘Gin she be braw without,’ she says,
‘We's be as braw within.’

30

Then up it starts him, Young Bekie,
An the tears was in his ee:
‘I'll lay my life it's Burd Isbel,
Come oer the sea to me.’

31

O quickly ran he down the stair,
An whan he saw 'twas shee,
He kindly took her in his arms,
And kissd her tenderly.

32

‘O hae ye forgotten, Young Bekie,
The vow ye made to me,
Whan I took you out o the prison strong,
Whan ye was condemnd to die?

33

‘I gae you a steed was good in need,
An a saddle o royal bone,
A leash o hounds o ae litter,
An Hector called one.’

34

It was well kent what the lady said,
That it wasnae a lee,
For at ilka word the lady spake,
The hound fell at her knee.

35

‘Tak hame, tak hame your daughter dear,
A blessing gae her wi,
For I maun marry my Burd Isbel,
That's come oer the sea to me.’

36

‘Is this the custom o your house,
Or the fashion o your lan,
To marry a maid in a May mornin,
An send her back at even?’

Young Beachen

YOUNG BEICHAN—D

[_]

“The Old Lady's Collection,” from which it was copied by Skene, No. 14.

468

1

Young Beachen as born in fair London,
An foiren lands he langed to see,
An he was tean by the savage Mour,
An they used him mast cruely.

2

Throu his shoulder they patt a bore,
An throu the bore they patt a tree,
An they made him tralle ther ousen-carts,
An they used him most cruelly.

3

The savige More had ae doughter,
I wat her name was Susan Pay,
An she is to the prison-house
To hear the prisenor's mone.

4

He made na his mone to a stok,
He made it no to a ston,
But it was to the Quin of Heaven,
That he made his mone.

5

‘Gine a lady wad borrou me,
Att her foot I wad rune,
An a widdou wad borrou me,
I wad becom her sone.

6

‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,
I wad wed her we a ring,
I wad make her lady of haas an bours,
An of the high tours of Line.’

7

‘Sing our yer sang, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘Sing our yer sang to me;’
‘I never sang that sang, lady,
Bat fat I wad sing to ye.

8

‘An a lady wad borrou me,
Att her foot I wad rune,
An a widdou wad borrou me,
I wad becom her son.

9

‘Bat an a maid wad borrou me,
I wad wed her we a ring,
I wad mak her lady of haas an bours,
An of the high tours of Line.’

10

Saftly gaid she but,
An saftly gaid she ben;
It was na for want of hose nor shone,
Nor time to pit them on.

11

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
An she has stoun the kees of the prison,
An latten Young Beachen gang.

12

She gae him a lofe of her whit bread,
An a bottel of her wine,
She bad him mind on the leady's love
That fread him out of pine.

13

She gae him a stead was gued in time of nead,
A sadle of the bone,
Five hundred poun in his poket,
Bad him gae speading home.

14

An a lish of gued gray honds,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]

15

Fan seven lang year wer come an gane,
Shusie Pay thought lang,
An she is on to fair London,
As fast as she could gang.

16

Fan she came to Young Beachen's gate,
[OMITTED]
‘Is Young Beachen att home,
Or is he in this country?’

17

‘He is att home,
[H]is bearly bride him we;’
Sighan says her Susë Pay,
‘Was he quit forgoten me?’

18

On every finger she had a ring,
An on the middel finger three;
She gave the porter on of them,
‘Gett a word of your lord to me.’

19

He gaed up the stare,
Fell lau doun on his knee:
‘Win up, my proud porter,
What is your will we [me]?’

20

‘I ha ben porter att your gate
This therty year an three;
The fairest lady is att yer gate
Mine eays did ever see.’

21

Out spak the brid's mother,
An a haghty woman was she;
‘If ye had not excepted the bonny brid,
Ye might well ha excepted me.’

22

‘No desparegment to you, madam,
Nor non to her grace;
The sol of yon lady's foot
Is fairer then yer face.’

23

He's geen the table we his foot,
An caped it we his knee:
‘I wad my head an a' my land
It's Susie Pay come over the sea.’

24

The stare was therty steps,
I wat he made them three;
He toke her in his arms tua,
‘Susie Pay, y'er welcom to me!’

25

‘Gie me a shive of your whit bread,
An a bottel of your wine;
Dinner ye mind on the lady's love
That freed ye out of pine?’

26

He took her
Doun to yon garden green,
An changed her name fra Shusie Pay,
An called her bonny Lady Jean.

27

‘Yer daughter came hear on high hors-back,
She sall gae hame in coaches three,
An I sall dubel her tocher our,
She is nean the war of me.’

28

‘It's na the fashon of our country,
Nor yet of our name,
To wed a may in the morning
An send her hame att none.’

29

‘It's na the fashon of my country,
Nor of my name,
Bat I man mind on the lady's love
That freed me out of pine.’

469

Young Beichan and Susie Pye

YOUNG BEICHAN—E

[_]

Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 117, compounded from A, a manuscript and a stall copy from Scotland, a recited copy from the north of England, and a short version picked off a wall in London. (The parts which repeat A are in smaller type.)

1

In London was Young Beichan born,
He longed strange countries for to see,
But he was taen by a savage Moor,
Who handled him right cruellie.

2

For he viewed the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewed he,
But to Mahound or Termagant
Would Beichan never bend a knee.

3

So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,
In every bore they've putten a tree,
And they have made him trail the wine
And spices on his fair bodie.

4

They've casten him in a dungeon deep,
Where he could neither hear nor see,
For seven years they kept him there,
Till he for hunger's like to die.

5

This Moor he had but ae daughter,
Her name was called Susie Pye,
And every day as she took the air,
Near Beichan's prison she passed by.

