University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
The English and Scottish Popular Ballads

Edited by Francis James Child.

collapse sectionI. 
expand section1. 
expand section2. 
expand section3. 
expand section4. 
expand section5. 
expand section6. 
expand section7. 
expand section8. 
expand section9. 
collapse section10. 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
expand section11. 
expand section12. 
expand section13. 
expand section14. 
expand section15. 
expand section16. 
expand section17. 
expand section18. 
expand section19. 
expand section20. 
expand section21. 
expand section22. 
expand section23. 
expand section24. 
expand section25. 
expand section26. 
expand section27. 
expand section28. 
expand sectionII. 
expand sectionIII. 
expand sectionIV. 
expand sectionV. 
expand sectionVI. 
expand sectionVII. 
expand sectionVIII. 
expand sectionIX. 

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.’