6

O so it fell upon a day
She heard Young Beichan sadly sing:
‘My hounds they all go masterless,
My hawks they flee from tree to tree,
My younger brother will heir my land,
Fair England again I'll never see!’

7

All night long no rest she got,
Young Beichan's song for thinking on;
She's stown the keys from her father's head,
And to the prison strong is gone.

8

And she has opend the prison doors,
I wot she opend two or three,
Ere she could come Young Beichan at,
He was locked up so curiouslie.

9

But when she came Young Beichan before,
Sore wonderd he that may to see;
He took her for some fair captive:
‘Fair Lady, I pray, of what countrie?’

10

‘O have ye any lands,’ she said,
‘Or castles in your own countrie,
That ye could give to a lady fair,
From prison strong to set you free?’

11

‘Near London town I have a hall,
With other castles two or three;
I'll give them all to the lady fair
That out of prison will set me free.’

12

‘Give me the truth of your right hand,
The truth of it give unto me,
That for seven years ye'll no lady wed,
Unless it be along with me.’

470

13

‘I'll give thee the truth of my right hand,
The truth of it I'll freely gie,
That for seven years I'll stay unwed,
For the kindness thou dost show to me.’

14

And she has brib'd the proud warder
Wi mickle gold and white monie,
She's gotten the keys of the prison strong,
And she has set Young Beichan free.

15

She's gien him to eat the good spice-cake,
She's gien him to drink the blood-red wine,
She's bidden him sometimes think on her,
That sae kindly freed him out of pine.

16

She's broken a ring from her finger,
And to Beichan half of it gave she:
‘Keep it, to mind you of that love
The lady bore that set you free.

17

‘And set your foot on good ship-board,
And haste ye back to your own countrie,
And before that seven years have an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me.’

18

But long ere seven years had an end,
She longd full sore her love to see,
For ever a voice within her breast
Said, ‘Beichan has broke his vow to thee:’
So she's set her foot on good ship-board,
And turnd her back on her own countrie.

19

She sailed east, she sailed west,
Till to fair England's shore she came,
Where a bonny shepherd she espied,
Feeding his sheep upon the plain.

20

‘What news, what news, thou bonny shepherd?
What news hast thou to tell to me?’
‘Such news I hear, ladie,’ he says,
‘The like was never in this countrie.

21

‘There is a wedding in yonder hall,
Has lasted these thirty days and three;
Young Beichan will not bed with his bride,
For love of one that's yond the sea.’

22

She's put her hand in her pocket,
Gien him the gold and white monie:
‘Hae, take ye that, my bonny boy,
For the good news thou tellst to me.’

23

When she came to Young Beichan's gate,
She tirled softly at the pin;
So ready was the proud porter
To open and let this lady in.

24

‘Is this Young Beichan's hall,’ she said,
‘Or is that noble lord within?’
‘Yea, he's in the hall among them all,
And this is the day o his weddin.’

25

‘And has he wed anither love?
And has he clean forgotten me?’
And sighin said that gay ladie,
I wish I were in my own countrie!

26

And she has taen her gay gold ring,
That with her love she brake so free;
Says, Gie him that, ye proud porter,
And bid the bridegroom speak to me.

27

When the porter came his lord before,
He kneeled down low on his knee:
‘What aileth thee, my proud porter,
Thou art so full of courtesie?’

28

‘I've been porter at your gates,
It's thirty long years now and three;
But there stands a lady at them now,
The like o her did I never see.

29

‘For on every finger she has a ring,
And on her mid-finger she has three,
And as meickle gold aboon her brow
As would buy an earldom to me.’

30

It's out then spak the bride's mother,
Aye and an angry woman was shee:
‘Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie.’

31

‘O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,
Of all your folly let me be;
She's ten times fairer nor the bride,
And all that's in your companie.

32

‘She begs one sheave of your white bread,
But and a cup of your red wine,
And to remember the lady's love
That last relievd you out of pine.’

33

‘O well-a-day!’ said Beichan then,
‘That I so soon have married thee!
For it can be none but Susie Pye,
That sailed the sea for love of me.’

34

And quickly hied he down the stair;
Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He's taen his bonny love in his arms,
And kist and kist her tenderlie.

35

‘O hae ye taen anither bride?
And hae ye quite forgotten me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her
That gave you life and libertie?’

36

She looked oer her left shoulder,
To hide the tears stood in her ee:
‘Now fare thee well, Young Beichan,’ she says,
‘I'll try to think no more on thee.’

37

‘O never, never, Susie Pye,
For surely this can never be,
Nor ever shall I wed but her
That's done and dreed so much for me.’

471

38

Then out and spak the forenoon bride:
‘My lord, your love it changeth soon;
This morning I was made your bride,
And another chose ere it be noon.’

39

O hold thy tongue, thou forenoon bride,
Ye're neer a whit the worse for me,
And whan ye return to your own countrie,
A double dower I'll send with thee.’

40

He's taen Susie Pye by the white hand,
And gently led her up and down,
And ay as he kist her red rosy lips,
‘Ye're welcome, jewel, to your own.’

41

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He's changed her name from Susie Pye,
And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.

Susan Pye and Lord Beichan

YOUNG BEICHAN—F

[_]

Pitcairn's MSS, III, 159, 1817-25. From the recitation of Widow Stevenson, aged seventy-three: “East Country.”

1

In the lands where Lord Beichan was born,
Amang the stately steps of stane,
He wore the goud at his left shoulder,
But to the Holy Land he's gane.

2

He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Amang the Prudents that was black,
He was na lang in the Holy Land,
Till the Prudent did Lord Beichan tak.

3

The gard him draw baith pleugh and harrow,
And horse and oxen twa or three;
They cast him in a dark dungeon,
Whare he coud neither hear nor see.

4

The Prudent had a fair daughter,
I wot they ca'd her Susy Pye,
And all the keys in that city
Hang at that lady by and bye.

5

It once fell out upon a day
That into the prison she did gae,
And whan she cam to the prison door,
She kneeled low down on her knee.

6

‘O hae ye ony lands, Beichan,
Or hae ye ony castles hie,
Whar ye wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison I wad let thee?’

7

‘Fair London's mine, dear lady,’ he said,
‘And other places twa or three,
Whar I wad tak a young thing to,
If out of prison ye wad let me.’

8

O she has opened the prison door,
And other places twa or three,
And gien him bread, and wine to drink,
In her own chamber privately.

9

O then she built a bonny ship,
And she has set it on the main,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's for to tak Lord Beichan hame.

10

O she's gaen murning up and down,
And she's gaen murnin to the sea,
Then to her father she has gane in,
Wha spak to her right angrily.

11

‘O do ye mourn for the goud, daughter,
Or do ye mourn for the whyte monie?
Or do ye mourn for the English squire?
I wat I will gar hang him hie.’

12

‘I neither mourn for the goud, father,
Nor do I for the whyte monie,
Nor do I for the English squire;
And I care na tho ye hang him hie.

13

‘But I hae promised an errand to go,
Seven lang miles ayont the sea,
And blythe and merry I never will be
Untill that errand you let me.’

14

‘That errand, daughter, you may gang,
Seven long miles beyond the sea,
Since blythe and merry you'll neer be
Untill that errand I'll let thee.’

15

O she has built a bonny ship,
And she has set it in the sea,
And she has built a bonny ship,
It's all for to tak her a long journie.

16

And she's sailed a' the summer day,
I wat the wind blew wondrous fair;
In sight of fair London she has come,
And till Lord Beichan's yett she walked.

472

17

Whan she cam till Lord Beichan's yett,
She rappit loudly at the pin:
‘Is Beichan lord of this bonny place?
I pray ye open and let me in.

18

‘And O is this Lord Beichan's yett,
And is the noble lord within?’
‘O yes, it is Lord Beichan's yett,
He's wi his bride and mony a ane.’

19

‘If you'll gang up to Lord Beichan,
Tell him the words that I tell thee;
It will put him in mind of Susy Pye,
And the Holy Land, whareer he be.

20

‘Tell him to send one bite of bread,
It's and a glass of his gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That loosed him out of prison strong.’

[OMITTED]

21

‘I hae been porter at your yett,
I'm sure this therty lang years and three,
But the fairest lady stands thereat
That evir my twa eyes did see.

22

‘On ilka finger she has a ring,
And on the foremost she has three;
As muckle goud is on her head
As wad buy an earldom of land to thee.

23

‘She bids you send a bite of bread,
It's and a glass of your gude red wine,
Nor to forget the lady's love
That let you out of prison strong.’

24

It's up and spak the bride's mother,
A weight of goud hung at her chin:
‘There is no one so fair without
But there are, I wat, as fair within.’

25

It's up and spak the bride hersel,
As she sat by the gude lord's knee:
‘Awa, awa, ye proud porter,
This day ye might hae excepted me.’

[OMITTED]

26

‘Tak hence, tak hence your fair daughter,
Tak hame your daughter fair frae me;
For saving one kiss of her bonny lips,
I'm sure of her body I am free.

27

‘Awa, awa, ye proud mither,
It's tak your daughter fair frae me;
For I brought her home with chariots six,
And I'll send her back wi coaches three.’

28

It's he's taen the table wi his fit,
And syne he took it wi his knee;
He gard the glasses and wine so red,
He gard them all in flinders flee.

29

O he's gane down the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
Until he cam to Susy Pye;
I wat the tears blinded baith their eyne.

30

He led her up the steps of stairs,
And a' the stately steps of stane,
And changed her name from Susy Pye,
And ca'd her lusty Lady Jane.

31

‘O fye, gar cooks mak ready meat,
O fye, gar cooks the pots supply,
That it may be talked of in fair London,
I've been twice married in ae day.’

YOUNG BEICHAN—G

[_]

Communicated by Mr Alexander Laing, of Newburg-on-Tay, as derived from the recitation of Miss Walker.

[OMITTED]

1

‘O wha's aught a' yon flock o sheep,
An wha's aught a' yon flock o kye?
An wha's aught a' yon pretty castles,
That you sae often do pass bye?’

2

‘They're a' Lord Beekin's sheep,
They're a' Lord Beekin's kye;
They're a' Lord Beekin's castles,
That you sae often do pass bye.’

[OMITTED]

3

He's tane [the] table wi his feet,
Made cups an candlesticks to flee:
‘I'll lay my life 'tis Susy Pie,
Come owr the seas to marry me.’

473

Lord Beichan and Susie Pye

YOUNG BEICHAN—H

[_]

Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 260.

1

Young Beichan was in London born,
He was a man of hie degree;
He past thro monie kingdoms great,
Until he cam unto Grand Turkie.

2

He viewd the fashions of that land,
Their way of worship viewed he,
But unto onie of their stocks
He wadna sae much as bow a knee:

3

Which made him to be taken straight,
And brought afore their hie jurie;
The savage Moor did speak upricht,
And made him meikle ill to dree.

4

In ilka shoulder they've bord a hole,
And in ilka hole they've put a tree;
They've made him to draw carts and wains,
Till he was sick and like to dee.

5

But Young Beichan was a Christian born,
And still a Christian was he;
Which made them put him in prison strang,
And cauld and hunger sair to dree,
And fed on nocht but bread and water,
Until the day that he mot dee.

6

In this prison there grew a tree,
And it was unco stout and strang,
Where he was chained by the middle,
Until his life was almaist gane.

7

The savage Moor had but ae dochter,
And her name it was Susie Pye,
And ilka day as she took the air,
The prison door she passed bye.

8

But it fell ance upon a day,
As she was walking, she heard him sing;
She listend to his tale of woe,
A happy day for Young Beichan!

9

‘My hounds they all go masterless,
My hawks they flee frae tree to tree,
My youngest brother will heir my lands,
My native land I'll never see.’

10

‘O were I but the prison-keeper,
As I'm a ladie o hie degree,
I soon wad set this youth at large,
And send him to his ain countrie.’

11

She went away into her chamber,
All nicht she never closd her ee;
And when the morning begoud to dawn,
At the prison door alane was she.

12

She gied the keeper a piece of gowd,
And monie pieces o white monie,
To tak her thro the bolts and bars,
The lord frae Scotland she langd to see;
She saw young Beichan at the stake,
Which made her weep maist bitterlie.

13

‘O hae ye got onie lands,’ she says,
‘Or castles in your ain countrie?
It's what wad ye gie to the ladie fair
Wha out o prison wad set you free?’

14

‘It's I hae houses, and I hae lands,
Wi monie castles fair to see,
And I wad gie a' to that ladie gay,
Wha out o prison wad set me free.’

15

The keeper syne brak aff his chains,
And set Lord Beichan at libertie;
She filld his pockets baith wi gowd,
To tak him till his ain countrie.

16

She took him frae her father's prison,
And gied to him the best o wine,
And a brave health she drank to him:
‘I wish, Lord Beichan, ye were mine!

17

‘It's seven lang years I'll mak a vow,
And seven lang years I'll keep it true;
If ye'll wed wi na ither woman,
It's I will wed na man but you.’

18

She's tane him to her father's port,
And gien to him a ship o fame:
‘Farewell, farewell, my Scottish lord,
I fear I'll neer see you again.’

19

Lord Beichan turnd him round about,
And lowly, lowly loutit he:
‘Ere seven lang years come to an end,
I'll tak you to mine ain countrie.’

[OMITTED]

474

20

Then whan he cam to Glasgow town,
A happy, happy man was he;
The ladies a' around him thrangd,
To see him come frae slaverie.

21

His mother she had died o sorrow,
And a' his brothers were dead but he;
His lands they a' were lying waste,
In ruins were his castles free.

22

Na porter there stood at his yett,
Na human creature he could see,
Except the screeching owls and bats,
Had he to bear him companie.

23

But gowd will gar the castles grow,
And he had gowd and jewels free,
And soon the pages around him thrangd,
To serve him on their bended knee.

24

His hall was hung wi silk and satin,
His table rung wi mirth and glee,
He soon forgot the lady fair
That lowsd him out o slaverie.

25

Lord Beichan courted a lady gay,
To heir wi him his lands sae free,
Neer thinking that a lady fair
Was on her way frae Grand Turkie.

26

For Susie Pye could get na rest,
Nor day nor nicht could happy be,
Still thinking on the Scottish lord,
Till she was sick and like to dee.

27

But she has builded a bonnie ship,
Weel mannd wi seamen o hie degree,
And secretly she stept on board,
And bid adieu to her ain countrie.

28

But whan she cam to the Scottish shore,
The bells were ringing sae merrilie;
It was Lord Beichan's wedding day,
Wi a lady fair o hie degree.

29

But sic a vessel was never seen;
The very masts were tappd wi gold,
Her sails were made o the satin fine,
Maist beautiful for to behold.

30

But whan the lady cam on shore,
Attended wi her pages three,
Her shoon were of the beaten gowd,
And she a lady of great beautie.

31

Then to the skipper she did say,
‘Can ye this answer gie to me?
Where are Lord Beichan's lands sae braid?
He surely lives in this countrie.’

32

Then up bespak the skipper bold,
For he could speak the Turkish tongue:
‘Lord Beichan lives not far away;
This is the day of his wedding.’

33

‘If ye will guide me to Beichan's yetts,
I will ye well reward,’ said she;
Then she and all her pages went,
A very gallant companie.

34

When she cam to Lord Beichan's yetts,
She tirld gently at the pin;
Sae ready was the proud porter
To let the wedding guests come in.

35

‘Is this Lord Beichan's house,’ she says,
‘Or is that noble lord within?’
‘Yes, he is gane into the hall,
With his brave bride and monie ane.’

36

‘Ye'll bid him send me a piece of bread,
Bot and a cup of his best wine;
And bid him mind the lady's love
That ance did lowse him out o pyne.’

37

Then in and cam the porter bold,
I wat he gae three shouts and three:
‘The fairest lady stands at your yetts
That ever my twa een did see.’

38

Then up bespak the bride's mither,
I wat an angry woman was she:
‘You micht hae excepted our bonnie bride,
Tho she'd been three times as fair as she.’

39

‘My dame, your daughter's fair enough,
And aye the fairer mot she be!
But the fairest time that eer she was,
She'll na compare wi this ladie.

40

‘She has a gowd ring on ilka finger,
And on her mid-finger she has three;
She has as meikle gowd upon her head
As wad buy an earldom o land to thee.

475

41

‘My lord, she begs some o your bread,
Bot and a cup o your best wine,
And bids you mind the lady's love
That ance did lowse ye out o pyne.’

42

Then up and started Lord Beichan,
I wat he made the table flee:
‘I wad gie a' my yearlie rent
'Twere Susie Pye come owre the sea.’

43

Syne up bespak the bride's mother,
She was never heard to speak sae free:
‘Ye'll no forsake my ae dochter,
Tho Susie Pye has crossd the sea?’

44

‘Tak hame, tak hame, your dochter, madam,
For she is neer the waur o me;
She cam to me on horseback riding,
And she sall gang hame in chariot free.’

45

He's tane Susie Pye by the milk-white hand,
And led her thro his halls sae hie:
‘Ye're now Lord Beichan's lawful wife,
And thrice ye're welcome unto me.’

46

Lord Beichan prepard for another wedding,
Wi baith their hearts sae fu o glee;
Says, ‘I'll range na mair in foreign lands,
Sin Susie Pye has crossd the sea.

47

‘Fy! gar a' our cooks mak ready,
And fy! gar a' our pipers play,
And fy! gar trumpets gae thro the toun,
That Lord Beichan's wedded twice in a day!’

YOUNG BEICHAN—I

[_]

Communicated by Mr David Louden, as recited by Mrs Dodds, Morham, Haddington, the reciter being above seventy in 1873.

1

In London was Young Bechin born,
Foreign nations he longed to see;
He passed through many kingdoms great,
At length he came unto Turkie.

2

He viewed the fashions of that land,
The ways of worship viewed he,
But unto any of their gods
He would not so much as bow the knee.

3

On every shoulder they made a bore,
In every bore they put a tree,
Then they made him the winepress tread,
And all in spite of his fair bodie.

4

They put him into a deep dungeon,
Where he could neither hear nor see,
And for seven years they kept him there,
Till for hunger he was like to die.

5

Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair,
Yet never a man to her came nigh;
And every day she took the air,
Near to his prison she passed by.

6

One day she heard Young Bechin sing
A song that pleased her so well,
No rest she got till she came to him,
All in his lonely prison cell.

7

‘I have a hall in London town,
With other buildings two or three,
And I'll give them all to the ladye fair
That from this dungeon shall set me free.’

8

She stole the keys from her dad's head,
And if she oped one door ay she opened three,
Till she Young Bechin could find out,
He was locked up so curiouslie.

[OMITTED]

9

‘I've been a porter at your gate
This thirty years now, ay and three;
There stands a ladye at your gate,
The like of her I neer did see.

10

‘On every finger she has a ring,
On the mid-finger she has three;
She's as much gold about her brow
As would an earldom buy to me.’

[OMITTED]

11

He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
He gently led her through the green;
He changed her name from Susie Pie,
An he's called her lovely Ladye Jean.

476

YOUNG BEICHAN—J

[_]

Dr Joseph Robertson's Note-Book, “Adversaria,” p. 85. From tradition.

[OMITTED]

1

She's taen the keys frae her fadder's coffer,
Tho he keeps them most sacredlie,
And she has opend the prison strong,
And set Young Beichan at libertie.

[OMITTED]

2

[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
‘Gae up the countrie, my chile,’ she says,
‘Till your fadder's wrath be turned from thee.’

[OMITTED]

3

She's put her han intill her purse,
And gave the porter guineas three;
Says, ‘Tak ye that, ye proud porter,
And tell your master to speak wi me.

4

‘Ye'll bid him bring a shower o his best love,
But and a bottle o his wine,
And do to me as I did to him in time past,
And brought him out o muckle pine.’

5

He's taen the table wi his foot,
And he has keppit it wi his knee:
‘I'll wager my life and a' my lan,
It's Susan Pie come ower the sea.

6

‘Rise up, rise up, my bonnie bride,
Ye're neither better nor waur for me;
Ye cam to me on a horse and saddle,
But ye may gang back in a coach and three.’

YOUNG BEICHAN—K

[_]

Communicated by Mr David Louden, as obtained from Mrs Dickson, Rentonhall.

[OMITTED]

1

‘There is a marriage in yonder hall,
Has lasted thirty days and three;
The bridegroom winna bed the bride,
For the sake of one that's owre the sea.’

[OMITTED]

2

‘What news, what news, my brave young porter?
What news, what news have ye for me?’
‘As beautiful a ladye stands at your gate
As eer my two eyes yet did see.’

3

‘A slice of bread to her get ready,
And a bottle of the best of wine;
Not to forget that fair young ladye
Who did release thee out of close confine.’

4

Lord Bechin in a passion flew,
And rent himself like a sword in three,
Saying, ‘I would give all my father's riches
If my Sophia was 'cross the sea.’

5

Up spoke the young bride's mother,
Who never was heard to speak so free,
Saying, ‘I hope you'll not forget my only daughter,
Though your Sophia be 'cross the sea.’

6

‘I own a bride I've wed your daughter,
She's nothing else the worse of me;
She came to me on a horse and saddle,
She may go back in a coach and three.’

Lord Bateman

YOUNG BEICHAN—L

[_]

The Loving Ballad of Lord Bateman. Illustrated by George Cruikshank. 1839.

1

Lord Bateman was a noble lord,
A noble lord of high degree;
He shipped himself on board a ship,
Some foreign country he would go see.

2

He sailed East, and he sailed West,
Until he came to proud Turkey,
When he was taken and put to prison,
Until his life was almost gone.

3

And in this prison there grew a tree,
It grew so stout and strong,
Where he was chained by the middle,
Until his life was almost gone.

4

This Turk he had one only daughter,
The fairest creature my eyes did see;
She stole the keys of her father's prison,
And swore Lord Bateman she would set free.

5

‘Have you got houses? Have you got lands?
Or does Northumberland belong to thee?
What would you give to the fair young lady
That out of prison would set you free?’

6

‘I have got houses, I have got lands,
And half Northumberland belongs to me;
I'll give it all to the fair young lady
That out of prison would set me free.’

7

O then she took me to her father's hall,
And gave to me the best of wine,
And every health she drank unto him,
‘I wish, Lord Bateman, that you were mine!

8

‘Now in seven years I'll make a vow,
And seven years I'll keep it strong,
If you'll wed with no other woman,
I will wed with no other man.’

9

O then she took him to her father's harbour,
And gave to him a ship of fame:
‘Farewell, farewell to you, Lord Bateman,
I'm afraid I neer shall see you again.’

10

Now seven long years are gone and past,
And fourteen days, well known to thee;
She packed up all her gay clothing,
And swore Lord Bateman she would go see.

11

But when she came to Lord Bateman's castle,
So boldly she did ring the bell;
‘Who's there, who's there?’ cried the proud porter,
‘Who's there? come unto me tell.’

12

‘O is this Lord Bateman's castle?
Or is his Lordship here within?’
‘O yes, O yes,’ cried the young porter,
‘He's just now taken his new bride in.’

13

‘O tell him to send me a slice of bread,
And a bottle of the best wine,
And not forgetting the fair young lady
Who did release him when close confined.’

14

Away, away, went this proud young porter,
Away, away, and away went he,
Until he came to Lord Bateman's chamber;
Down on his bended knees fell he.

15

‘What news, what news, my proud young porter?
What news hast thou brought unto me?’
‘There is the fairest of all young creatures
That eer my two eyes did see.

16

‘She has got rings on every finger,
And round one of them she has got three,
And as much gay clothing round her
As would buy all Northumberland free.

17

‘She bids you send her a slice of bread,
And a bottle of the best wine,
And not forgetting the fair young lady
Who did release you when close confined.’

18

Lord Bateman he then in a passion flew,
And broke his sword in splinters three,
Saying, I will give all my father's riches,
That if Sophia has crossed the sea.

19

Then up spoke the young bride'[s] mother,
Who never was heard to speak so free:
You'll not forget my only daughter,
That if Sophia has crossed the sea.

20

‘I own I made a bride of your daughter;
She's neither the better or worse for me;
She came to me with her horse and saddle,
She may go back in her coach and three.’

21

Lord Bateman prepared another marriage,
With both their hearts so full of glee:
‘I'll range no more in foreign countries,
Now since Sophia has crossed the sea.’

Pitts, Seven Dials.

478

Young Bondwell

YOUNG BEICHAN—M

[_]

Buchan's MSS, I, 18. J. H. Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 1.

1

Young Bonwell was a squire's ae son,
And a squire's ae son was he;
He went abroad to a foreign land,
To serve for meat and fee.

2

He hadna been in that country
A twalmonth and a day,
Till he was cast in prison strong,
For the sake of a lovely may.

3

‘O if my father get word of this,
At hame in his ain country,
He'll send red gowd for my relief,
And a bag o white money.

4

‘O gin an earl woud borrow me,
At his bridle I woud rin;
Or gin a widow woud borrow me,
I'd swear to be her son.

5

‘Or gin a may woud borrow me,
I'd wed her wi a ring,
Infeft her wi the ha's and bowers
O the bonny towers o Linne.’

6

But it fell ance upon a day
Dame Essels she thought lang,
And she is to the jail-house door,
To hear Young Bondwell's sang.

7

‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny Bondwell,
The sang ye sang just now:’
‘I never sang the sang, lady,
But I woud war 'ton you.

8

‘O gin my father get word o this,
At hame in his ain country,
He'll send red gowd for my relief,
And a bag o white money.

9

‘O gin an earl woud borrow me,
At his bridle I woud rin;
Or gin a widow would borrow me,
I'd swear to be her son.

10

‘Or gin a may woud borrow me,
I woud wed her wi a ring,
Infeft her wi the ha's and bowers
O the bonny towers o Linne.’

11

She's stole the keys o the jail-house door,
Where under the bed they lay;
She's opend to him the jail-house door,
And set Young Bondwell free.

12

She gae'm a steed was swift in need,
A saddle o royal ben,
A hunder pund o pennies round,
Bade him gae roav an spend.

13

A couple o hounds o ae litter,
And Cain they ca'd the one;
Twa gay gos-hawks she gae likeways,
To keep him onthought lang.

14

When mony days were past and gane,
Dame Essels thought fell lang,
And she is to her lonely bower,
To shorten her wi a sang.

15

The sang had such a melody,
It lulld her fast asleep;
Up starts a woman, clad in green,
And stood at her bed-feet.

16

‘Win up, win up, Dame Essels,’ she says,
‘This day ye sleep ower lang;
The morn is the squire's wedding day,
In the bonny towers o Linne.

17

‘Ye'll dress yoursell in the robes o green,
Your maids in robes sae fair,
And ye'll put girdles about their middles,
Sae costly, rich and rare.

18

‘Ye'll take your maries alang wi you,
Till ye come to yon strand;
There ye'll see a ship, wi sails all up,
Come sailing to dry land.

19

‘Ye'll take a wand into your hand,
Ye'll stroke her round about,
And ye'll take God your pilot to be,
To drown ye'll take nae doubt.’

20

Then up it raise her Dame Essels,
Sought water to wash her hands,
But aye the faster that she washd,
The tears they trickling ran.

21

Then in it came her father dear,
And in the floor steps he:
‘What ails Dame Essels, my daughter dear,
Ye weep sae bitterlie?

22

‘Want ye a small fish frae the flood,
Or turtle frae the sea?
Or is there man in a' my realm
This day has offended thee?’

23

‘I want nae small fish frae the flood,
Nor turtle frae the sea;
But Young Bondwell, your ain prisoner,
This day has offended me.’

24

Her father turnd him round about,
A solemn oath sware he:
‘If this be true ye tell me now
High hanged he shall be.

25

‘To-morrow morning he shall be
Hung high upon a tree:’
Dame Essels whisperd to hersel,
‘Father, ye've made a lie.’

479

26

She dressd hersel in robes o green,
Her maids in robes sae fair,
Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
Sae costly, rich and rare.

27

She's taen her mantle her about,
A maiden in every hand;
They saw a ship, wi sails a' up,
Come sailing to dry land.

28

She's taen a wand intill her hand,
And stroked her round about,
And she's taen God her pilot to be,
To drown she took nae doubt.

29

So they saild on, and further on,
Till to the water o Tay;
There they spied a bonny little boy,
Was watering his steeds sae gay.

30

‘What news, what news, my little boy,
What news hae ye to me?
Are there any weddings in this place,
Or any gaun to be?’

31

‘There is a wedding in this place,
A wedding very soon;
The morn's the young squire's wedding day,
In the bonny towers of Linne.’

32

O then she walked alang the way
To see what coud be seen,
And there she saw the proud porter,
Drest in a mantle green.

33

‘What news, what news, porter?’ she said,
‘What news hae ye to me?
Are there any weddings in this place,
Or any gaun to be?’

34

‘There is a wedding in this place,
A wedding very soon;
The morn is Young Bondwell's wedding day,
The bonny squire o Linne.’

35

‘Gae to your master, porter,’ she said,
‘Gae ye right speedilie;
Bid him come and speak wi a maid
That wishes his face to see.’

36

The porter's up to his master gane,
Fell low down on his knee;
‘Win up, win up, my porter,’ he said,
‘Why bow ye low to me?’

37

‘I hae been porter at your yetts
These thirty years and three,
But fairer maids than's at them now
My eyes did never see.

38

‘The foremost she is drest in green,
The rest in fine attire,
Wi gowden girdles round their middles,
Well worth a sheriff's hire.’

39

Then out it speaks Bondwell's own bride,
Was a' gowd to the chin;
‘They canno be fairer thereout,’ she says,
‘Than we that are therein.’

40

‘There is a difference, my dame,’ he said,
‘'Tween that ladye's colour and yours;
As much difference as you were a stock,
She o the lily flowers.’

41

Then out it speaks him Young Bondwell,
An angry man was he:
‘Cast up the yetts baith wide an braid,
These ladies I may see.’

42

Quickly up stairs Dame Essel's gane,
Her maidens next her wi;
Then said the bride, This lady's face
Shows the porter's tauld nae lie.

43

The lady unto Bondwell spake,
These words pronounced she:
O hearken, hearken, fause Bondwell,
These words that I tell thee.

44

Is this the way ye keep your vows
That ye did make to me,
When your feet were in iron fetters,
Ae foot ye coudna flee?

45

I stole the keys o the jail-house door
Frae under the bed they lay,
And opend up the jail-house door,
Set you at liberty.

46

Gae you a steed was swift in need,
A saddle o royal ben,
A hunder pund o pennies round,
Bade you gae rove an spend.

47

A couple o hounds o ae litter,
Cain they ca'ed the ane,
Twa gay gos-hawks as swift's eer flew,
To keep you onthought lang.

48

But since this day ye've broke your vow,
For which ye're sair to blame,
And since nae mair I'll get o you,
O Cain, will ye gae hame?

49

‘O Cain! O Cain!’ the lady cried,
And Cain did her ken;
They baith flappd round the lady's knee,
Like a couple o armed men.

50

He's to his bride wi hat in hand,
And haild her courteouslie:
‘Sit down by me, my bonny Bondwell,
What makes this courtesie?’

51

‘An asking, asking, fair lady,
An asking ye'll grant me;’
‘Ask on, ask on, my bonny Bondwell,
What may your askings be?’

480

52

‘Five hundred pounds to you I'll gie,
Of gowd an white monie,
If ye'll wed John, my ain cousin;
He looks as fair as me.’

53

‘Keep well your monie, Bondwell,’ she said,
‘Nae monie I ask o thee;
Your cousin John was my first love,
My husband now he's be.’

54

Bondwell was married at morning ear,
John in the afternoon;
Dame Essels is lady ower a' the bowers
And the high towers o Linne.

Susan Py, or Young Bichen's Garland

YOUNG BEICHAN—N

[_]

a. Falkirk, printed by T. Johnston, 1815. b. Stirling, M. Randall.

1

In London was Young Bichen born,
He longd strange lands to see;
He set his foot on good ship-board,
And he sailed over the sea.

2

He had not been in a foreign land
A day but only three,
Till he was taken by a savage Moor,
And they used him most cruelly.

3

In every shoulder they put a pin,
To every pin they put a tree;
They made him draw the plow and cart,
Like horse and oxen in his country.

4

He had not servd the savage Moor
A week, nay scarcely but only three,
Till he has casten him in prison strong,
Till he with hunger was like to die.

5

It fell out once upon a day
That Young Bichen he made his moan,
As he lay bound in irons strong,
In a dark and deep dungeon.

6

‘An I were again in fair England,
As many merry day I have been,
Then I would curb my roving youth
No more to see a strange land.

7

‘O an I were free again now,
And my feet well set on the sea,
I would live in peace in my own country,
And a foreign land I no more would see.’

8

The savage Moor had but one daughter,
I wot her name was Susan Py;
She heard Young Bichen make his moan,
At the prison-door as she past by.

9

‘O have ye any lands,’ she said,
‘Or have you any money free,
Or have you any revenues,
To maintain a lady like me?’

10

‘O I have land in fair England,
And I have estates two or three,
And likewise I have revenues,
To maintain a lady like thee.’

11

‘O will you promise, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘And keep your vow faithful to me,
That at the end of seven years
In fair England you'll marry me?

12

‘I'll steal the keys from my father dear,
Tho he keeps them most secretly;
I'll risk my life for to save thine,
And set thee safe upon the sea.’

13

She's stolen the keys from her father,
From under the bed where they lay;
She opened the prison strong
And set Young Bichen at liberty.

14

She's gone to her father's coffer,
Where the gold was red and fair to see;
She filled his pockets with good red gold,
And she set him far upon the sea.

15

‘O mind you well, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘The vows and oaths you made to me;
When you are come to your native land,
O then remember Susan Py!’

16

But when her father he came home
He missd the keys there where they lay;
He went into the prison strong,
But he saw Young Bichen was away.

17

‘Go bring your daughter, madam,’ he says,
‘And bring her here unto me;
Altho I have no more but her,
Tomorrow I'll gar hang her high.’

18

The lady calld on the maiden fair
To come to her most speedily;
‘Go up the country, my child,’ she says,
‘Stay with my brother two years or three.

19

‘I have a brother, he lives in the isles,
He will keep thee most courteously
And stay with him, my child,’ she says,
‘Till thy father's wrath be turnd from thee.’

20

Now will we leave young Susan Py
A while in her own country,
And will return to Young Bichen,
Who is safe arrived in fair England.

21

He had not been in fair England
Above years scarcely three,
Till he has courted another maid,
And so forgot his Susan Py.

481

22

The youth being young and in his prime,
Of Susan Py thought not upon,
But his love was laid on another maid,
And the marriage-day it did draw on.

23

But eer the seven years were run,
Susan Py she thought full long;
She set her foot on good ship-board,
And she has saild for fair England.

24

On every finger she put a ring,
On her mid-finger she put three;
She filld her pockets with good red gold,
And she has sailed oer the sea.

25

She had not been in fair England
A day, a day, but only three,
Till she heard Young Bichen was a bridegroom,
And the morrow to be the wedding-day.

26

‘Since it is so,’ said young Susan,
‘That he has provd so false to me,
I'll hie me to Young Bichen's gates,
And see if he minds Susan Py.’

27

She has gone up thro London town,
Where many a lady she there did spy;
There was not a lady in all London
Young Susan that could outvie.

28

She has calld upon a waiting-man,
A waiting-man who stood near by:
‘Convey me to Young Bichen's gates,
And well rewarded shals thou be.’

29

When she came to Young Bichen's gate
She chapped loudly at the pin,
Till down there came the proud porter;
‘Who's there,’ he says, ‘that would be in?’

30

‘Open the gates, porter,’ she says,
‘Open them to a lady gay,
And tell your master, porter,’ she says,
‘To speak a word or two with me.’

31

The porter he has opend the gates;
His eyes were dazzled to see
A lady dressd in gold and jewels;
No page nor waiting-man had she.

32

‘O pardon me, madam,’ he cried,
‘This day it is his wedding-day;
He's up the stairs with his lovely bride,
And a sight of him you cannot see.’

33

She put her hand in her pocket,
And therefrom took out guineas three,
And gave to him, saying, Please, kind sir,
Bring down your master straight to me.

34

The porter up again has gone,
And he fell low down on his knee,
Saying, Master, you will please come down
To a lady who wants you to see.

35

A lady gay stands at your gates,
The like of her I neer did see;
She has more gold above her eye
Nor would buy a baron's land to me.

36

Out then spake the bride's mother,
I'm sure an angry woman was she:
‘You're impudent and insolent,
For ye might excepted the bride and me.’

37

‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye proud woman,
I'm sure sae loud as I hear you lie;
She has more gold on her body
Than would buy the lands, the bride, and thee!’

38

‘Go down, go down, porter,’ he says,
‘And tell the lady gay from me
That I'm up-stairs wi my lovely bride,
And a sight of her I cannot see.’

39

The porter he goes down again,
The lady waited patiently:
‘My master's with his lovely bride,
And he'll not win down my dame to see.’

40

From off her finger she's taen a ring;
‘Give that your master,’ she says, ‘from me,
And tell him now, young man,’ she says,
‘To send down a cup of wine to me.’

41

‘Here's a ring for you, master,’ he says,
‘On her mid-finger she has three,
And you are desird, my lord,’ he says,
‘To send down a cup of wine with me.’

42

He hit the table with his foot,
He kepd it with his right knee:
‘I'll wed my life and all my land
That is Susan Py, come o'er the sea!’

43

He has gone unto the stair-head,
A step he took but barely three;
He opend the gates most speedily,
And Susan Py he there could see.

44

‘Is this the way, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘Is this the way you've guided me?
I relieved you from prison strong,
And ill have you rewarded me.

45

‘O mind ye, Young Bichen,’ she says,
‘The vows and oaths that ye made to me,
When ye lay bound in prison strong,
In a deep dungeon of misery?’

46

He took her by the milk-white hand,
And led her into the palace fine;
There was not a lady in all the palace
But Susan Py did all outshine.

47

The day concluded with joy and mirth,
On every side there might you see;
There was great joy in all England
For the wedding-day of Susan Py.

University of Virginia Library

II. Part II.

29 THE BOY AND THE MANTLE

THE BOY AND THE MANTLE

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30 KING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL

KING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL

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THE BOY AND THE MANTLE

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KING ARTHUR AND KING CORNWALL

31
THE MARRIAGE OF SIR GAWAIN